My Walking, Talking Hearts

My life, although fulfilling and enjoyable is not all that exciting right now.  We are watching ‘Thomas’ and Percy just slammed into the cars.  My Little One is lying next to me on the couch and seems a bit out of it.  He went to bed much later than usual last night so I am hoping that he takes a nap today.  Naps rule!  There was a time when my life was nothing but excitement and fear. 

The Little One is not a difficult child.  For the most part, he is a real joy; very easy going, mild mannered, calm and happy. Little One was a premie and spent 18 days in the NICU.  He was always a calm, tolerant, smiling child even there.  My heart broke every time I had to leave him in that isolette, in that loud, beeping, active, alarming room.  He was so tiny and so helpless.  We were emotionally drained and exhausted and he would great us with a smile.  The nurses nicknamed him “Smilin’ Sam.”  I think he was only 4 days old when he first smiled at us.   I called him my hero.  His strength and determination and joy were more than I could muster on most days.

He hated the tubes in his nose and at times would figure out a way to pull them out.  There was a time when I was there and watched as the nurses had to put the feeding tube back in his nose, down his throat and into his belly.  Then they had to reattach the cpap and put in another IV.  He was so tiny and the veins so small that they needed to put the IV into a vein in his scalp.  I was sitting there, in physical pain, emotionally drained, and quietly crying, trying not to make any noise.  I just wanted to hold him, but had to wait until they were done.  They asked me if I was ready to take his temperature and weigh his diaper, like I did every day.  I quietly and sadly just shook my head, no.  The nurse looked at me and said.  “C’mon, you can do it.”  So I stood up and fighting the tears and exhaustion, I held the thermometer under his tiny arm, with my other hand on his chest and belly.  I looked at my little guy who just looked so defeated after struggling with getting the tubes back in him and the leads stuck back on his silk-like skin.  He was wide awake and looked at me.  I said “Hey there Angel Face!” and he looked at me and cracked a smile.  I almost lost it, but did not want to ruin the moment.  I continued to talk to him, telling him about how much I loved him and that he would be home with his big brother, daddy and me real soon.  I told him that the monitors and tubes would all go away and it would be up to him to eat, breath, maintain his temperature, and his bilirubin.  I told him that that was a big job, so he had to be patient and the doctors would know when he was ready.  After I weighed his diaper and redressed him, I could hold him and try to feed him.  He was too small to latch on to me, so I gave him a bottle of my milk.  He tried so hard, then just fell asleep in my arms.  My little Angel Face.  

Those days went on forever.  Those 18 days seemed infinitely longer than the 9 weeks previous that I spent on hospitalized bed rest trying to keep him in my belly. The NICU is a surreal and alien place.  It is not a place I want to ever encounter again.  My NICU baby was so much better off than a lot of the beautiful babies in there.  My heart ached for all of them.  Seeing them every day then not seeing them, never asking if they went home or to a different unit or the unthinkable.  The parents and caregivers who we would see scrubbing in before going in, all looked like we did.  Nervous, tired, angry, perplexed, and sad, so deeply, deeply sad.  

NICU or not, words don’t express the feelings I have for my children.  Words are not adequate and they are almost insulting.  My boys are my life. Not in the sense that I don’t have my own life, but in the sense that I gave each of them part of me, which is life.  I sustained them in my body and they take that sustenance with them when they leave my body.  I still feel like that part of them is me. 

When my First Born was little and even now, he has always had an abundance of energy.  We never sat.  He needed constant entertainment.  I have two very different boys.  First Born son was a healthy baby.  But since he was our first born, we treated him like a fragile egg.  We worried over the silliest of things, constantly checking, monitoring, listening and evaluating.  My poor boy is such an independent natured child that, this is probably the reason that as an infant, he screamed every evening from 5pm to 11pm. It might have been his way of saying, “Will you back off!! I AM FINE! Just let me be a baby!”   Now he is an active, high energy, low attention span, artistic and athletic 8 year old.  He likes to play outside, morning, noon and night.  He will be in the driveway and backyard and go from basketball, to hockey, to riding his bike, to baseball, to soccer, to throwing a frisbee, to playing army in his fort, all in about the span of an hour.  He is a riot and a joy and all of the energy I used to have.  

My little premie is still a peanut.  He is 27 lbs. soaking wet and will be 4 years old in May.  He is healthy and happy and makes us laugh.  He adores his older brother and will do anything just to be near him.  He is calm, easygoing, and accommodating.  He likes to play games like Uno Moo and build his Thomas tracks.  He does not like taking chances or being daring.  He takes his time and likes to help cook.  He loves gadgets like his daddy’s iphone, ipod and laptop. He awakes in the middle of the night and ever so quietly climbs into our bed and snuggles in.  He hardly moves when he sleeps and is still so tiny that it is the most comfy feeling in the world.  This will have to stop someday, but I have not started to tackle that yet. Mostly because I don’t want to. He speaks very well and when he looks at you with those big blue eyes, unless your heart has shriveled up, you will say yes to anything he asks.  He has an amazing sense of humor and comedic timing for such a young boy and is such a love.  

Right now I am spending the most time with the Little One since he is not in school yet.  I am really enjoying it.  Don’t get me wrong there are days when I am ready to throw “Thomas the Tank Engine’ out the window and if I hear another Disney Movie theme song I will scream.  But for the most part, I am loving every minute of time with my Little One and he seems to be enjoying it too.  I don’t need excitement.  I don’t need fear or anxiety. I don’t need to be constantly busy or worried.  There are times when some may think me too laid back.  I don’t clean my house like it should be, I don’t (as I have said many times before) stay on top of the laundry.  I don’t run my kids around to different activities.  I am sure this will change and flux as life does, but for now I am perfectly content with snuggling up with my Little One and watching my animated First Born tell me about his day.   

It is such a cliche and a facebook post but,

“Being a mother is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.”- Elizabeth Stone
It is so true.  We can’t prepare for it.  We can’t control it and we can’t even predict it.  It is this love that makes me think that I can do anything in the world.  My boys seem to be the proof of my existence and the proof of power that I possess.  

