The truth of the matter

I am so frustrated. Discouraged in some endeavor or purpose. Yup,that fits.

I'm not the best pastor's wife on the planet. I am easily distracted. I have a temper... not so bad now, but still present. I housework. I like to cook, but we have so little in our pantry that I rarely can cook anything other than the simplest meals. I don't bake. I love to decorate my home, but, again, there is a lack of funds. I'm not complaining; I am truly happy with how things are. I am just very different from the stereotype.

I am blown away sometimes by the things that people are willing to complain about. Including myself. My relationship with my parents has always been less than ideal. However, my dad is in the hospital right now and the doctor's can't figure out where the infection is. That matters. My daughter went to Mexico this past summer to build a house and has not complained about anything brand name or what she doesn't have. That matters.

This may not be making any coherent sense. There are so many things going on in my life right now. They clutter up my vision. I have to wade through them just to figure out what is actually important. I like it when things seem clear cut and I don't have any questions. I have a lot of questions right now. Why would someone that does not believe as my church does choose to attend it and cause problems? Why would people depend solely on my husband for their spiritual nourishment? Aren't they old enough to feed themselves? As I am imperfect, so is my husband. We can't do all that people expect. I don't feel a sense of helplessness or futility, I just ignore this part of my life. However, it gets wearing over time. I will never be a paragon of virtue and mercy.

I'm going to include something that is making this all come together for me. It is a song.

"God with us" Mercy Me

"Who are we that You would be mindful of us?
What do You see that's worth looking our way
We are free in ways that we never should be
Sweet release from the grip of these chains

Like hinges straining from the weight
My heart no longer can keep from singing

All that is within me cries
For You alone be glorified
Emmanuel, God with us
My heart sings a brand new song
The debt is paid, these chains are gone
Emmanuel, God with us

Lord You know our hearts don't deserve Your glory
Still You show a love we cannot afford

Such a tiny offering compared to Calvary
Nevertheless we lay it at Your feet"

This is what's important: my faith, the love I have for the addicted and the homeless, my husband, children, and family, my church- just as they are, my friends across this country. That is what is important... not if I can keep a perfect house or bake great cookies and other tasty treats. I will use the heart that God gave me to love others regardless of what they believe or how they treat me. I love seeing people's eyes light up simply because they were afforded some dignity and value. I think that I will keep on doing what I do. The truth of the matter is that these things are the only things that matter... for me anyway.

Mean people...

Alright, you all know the word that comes next. That is exactly the way that I feel right now. I had something happen this weekend that was surprising to me. I asked someone to be a little nicer to me and they, shockingly enough, became even ruder! Who would have thought it was possible.

Okay, since I am repeatedly guilty of over analyzing things, I will analyze this. I was probably pretty y to think that anything that I had to say would have mattered to this equally y, add belligerent as well, young man. I cannot expect an 18 year old gentleman to have the maturity to accept any kind of course correction. They are bent on doing what they want. (I know a good many teenagers with excellent heads on their shoulders. This is just a rebellious teenager that has not grown out of it, yet.)

Since it is also part of my makeup to try to understand why people do what they do, I also need to look at this young man's life. He came from parent's that couldn't or wouldn't take care of him and has been raised by his grandparents. As far as grandparents go, they are really young. I would say that more than likely he is the oldest child of teen parents. He's had some issues with alcohol. I'm not going to assume . I wouldn't even begin to judge because I was pretty wild when I was young. I was also pretty mouthy with it. Oh man... he reminds me of me. To be entirely truthful, my parents used to ask me if I had been drinking and I would tell them what kind and what else I had been doing. I thank God that I don't drink anymore. It made me a jerk. Maybe that's his problem, too, but I think that is a little simplified for the circumstances.

I just wonder how it would feel to be rejected by both of your parents, or removed from their home, only to be placed somewhere else where you might never be sure that they value you. I could imagine that even if you were a strong young person, you might suffer from a little self doubt at the very least. Well, I don't want to try to dig any deeper into his mental playground. It may not even be as deep as any of that... he just might be a jerk.

I will let this go. I just wanted to vent for a short period of time. I'm okay now. Thanks for reading, whoever you are!

The winner is...

Hopefully I have already established that I love to use my imagination. I'm pretty sure that I have expressed how I dwell in a great little twilight land between fantasy and reality. I know what reality is at all times, I just like to write the endings differently in my head.

That being said, I keep thinking back to the Saturday Night Live skits that were about Sean Connery. "I'll take the rapist for $200" "That's Therapist." "You're mother's a whore, Trebeck". Now this really does have to do with something.

About a year ago, I had a woman that was positively evil to my family. She not only slandered my husband and me, she slandered my children. I can deal with people being ugly about me, but so do not mess with my children. I don't even understand why these people are the way that they are. Come to find out that she mocked quite a few things about us. I'd like to go into her dirty laundry, but then I'd be the same. Trust me, I am nothing like her.

The fact is that I thought I had let it go. I truly believe that I had. I think what happened is that I picked it back up when I heard that she had done more than previously thought. I still want to drive up to Sacramento, or whatever ever city she lives in, and her. I have enough rage, but I don't think that I am capable of that anymore. It has been so long since I have done anything remotely violent. I will trust that God, Karma, wahtever you believe in will even things out.