Roman Catholic Bishops, Contraception and Hypocrisy

I can keep my mouth shut no longer.  Yea, I know, for those of you that know me, that is a funny statement.  First let me say, I hate offending people and I really don’t like pissing people off, especially friends who’s beliefs are different than mine.  With that being said,  if you don’t like what I am saying, click off.  I mean go back to whatever you were doing before reading this blog.  Skip this one.  Forward it on to people who think like you so that they can pray for my lost soul.  

You all should know by now my religious stance. If not read this Let's Start With Something Heavy and Controversial: Roman Catholicism   and this, Back To The Catholic Guilt and even this  More Catholic Frustrations and Daily Life.  Ok we all caught up?  Good.  The most recent Roman Catholic controversy is over the Health and Human Services mandate that states that employers must provide contraception through their healthcare plans.  The Catholic Bishops went ape shit over this; complaining that it is against their beliefs, and to be forced to pay for contraception would be an infringement on their religious freedom.  They and every other right wing conservative jumped on this bandwagon and cried fowl.  So President Obama presented them with a compromise.  The Catholic organizations that have employees will NOT have to pay for contraception.  The insurance companies will be on the hook for those services and offer them for free.  Done.  Sounds reasonable.  The Bishop’s original argument was that it was unfair to make them pay for services they found morally wrong.  OK so now you don’t have to.  Bill Moyers explains it so eloquently here.  http://billmoyers.com/content/bill-moyers-essay-freedom-of-and-from-religion/  

Apparently this was not good enough according to Archbishop Chaput. Don’t even get me started on their “reasoning” behind not wanting to allow birth control.  They are holding it akin to abortion!  Really, conception begins at erection now?  Really? Here is his whole whinny tirade regarding the president’s accommodation to the Church.  

http://catholicphilly.com/2012/02/archbishop-chaput/current-hhs-mandate-is-not-a-real-compromise/    He is basically saying, you gave us what we asked for but not what we really want.  We don’t want contraception to be available to our employees, period, regardless of their beliefs.  Better yet, we don’t think that ANY employer should have to fund ANY service, drug or procedure that they find morally wrong.  What kind of hypocritical can of worms are they opening up?   

So if my husband’s employer decides he does not think that blood transfusions are morally right, because he is a Jehovah’s Witness, are we going to have to pay for our own blood transfusion out of pocket?  If my employer is a devout Christian Scientist am I going to have to pay for all of my healthcare out of pocket? If an employer is a devout worshiper of the Blue Man Group and they believe that everything is fixed with blue paint, will their employees be made to paint themselves blue instead of getting an antibiotic? Are you friggin kidding me?  What the fuck do these celibate, unmarried, MEN know about what my MEDICAL FEMALE NEEDS are?  

I would have gladly invited the entire HHS mandate panel that testified, (here is a visual. Just so you know, they all have penises) to sit in on the pregnancy and birth of my last baby.  Since they did not let me recap.  

I suffered from placenta previa and was bleeding profusely therefore forced to bed rest. I spent 9 weeks in the hospital on bed rest fighting to keep the lil guy inside my belly.  After 9 weeks and they could not stop the bleeding they had to deliver my son.  Before they could cut open my belly, they had to put a stint in my femoral artery, (with no numbing or anesthesia) to cut off the blood supply to my uterus so that I would not bleed to death while they were delivering the baby.  This process was more excruciating than they had imagined it to be and I had to be held down by 3 nurses (2 of them were male.) After they did the c-section and my baby was taken directly to the NICU, because he was so small and unable to breath, the surgeon was unable to tie my tubes because of the damage that she needed to repair before closing me up.  My uterus and placenta were fused and she had to dissect the placenta which was completely covering the cervix, from my uterine wall then sew me up as fast as she could.  After she was done, she leaned over the curtain that separated my face from my body and with a sweat stained mask and hat she said, and I quote “Do NOT get pregnant again!  If you do, you or your baby will most likely die.”    So if they were sitting in on that part of my life maybe they would understand the importance of birth control in my future.  But I doubt it.  

I am so fired up by all of this. The Bishops and their cronies go to Washington and they are not only spending money (where do you think they stayed when in DC?  Where did they eat? How did they get there?)  and time, but voracious energy and commitment. They are giving to this NON issue more fervor and more gravity than anything I have seen them do in the past.  They call us cafeteria Catholics.  HA! Where was their righteous indignation and fury when their fellow priests were raping children?  Where were they when groups Justice4pakids.org were and still are trying to lengthen the statute of limitations for victims of childhood sexual abuse.  OH that’s right, they were right there ON THE OPPOSING SIDE.  To make sure that victims were NOT given that justice. 

Where are these Bishops when the poor and hungry are being pushed aside by the the ultra wealthy conservatives who think, they are not MY problem. Hell, they are so close to these right wing conservative rich men who would rather take away my right to birth control than lend a hand to a homeless person. Why aren’t the Bishops up in arms over people who have and don’t bother to give?  Oh and Catholic organizations have been providing health care coverage for viagra and vasectomies.  Why aren’t the most Reverend Bishops putting a stop to that?

OH why oh why do I get so fired up about this?  Am I really able to change anything?  I made the stupid mistake of trying to comment on the Archbishop’s Weekly address that I posted above.  I was respectful yet firm.  In the string of comments, these “Christian Catholics” called me “wrong” “hypocritical” “smug” “annoying” “self-exalting” I was accused of “obtusely refusing to accept the teachings of the Church” and my priorities were brought into question.  Why did I bother to go back there and read all those comments?  Why did I bother to try to restate my points?  I guess I just felt the need to be put down and called names.  

But this is my blog now and I get the final word.  Hey Bishop’s, here is my plea, here is my cry, Get your red capped heads out of your asses and start working towards spiritually leading your congregation!  You are not doctors, scientists, or politicians.  You are not the hand of God.  You were called to be HUMBLE servants of Christ.  You say you believe in God, you say that God created us in His image.  So if we are all created in God’s image and we all have God given brains, let us think for ourselves.  Better yet, let the people who study science and medicine use the brains that God gave them to help us.  Use your brains to help us find peace and spread goodwill and love!  Why am I talking to these idiots?  It is fruitless.  So there it is.  I have more, but I am spent. I don’t want to be angry.  

I have a good life.  I have beautiful children, a wonderful husband, a great family and amazing friends. But my parents brought us up to stand up when you see something wrong, and if you can, do something about it. They told us to defend those that are being hurt or oppressed.  It is what they told me that Jesus did.  My teacher, Sr. Carmela Anne IHM in St. Alice told me that Jesus promoted love, tolerance and stood up to hypocrisy.  Even if you don’t believe in God or Jesus, it is a really good way to live.  I just wish there was a Church out there that got it.  

Facebook Junkie

Facebook..... Ahhh facebook. I dabble in Pintrest which is satisfying to an extent, but facebook is my drug of choice.  I check out what people are doing, saying, thinking, fighting for, fighting against, arguing with.  This is my favorite; reading the facebook fights that people have, usually over religion or politics or Joe Paterno or Whitney Houston.  I relish in watching them fight to a fever pitch only to de-friend each other.  I love seeing the posts about how people have been de-friended.  I am so sure that I have been de-friended, but, honest to God, I really have no idea when it happens!

I have de-friended people, but I am sure it was no big trauma to them, they were usually people who had over 600 friends and did not communicate with me at all. Or, I was friends with them in high school and now they just scare me and I had to stop looking at their posts.  I tend to really like my fb friends.  I know them, have met them in person, or used to know them personally.  Most of them I have come to know better. Some were just casual friends in high school who have become better friends since reconnecting, which makes sense.  I did not make the best choices when I was a teenager, and seeing people for who they really are is something that comes with age.  Being the person you truly are also comes with age.  SO it makes perfect sense to connect with someone more now whom you may have just hung out with at high school parties than some whom you hung out with all the time.  

I love that I have connected with family members.  Cousins and the like who, when we were kids, we used to be together for EVERY holiday, birthday, wedding or funeral.  Then someone stopped talking to someone else, or the families just got too big, or it just became too much effort and it all stopped.  Those connections are special to me.  The other connections are the ones that surprise you.  I became friends with one of my husband’s work buddies and, honest to God, he and his wife are two of the funniest people I have ever met and I look forward to their posts every day.  We have so much in common it is scary.  

I like reading the crazy political posts too.  The crazy right wing politics annoy me just as much as the crazy left wing politics.  If you have seen my other posts, I think you can tell where I stand.  I know many would consider me a liberal, but I have to say that the conspiracy theories on both sides are ri-god-damn-diculous.  I love hearing people go off on one side or the other and then calling my friends and saying “hey did you see, so-and-so, completely blow their top on so-and-so?”  I can’t consider it gossip, if they are putting it all out there like that, right?   

The thing that is the most difficult is I gotta get off this goddamn facebook!  It is great for somethings but it can become a bit much.  I tend to have an OCD personality with certain things and facebook and OCD go together like PB&J.  As a matter of fact the internet itself is an OCDer’s wet dream.  Any and all information that you need on any given subject is at your fingertips.  I have searched for the best prices for everything from plane tickets to vacation rentals to dishwasher detergent.  (See, I like to use Seventh Generation dishwasher detergent, because not only is it environmentally friendly but it makes my dishes cleaner than anything I have ever used.  It is not cheap so I tend to buy it in bulk so I can get it cheaper)  I have also research every childhood milestone, illness and learning technique there is so that I am always prepared.  See what I mean?  I will obsess about something and exhaust myself until I find the answer.  Another drug preference, if you will! 

When you are home all the time like me, facebook can become the only form of social outlet.  Which is very sad and kind of embarrassing.  But hey, it is easier to turn on the lap-top, scratch your ass in your pajamas at 11:17pm and catch up with people, than to get out the door with 2 kids, a dog and a husband and gather with people you may or may not want to deal with.  I mean with facebook you don’t HAVE to.  You can just catch up with the ones you WANT to.  They may be there catching up with you at the same time you or they may not feel like dealing with you right now and they will get back to you when they do!  It is kind of a beautiful thing.  The people I talk to on the phone or in person on a regular basis are my good friends who will be in my life with or without facebook.  (One of them actually is not on facebook at all. I know crazy, right?)  

I do have some facebook crushes.  Not in the romantic sense!  Don’t go crazy here.  I mean, I am straight and my facebook crushes are mostly women.  I mean “crushes” in the vein of facebook friends whom I would love to get closer to, to the point of phone calls or physical get-togethers.  But I don’t want to be a crazy stalker.  If it happens great, if not so be it.  I guess my overall take on facebook is, like anything, it can be used for good or evil. Take everything in moderation.  I know that if I am not communicating with my family because I have to check facebook, that is a real problem.  But if I use it as a social outlet after the hubs and the kids are asleep, why not enjoy? No harm, no foul,  I mean it’s not like I am blogging all the time!  

THE SIMPLE JOYS OF MY BOYS

• sticky syrup kisses
• belly laughs at the Marx Brothers/Three Stooges/Abbott and Costello
• pure excitement when daddy walks in the door
• pure joy over spending time with Nana and PopPop
• when one makes the other laugh
• when one comforts the other
• when they team up to be mischievous
• watching their concentration when painting/drawing/coloring
• seeing their pride in their creations
• bed head
• energy filled runs in no direction whatsoever
• long talks about their day/interest/fears/concerns
• being able to comfort them with a hug or snuggles
• watching them care for/play with the dog/cat
• watching their shared fascination with trains
• sticky peanut butter and jelly kisses
• seeing the little one mimic the bigger one who mimics his father
• seeing old pictures of myself/my husband/family members, that look like them
• watching the affinity they have for certain stuffed animals/toys
• Belly laughs
• secretly watching them play act or pretend play
• watching their excitement when they play with their friends
• seeing them drift off to sleep
• putting them to bed after a long day 
• seeing how content they are to be home after a vacation
• hearing them use new words that I did not even think they knew
• hearing the words they make up
• seeing their passion and investment in Philadelphia sports teams 
• pushing them on a swing
• sliding with them down a slide
• going on an amusement ride with them
• milk mustache kisses
• when I make them laugh
• seeing their joy when they make me laugh
• seeing their joy when it snows
• seeing their joy when they see the ocean
• seeing their joy when they see a bird/airplane/stars/moon/kite
• their excitement over playing with a balloon
• watching them interact with friends 
• their wonder
• their faces on Christmas morning
• their faces when blowing out birthday candles
• hearing them say a prayer
• seeing them have concern for others
• clean smelling, after bath kisses
• unexpected hugs
• when they hold my hand (and I don’t tell them to)

There are many things they do on a regular basis that make me smile, laugh, cry, think and wonder “How did I get so lucky to have these little blessings in my life?”  Please feel free to comment and add your own. I would love to hear them

Almost 40 and I don't give a shit.

As I enter my 40th year of life there are some things that I have come to realize.  First, I don’t give a shit.  And I mean that in the best possible way.  There are so many things that used to bother me that I really could not care less about now.  It has become very freeing.  I really don’t care about what others think of me.  I mean I never want to hurt anyone and I would very much take into consideration if you have a personal gripe or concern. I am open to changing my ways for the greater good.  However, I can’t be hurt by other’s opinions of me.  They are entitled to it and I respect that.  And hey, they may be right!  It is not my call.  But at the end of the day I can put my head on the pillow and fall right to sleep. 

Often times other’s criticisms are more a reflection of them than of who they are judging.  Judging is another thing I can’t be bothered with anymore. Don’t get me wrong, there are times I still find myself judging another. But I am learning that you really don’t know where another person has been in their lives or how they got to the point of being that bat-shit-crazy person standing in front of you. To people that are mean, nasty or disrespectful, I am learning to walk away from with a “Good luck and God Bless.”  I can not let that into my life.  This is an easy process if I don’t know you that well, but when it is someone who I know well or am related to, it takes a special kind of strength that I am still working on.  As far as the “I don’t give a shit” statement made in the first paragraph, this is where I have to learn how to do that with people in my inner sanctum!    

I do believe that I have stopped worrying about things that are out of my control.  I can not control the way others feel.  Period.  I can not control the way others act. Period.   The only control I have is how I react to situations, people and events.  I have the power to respond in a negative way or a positive way.  There are still many times that I do not react the best way possible but I am working on it. I have to start working in my own best interest.  Not in a selfish or greedy way, but in a healthy boundaries sort of way.  When I don’t want to do something that everyone and their mother seems to be telling me to do.  I don’t have to.  If they then want to throw in an “I told ya so,”  so be it.  It is no skin of my back that they have obsessed over MY decision until the outcome arrives.  As a matter of fact, that makes them kinda crazy, not me.  

The constants in my life, my family and very close friends are my hub and my joy. When I allow people into that space I do not take it lightly.  People that are close to me are my ‘safe zone’, that I do not extend to everyone.  In a general sense I like people, and I feel compelled to listen to their stories and share some of mine (obviously!) Sometimes the person and I just “click.” Other times there is no connection, but I no longer feel the obligation to find a connection. I usually walk away from them with a better sense of who I am or what I want in my life.  And that can not be bad thing. There are others who are just plain coo-coo-ka-choo and I will write an entire blog about them later!  

I have learned that being nice to people is really easy and it does not mean sacrificing who I am or what I want. My doing something for someone does not have to directly affect a return to me.  I am learning to do things for others because I WANT to, not because I expect praise, recognition, love or appreciation in return.  When I do things for others with this in mind it is more fulfilling and freeing than I ever imagined.  Because once you have given to another, it is done.  You feel good and you can move on.  You don’t have to wait for the return or even the reaction.  If you do for others with your best intentions and they don’t appreciate it, that is fine.  They don’t HAVE to appreciate it, because you did it out of love and nothing else.   

I guess what I am getting at is those old cliches of “life is too short,”  “carpe diem,” “live life to it’s fullest,” etc. etc.  No one really knows when things will change or end or become different.  I was in a horrible car accident in 2006. My injuries were extensive and life altering. I had initially had a lot of sadness, anger and frustration mostly because my son, who was only 2 at the time, was deprived of his mother as he knew her for at least 6 months.   My husband was also deprived of his wife and had to assist me in everything from getting me in and out of bed to shaving my legs to wiping my ass, literally.  I just wanted my life, as I knew it, back.  I was going along happy with my life and in an instant it was all taken away from me.  I wanted to blame something, someone. I no longer feel that way and am extremely thankful.  Now I can focus on what the accident taught me.  It can all be taken away.  Yes, It can all be taken away too quickly and without warning.  There is no room for drama when you look at it like that.  

I am trying to learn that have to make my own happiness and it is not dictated to me.  Kindness matters and the more you give the more you will get.  Maybe not directly or immediately but it will come.  So these are some of the things I have learned in my 39 years and 6 months on this earth.  Now if I could just figure out how to maintain my laundry.....

Sex and Communication... who needs it....I DO!

I have a wonderful husband whom I adore.  No seriously, he is a friggin riot and makes me laugh every single day.  We really get along pretty good and like spending time together.  I miss him. Oh, don’t get me wrong he lives here with me and does not travel or go anywhere.  He works somewhat normal hours. Some days are better than others but he is usually gone for about 10 hours a day.  When he is here, there is so much going on and a lot to do: dinner, homework, baths, bedtime, etc.  On the weekends, there is always something going on.  We always say we are going to spend time together after the kids go to bed.  But we are in a rut of having to sit in the 3 year old’s bedroom until he falls asleep and then escorting him back into the bed every few hours throughout the night. The 8 year old is jealous of the 3 year old and wants attention too.   When the kids are finally asleep, one of us is usually asleep also.  

My husband gets up really early for work so in the evening he falls out pretty early.  It gets so bad sometimes that we forget to tell each other things that have happened to us throughout the week.  We spend a lot of time catching each other up on our individual lives.  When we do try to have conversations the children are a real pain in the ass.  Their father’s attention is a hot commodity in this household.  They will do anything to be near him, talk to him, play with him, impress him, or just be in his presence.  This makes for difficulties when he and I try to talk.  If he hugs or kisses me in their presence, they laugh, attack us and yell at me to “get off daddy!”  He does enjoy spending time with them and if I am in a "mood," he would RATHER spend time with them.  That works out nicely because I am usually in a “mood” BECAUSE of them.

The hubby and I want to spend some quiet time together having a grown ass conversation without having to censor ourselves. You know the conversation when you have to speak of people in code names, hold back true feelings (i.e. cursing) or completely postponing the the topic.  I can’t tell you how many times the we say to each other.  “Holy shit, remind me to tell you what so and so said/my boss did/what I saw/what Howard Stern was talking about.”   Then we usually forget or just don’t have the energy to talk about it later.  

All you ever hear is how important communication is in a relationship.  Yea, do these people have any suggestions as to how to do this with kids?  I know I have heard, “schedule time together.”  How does that help with the kids always up our ass?  Should we lock them, the dog and the cat in a room and let them fend for themselves so we can communicate?  I am not about to get a babysitter, because I don’t want to GO anywhere.  I don’t want to have to get dressed and spend money that we don’t have just to talk.  

I have not even mentioned sex yet!  I miss sex, we both do!  Whoever said that women can go without it and not have a problem, weren’t doing it right.  It IS a problem.  The hubby and I usually have high aspirations early in the day.  Giving each other looks like, ‘Oh you just wait.’  The hubby will clean up or make dinner (this is foreplay in my book.)  Then by the time the day is over and the kids are finally asleep.  We look at each other and instead of ‘Oh you just wait’ it is more like “Oh, yeah, you...... ((big sigh)) can you just wait?”  I mean sometimes I can rally.  But other times we just smile and say, “Oh well.  Let’s try again tomorrow.”  

It is like exercising.  I love to work out, it makes me feel good, during and after.  It is the motivation to get started that causes problems.   Then the act itself involves a lot of preparation.  First I have to make sure the kids are sound asleep.  I sneak down the hall and close their doors, then we have to close and lock our door.  Then and only then can anything happen and that is somewhat stifled, if you know what I mean.   Remember spontaneous sex?  No, neither do I.  It was long ago and far away.  We keep talking about getting away together for a long weekend.   Even then there is concern. There was a time when hotel sex was hot, now it just kinda skeeves me thinking about who was doing what, when and where in that room.  I am always checking for bed bugs and spraying lysol all over everything.  I know.... I am a little up tight..... There is a REASON for that!!!!  HELP! Anyone else out there struggling with this.... anyone.... anyone..... Bueller?

More Catholic frustrations and daily life.

Ahhhh, the holidays are over, for the most part.  The only thing left is to de-decorate.  I am so tired.  The good eating and exercising I was doing, well, halted.  I was blowing up like a puffer fish and feeling like a slug.  Then the awful, dreaded stomach bug of 2011.  I got it 2 days before 2012 and it feels like I have been sick for a year.  I lost 10 lbs in 3 days and aside from the smell emanating from me, I was hot.  It is a week later and I am just starting to bounce back.  This is the weekend to take down the decorations and get the house back in order. Ha ha.  The house back in order.  What does that mean?  I am not sure.  

The looming news for us locals is the Philadelphia Archdiocese will be announcing the closings of many Catholic schools in the area.  It is sad and distressing.  It will not help anyone if these schools close.  The already struggling inner city public schools will be flooded with more students. The families that have struggled to pay the tuition for their students to get a better education are basically being shunned.  The Church wants all it’s children to get a Catholic education, however it is now limiting that opportunity and making the Catholic family’s lives that much more difficult.  As if a Catholic’s life is not difficult already.  

I have posted on this blog before about my conflicted views, but I really feel for those that have found their way in the Church and who have found peace in it.  It is a distressing time.  I have a good friend and neighbor who will have to wait until 4 pm today to see if her daughters will have to switch schools next year.  She is a devout Catholic and of all people deserves to be able to send her daughters to the Catholic school that she wants.  I feel for her.

I have plenty of suggestions about how the Church can obtain some money without hurting the school students.  

• They can take .5% of the paintings and art that the Church owns and sell it to museums all across the world.  
• They can take the vast and I mean VAST amounts of land (http://www.businessinsider.com/worlds-biggest-landowners-2011-3?op=1 )177 Million Acres) that they own throughout the world and sell some of it. 
• They can stop spending money to lobby in congress fighting legislation that allows insurance companies to pay for birth control.  http://www.salon.com/topic/catholic_bishops/ They are fighting that NON-Catholics be denied birth control!  Why?  
• They could stop paying for lobbyists to fight same sex marriage. (http://www.dailykos.com/story/2011/11/04/1033225/-Catholic-Bishops-Lobby-Congress-Against-Birth-Control,-Gay-Marriage,-and-More) They are fighting against the rights of non-Catholics.  WHY? 
• They could stop paying for lawyers and lobbyists to fight statutes of limitation for child sexual abuse.  (http://catholics4change.com/) 
• They could take some of the priests out of their individual homes and house them together and make them drive to work everyday like the rest of us.  
• They could stop supplying lawyers to defend priests accused of raping children. (That is what public defenders are for.)  

Why am I still so invested in this?  Why do I still get so fired up?  I am still hoping for the Church to change and be held accountable for it’s wrongdoings.  I am still praying for an uncorrupt religion that is simple in its message and kind in it’s teachings.  I am still waiting for the good priests who live in THIS century (there are many out there) to be put into leadership roles so they can help facilitate the changes needed.  I am still waiting for more of the parishioners to stand up for what is right and what they truly believe in their hearts and not just follow the Church blindly.  I am waiting to come home to my Church.  

Back to the life in my house.  We are playing play-doh and Cars 2 is the movie of the day.  My oldest has a major Lego project when he gets home from school. I will continue/restart my exercising.   Tomorrow will be the day that we take down the tree and the nativity set.  We always keep up the decorations until after Little Christmas.  For those of you not familiar it is also called the Feast of the Epiphany.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Christmas) It is a Catholic thing.  

Tis the season of lying... I mean that in a good way!

‘A crazy time of year’, is what people are saying.  Yes, I do agree.  There is more on our plates right now as the Christmas season is upon us.  Not only the basics but the buying of presents, 

the decorating, 

the baking, 

the cooking, 

the perpetration of a lie.  

Oh yes, tis the season of lying.  We even created a brand new lie called 'Elf on the Shelf.'  Or as I like to think of it, ‘just one more thing I have to remember to do before I fall into bed at night.’  

When I do forget, which happens at least once a week, I then have to field the barrage of questions, first thing in the morning. 

“Why didn’t Chris move, Mommy?” (Chris Miss is our elf’s name.)  

“Does that mean that Santa does not know about the bad stuff we did yesterday?”  

“Will Chris tell him tonight, about yesterday or will he just forget about it?”  

The list of questions goes on and on and on, and usually before I've had my cup of coffee.  

So I start off every day of the Christmas season with a lie to my children.  My 8 year old knows, I think,  but he still wants to believe.  He keeps asking us if Santa is real, if there are really elves, if we have ever seen the real Santa, oh, and the other day he asked how old Santa is.  So we make up stories and try to sound convincing. 

All the while I feel like he is looking at me and thinking, 'what a bunch of bull.'  He is a pretty savvy kid, and I think he just likes to see me and my husband squirm.  It’s his own little form of entertainment.  This is the first year I feel bad about lying to him.  

On the other hand we have a 3 year old who is just starting to get the whole Santa thing.  He is so excited and full of wonder that the lie seems, well, good.  He has no questions about Santa or how he gets in, or how the reindeer fly.  He just knows because we told him.  

At that age all you need is those you love and trust - who shape your world and whom you idolize - lovingly look at you and tell you that on Christmas eve, a fat, white, hairy, man in a red suit, will break into our house and leave toys if you are good.  The 3 year old just hears “toys” and believes.  

When I was growing up and I started the serious questions about Santa, my dad let me in on a secret.  He sat me down and told me that he had some information that not everyone talked about, and he felt I was old enough to know.  

First off, he told me Santa was not that jolly, he was too busy to be jolly.  Nor was his hair and beard all white.  It 
was graying and closely cropped to his face, not all long, because it would just get in his way.  He was not overly fat, either, because he was extremely active.  He did not wear a red suit, but normal clothes that kept him warm in the night air. He was rather short, had an olive complexion and a large nose. (Ironically, that pretty much describes my dad...hmmmmm) He did not live at the North Pole, but he had a home there.  He had homes all over the world and lived wherever he wanted.  He was the most kind and giving man on the face of the earth. Oh, and he was Jewish.  

Yes, my father told me that Santa was Jewish, just like Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus.  He said that Santa liked the image of the jolly fat white haired man because he could get around much easier and live amongst everyone without being noticed.  He also told me that there were no elves but he had many helpers who were just regular people that he employed but they all signed a confidentiality clause and were sworn to secrecy.  

For some reason, all that made complete sense to me.  The only problem I had was trying to convince my friends of this.  They did not believe me.  

It was my father’s way of letting me in on a secret.  The secret that not everything you are told is always the truth, even if many, many people tell the same thing.  

I have not told my 8 year the Jewish Santa story yet, but I think it might be time. He may need to feel like he is “in on it” just to believe for a little longer.  

Lying to our children may just be keeping them young and wondering for a bit longer.  Lying about Santa is now a tradition passed down from generation to generation.  Some people are against it and I can kind of see why.  We do spend our time teaching our children that lying is wrong. I mean, how ironic is it that on the day we celebrate the birth of - who we believe to be - the Son of God, we are breaking a commandment of God’s?  How can we justify it?  I don’t know. 

But I do know I love the wonder in my little ones' eyes as we set up the tree.  

I love the hope and pure excitement that the season brings to them.  

I love how they painstakingly write their Christmas list to Santa and refuse to sit on his lap in the mall.  

I love how happy they are on Christmas morning when they realize that Santa showed up the night before.  

As a general rule lying is wrong, but for those of you who have children and continue to perpetrate this particular lie,  let me say Mazel Tov!  

Gimme a Break

I am not good at getting the little stuff done.  It is a process throughout the day, that leads up to total mind numbness.  I start off good and with good intentions.  My plans are always: clean the house, put stuff away when I am done with it, leave the TV off and play more with my son, get off this godforsaken computer, do more laundry, clean out the family's clothes that no longer fit, and will never fit anyone in the house so I can donate them, make healthy meals, exercise, walk the dog more than once a day, organize, etc. This is all on top of the normal list of get the kids up and ready, go food shopping, pay bills, basic hygiene, etc. My mind starts off fresh and in complete gratitude for what I have and what I am to accomplish each day.  Then it starts.  The whining, complaining and frustration, oh and this is all coming from me.  I lay there in bed and after I think about all that I want to accomplish I instantly start sabotaging my list. I am queen of procrastination.  If there is a deadline, I will get it done right under the wire.  If it is an “open-ended” goal, just assume I will never get it done.  

I started this new workout program.  It is very basic and very attainable.  You just work out once a day and drink a shake once a day.  You are accountable (through facebook) to a group of friends who are doing the same thing.  I always like working out and always, always feel better after I do.  I also enjoy the shake.  It is very good.  But even with the ease and accessibility of this program, most days I am working out and downing a shake at 11pm!  WHY?  Who can tell me why I make the things that can be an enjoyable part of my day into a deadline stressor?  

Being a mom, I go through most days, especially since my kids are young, trying to plan out the next time I will get a break, either to sleep or just sit and stare into space. I spend a lot of time thinking, ‘Should I start that now, because if I do, I will never get it done and the kid’s movie is keeping them quiet right now? Maybe I should just take the opportunity to sit here and stare into space?’  Yes I have done that.  The moment only lasts minutes, but sometimes as many as 15 minutes and I then get snapped out of it by something or someone yelling for me. It is almost an obsession, of looking for opportunities to steal a break.  It is something I have become good at.  I am not proud of this.  I feel like a “break” junky.  If I don’t get a daily break, I get more and more agitated.   The days progress with me getting done about one tenth of my original list. The things I do get done every day seem to be the same, my boys are fed, the kitchen gets cleaned, I play with my 3yr old and read with my 8 yr old, every day.  These are the constants that seem to get done. There are even times that the other things get done!

Some days are better than others but they all seem to end the same way.  With me getting the kids to bed and then I don’t want to DO anything, I don’t want to THINK about anything or TALK about anything. All I want to do is get lost something like “True Blood,” “The Tudors,”  a good book, Ancestry.com or on facebook. Anywhere as long as it does not involve, laundry, cleaning, kids, cooking, folding, straightening or fixing.  The end of the day is my “super break” if you will.  It is an extended length of time to just be. There are times I am so tired that I should just go to sleep, but I stay awake just to have that time to myself.  

I know most of you are reading this thinking, ‘how sad.’  There are so many that seem to have it together, with extremely productive days and they get it all done with a smile.  I am not one of those people.  I don’t think it is what I was made to be.  Don’t get me wrong, I get a lot done, my boys want for nothing, including my time and attention.  My husband is my true partner and best friend.  I can cook like a mo’ fo’ and if you are in a crisis situation, I am your woman to take control and fix everything for you.  As a matter of fact I am good a taking control of most things and had to learn to hold back on that a bit.  So what if I am undisciplined in the minutia?  My house is a mess because my kids, dog, cat and a lot of other people's kids have fun in it.   The clothes are clean, just not put away.  I think we (meaning I) have to stop beating ourselves up for who we are not and start celebrating who we are.  Right?  or is that just a cop out?  My brain hurts, I need a break!

Child Sexual Abuse and the Sandusky Case

It’s an epidemic.  It is a cultural disease that needs to be eradicated.  I am so disgusted and appalled.  I am not only talking of child sexual abuse, but of the rampant coverup and protection of the perpetrators. 

Gerald Sandusky, a former Penn State football coach is currently indicted on 40 counts of sex crimes against young boys, following a three-year investigation.  It is all the news anyone is talking about.  I read the Grand Jury report. You can read it here: http://www.wgal.com/pdf/29737452/detail.html  It is disturbing to say the least.  Some parts I had to quickly skim over,  just to avoid vomiting.  I read it just to see if there were really people who could have known about what happened to these boys and stood by and did nothing.  There were so many people that could have stepped up for these children, that it is unfathomable to me.  

The question I have and many have been asking is; how can a grown man witness a 10 year old boy being raped by another grown man and simply walk away?  It would have taken such little effort, at the least, to pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1.  What stopped him from doing this?  I think that most of us would have done that and more.  I could not imagine seeing a child being brutalized and not do everything in my power to physically protect that child.  The perpetrator was in the most vulnerable position a person can be in.  He was naked.  So you knock him out, and if you can’t do that,  just take his clothes.  Then get the child away from him and wait for the police and ambulance.

This 10 year old little boy, only known as “Victim 2” in the Grand Jury report, has not been seen or heard from since.  No one knows who he is. He did not come forward.  This information about him was obtained while doing the investigation on the 7 other victims.  No one knows who this child was, because no one helped him.  No one cared, no one stopped his abuser and no one ever found out if he was alright.   If he is still alive he is a 19 year old now.   For some reason I can not stop thinking about this anonymous boy.

The man who witnessed this crime was Mike McQueary.  Instead of stopping the rape of this little boy Mr. McQueary left the locker room “distraught”  and called his father.  Upon getting the call, his father told him to come home!  Then they both decided to call Joe Paterno the next day!  WHAT?  Why would they call Joe Paterno?  Where is the rational?  OK so they did not handle this properly, certainly Mr. Paterno would call the police.  No, he called his boss, the Athletic Director. Well there has to be some protocol that he knows about that would tell HIM to call the police. No, they just tried to make it go away, by doing nothing.  I just can’t seem to get it.  These are good men with families, known for their upstanding character and not one of them did the right thing.  They all failed that 10 year old boy.  They then subsequently failed every other child who was raped and/or molested by Sandusky after that incident.  

It makes no sense to me that the reputation of a School or a football program is so sensitive that they could not have exposed Sandusky at the first inkling.   Wouldn’t you want to expel someone like this and have them removed completely from your organization... immediately?  Wouldn’t that hold up your reputation and support your motto, Success with Honor?   Not for nothin’ but Mike McQueary is still at Penn State, he is the the football team’s receivers coach.  

The epidemic of child molestation and rape is rampant.  I am not being melodramatic here.  The current statistics are that one in three girls and one in seven boys will be sexually abused.  (http://www.stopitnow.org/csa_fact_prevalence1) Think about that.  Go to your child’s classroom of 25 children and realize that  about 6 of them are being or will soon be sexually abused.  Then walk down the hall to the next classroom and do the same thing, then walk down to the next classroom.  The magnitude is staggering. It also must be known that for every brave soul who comes forward and reports being sexually abused there are at least 3 that remain silent.  

All of this was brought to light, for me, with the Catholic Church scandal.  I did not want to believe it, nor did I want to even acknowledge the accusations.  But I did wind up reading both Grand Jury reports that were done on the Archdiocese of Philadelphia.   Again the most disturbing aspect of these very similar cases, of men in power abusing young children, is those that let it happen.  The men who witnessed questionable behavior, who were presented with corroborating facts of sexual abuse, who were told by the perpetrators that it would never happen again, chose to do nothing.  How?  Why?  What is holding them back? What are they afraid of?  

I tend to lean toward the theory that our society does not value the lives of women and children.  There are some men who do not view them as a complete person.  So their suffering and needs are beneath the needs of the male perpetrator.  Then I think that some men may still believe that they should not be a snitch.  Some may fear or have some displaced loyalty to those in power, especially those above them.  

I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. I am just a mom, who had to have another talk with her children about being safe, good touch/bad touch and trusting their instincts. Telling them that ‘if something does not seem right, scream, yell and get away from the person who makes you feel uncomfortable. EVEN if you know them and they pretend to be your friend.  Then come and tell me or dad.’   It is scary and sad that there is a prevalence of sexual abuse by men in power.  It just make me question, where will the next scandal come from and how can we stop it?

Feast of All (those crazy) Souls

It is all Souls Day as I write this and I am feeling pensive and a bit solemn.  I look at my children and I see how fast time is going by. I look at my parents and feel the same way.  I look at myself and although I have physically changed, I feel like I have always felt.  The passage of time plays tricks on you.  The passage of people does the same. 

My grandfather, who passed last year, is still as present in my life has he was when he was alive.  I see him in my youngest son.  I have a vivid memory of my grandfather holding my youngest son when he was about 9 months old.  He said “You make sure he knows who his Poppie-Pop was, I want him to know me.”  I really think that my Pop, has made himself known not only to my son, but through my son.   My son will say something, make an expression or show a mannerism that IS my grandfather.  I know many will think this is nuts.  So be it.  

I also have had an ongoing relationship with my great-grandmother who passed in 2001.  She was 96.  We were close when she was alive and I feel her presence at times still. But not as much as I did years ago and when I was pregnant with my first born.  When I was pregnant I would actually smell her face powder, or her apartment and I was instantly comforted. I now have dreams where I talk to her and give her hugs and know that is really her.   A little crazy, maybe, but I don’t have a problem with it.

I do a lot of research on our family tree.  I get on ancestry.com and am lost for hours in my detective hunt of who is who, where they lived and what they did.  These were all my people who have gone before me and paved the way for the life I lead now.  I have discovered ship manifests of countless relatives that came here in search of..... who knows?  I would like to think it was a better life.  One relative came with her baby girl a year after her husband had established a residence and a job; coming here to start a life. They partially raised 4 children until she died in childbirth with the 5th, who also passed.  Was her life better or worse here?  Who is to know, but I am sure many in her village thought she was crazy for leaving. 

Another relative lied to her family telling them she was coming here to bring her brother back.  She had no intention of doing so.  Instead she came here following the love for her soon to be husband.  She left her family and the country she knew for a possibility.  This same woman was also a healer in her South Philadelphia neighborhood known for  “laying of hands.”  She wanted to pass this on to her daughter (my grandmother) but my grandmother thought she was nuts.  I sometimes think I might have been a good healer.  

They all came here almost penniless, they worked, raised their families, persevered and passed it all on to the next generation.  Some did this better than others.  I still feel some of them around me and mine.  It gives me hope and incentive to live up to their ideals and expectations.  So tonight I will toast my ancestors, and pray for their guidance.  You may think I am nuts.  It must run in the family.  

What I did today!

Here is a stream of consciousness, non-punctuated, rambling list of my day, yesterday.  I laughed when I re-read it and hope you will too.  If you are wondering what I am doing today, please read the blog again.  If you wonder what I am doing tomorrow, please read the blog again.

What did I do today?  Watercolored, wiped the same nose about 100 times, wiped the attached butt about 40 times, watched approximately 15 mins of each of the following: Whinnie the Pooh, Tangled, Garbage trucks, Thomas and Whinnie the Pooh and Tangled again.  Made breakfast, fed breakfast, partially cleaned up breakfast, made lunch, fed lunch, partially cleaned up lunch.  Gave medicine, tried to give a nap, gave up and turned Thomas back on. Re-washed a load of laundry that was left in the washer from last night, checked facebook, checked e-mail, checked my calendar, canceled appts and tasks that were overlapping, tried to reschedule said tasks, played trains, lincoln logs, tried to clean up play room while my 3 yr. old sat on my back like a cowboy, laughing and saying giddy-up mommy!  let the dog out, let the dog in, repeating this process about 15 times throughout the day, broke up cat and dog fights, stared at two baskets of laundry that have needed to be folded for 3 days, asked my 3 yr. old to pick up his blocks that he put in the living room so the dog won’t eat them, while he half heartedly picked up a few blocks I asked him to get the red one that went under the couch, he handed me the blue one, I then stopped cleaning up the blocks and started playing a color game with my son, fearing he is color blind, or maybe I just don’t spend enough time teaching colors, then put that in my mental file for a later google, laughed at his explanation as to why red is blue and blue is yellow, called my grandmother, made to feel guilty by said grandmother, called my mother, made to feel inadequate by said mother (no fault of her’s it is all in my crazy head)  called my mother-in-law and well, just hung up confused, thought about how disorganized I am, wondered where that comes from, realized that it was time to get my 8 yr. old from the bus, took the dog for a walk, borrowed peas from a nice neighbor so I could make tuna casserole, made tuna casserole for the hub and I and made turkey burgers and sweet potato fries for the kids, all the while breaking up arguments between aforementioned kids, broke up fights between the dog and cat, fed dog and cat while simultaneously continuing to clean up breakfast and lunch, ate dinner with the boys, talked to hub on the phone who said he would be home late.... again, tried to convince my boys that sweet potato fries were just as good as regular fries, 8 yr. old was still hungry so I made him some left over mac and cheese, cleared the table and started homework with my 8 yr. old while my 3 yr. old ran around the living room with the dog, both riling up each other to the point were I KNEW someone will get hurt, tied to keep the 8 yr. old on track with his homework, while he whined and complained, got the kids jammies on hub came home and all hell breaks loose as the dog, cat, and boys ran to him like he was the second coming of Christ, he was equally as excited to see them and they proceeded to wrestle and jump around like lunatics as each was vying for daddy’s attention and getting jealous of any attention paid to the other,  hub then carried both up the stairs, got their teeth brushed and put them into bed, I then went up and finished the process by reading books with each while the hub almost falls into bed himself, I kiss all three of them and came back downstairs to the dinner mess, the living room and play room looked like a bomb went off, started cleaning up, as I answer a few calls from upstairs, (no not a call from God but from my little gods, demanding my homage and obedience if I want them to sleep), put the food away, took the dog out, wrote this blog, now I am off to bed it is 10:45pm and the house will have to stay this way...... DAMN IT, I left that load of laundry in the washer AGAIN and I never googled color blindness!