I still want to tell her that her mother's a whore. And I would like to do it with that fabulous Scottish accent.

The cool thing is that people that are ugly inside eventually get discovered outside. You just can't go through life living that way. (Unless you have a potload of money, but I don't want to even go there) People end up getting disgusted with your behavior and will stop hanging out with you. Nowadays, that seems to come sooner rather than later. People are less tolerant of others' deplorable behavior. Here is the cool thing: I don't want to see what becomes of her. If she fails miserably... I don't want to know. If she succeeds, I will be happy for her. In every other area of my life I am content. I have a husband that loves me, children that are respectful and polite without a whole lot of effort, and a unique job. What more could anyone need? On the other hand, I regularly recall this woman being miserable and bitter about many things in her life. I think that is retribution enough for me.

Later!!!

Watching the movie

I have an incredibly vivid imagination. I am also blessed with knowing the difference between that same imagination and reality. But oh how I wish that my imagination were the truth at times.

I see the husband out of the picture sometimes. Not hurt or anything, just not there. I hear that stupid song, "Chasing Cars" and I am running to some guy. I'm a romantic realist. I know that this man that I run to isn't perfect. Maybe he has ears that stick out a little, maybe he's slightly obsessive compulsive like the rest of the world, the main thing is that he's running to me, too. He doesn't put form before function in our relationship... he would rather have things be right than simply look right. Sigh.

The reality of it all is that I have it pretty good. My husband is the same at home as he is around everyone else in the world. He is very kind to me and puts up with all of my whacky-weirdness. He says that he would not know what he would do if something were to happen to me. I believe him. I was his first friend ever which is a shock because he is good looking. He is a good father. He is just really good. Period.

But there is always some lame, niggling thought at the back of my head that he is so flipping boring that I am going to scream. I like adventures and adrenaline and he is so mellow. He does not like deep conversation and I love it. The topic doesn't matter to me, I just like connecting with people... all different kinds of people. I love how beautiful everything can be.

Then there's that stupid picture in my head that I can have passion, excitement, scintillating conversation, fun... yeah, right. I think most people suffer from some hollowness. This doesn't depress me, I think that it just is something that, well, is.

Regardless of that picture in my head, I am content. He is such a good man and, honestly, he wasn't made to fill all of my needs. My friends fill some and my family fills still others. I'm alright just as I am. And, truth be told, my husband adores me. I think that I needed someone drastically different from me to balance me out. We are extreme people.... extreme opposites. We still have people that do not understand why we are together and we've been together for quite some time. We make a good team. I can live with a lot of things as long as we value each other and work well together.

So screw my imagination. There really isn't anything better than what I have... for me anyway.

Friends

I have a ton of great friends. I have friends that are around my own age and circumstance, but most are older or younger. I have friends that are guys and friends that are girls. And, again, I have a ton of them. Seriously, I have so many that I don't get to talk to them all any given month.

The problem here is the one that got away. I love having friends. I love nurturing the friendship and helping it grow. I love knowing people that are not like me. I love celebrating all of the differences. However, I had one friend that was so similar that it was frightening. He was almost a male me. (Shiver)

We really enjoyed each other's company. We could always find something to talk about. It was comfortable. It was fun. It was platonic. (Good thing, too. I'm married) Some weirdness went down that neither one of us caused and things have been awkward ever since. I'm wondering if I missed a memo. Nah.

I think that there were several levels of error. First, that whole platonic thing. I think that it will always be dangerous to be close friends with someone of the opposite sex (if that is how you swing) that you would be attracted to if you were single... or at least allow yourself to be attracted to. I know that there was something that both of us were avoiding for a little while there. That could have been error number one.

Error number two was the fact that both of us felt betrayed by a situation. I think at one point we were both burnt by the other not standing up for us. Truth is if I had stood up for him I would have lost my job. I don't think that lessens the amount of hurt when you explain that to a friend. Gee, my job was worth more than you because I have a family that I contribute to. A single person has harder time understanding this if they have never had to provide for someone else. If the shoe were on the other foot, I think that it would have hurt me, too.

Error number three was the boredom factor. Instead of being the good looking friend that encouraged him and built him up I became little Betty homemaker that was such a good little wife and soooo off limits. I was no longer fun. My marriage is important and I am not a fan of failure. No man is important enough to throw away my marriage... even when it does stink. And over the years, it will occasionally stink.

Error number four was the fact that I still wanted to be friends with him. Not letting it go was probably a big factor in this turning sour. I wanted to salvage something, but there really wasn't anything of value to save. On either side. The things that we had in common were fleeting and superficial. No. The whole thing was a lot of fun and served a purpose for me... and I'm not about to share that. I hope that he feels the same way. I still think that he is a great guy and I am hoping that he finds a great girl.

So I really am content with the friends that I have. I have quite a few that are just as adventurous as I am. I have new travel buddies. I have more friends that have moved so I have more states represented in my long distance pals. I am so social that my husband just shakes his head and wonders how I manage it all and everything else that I do. The answer is simple; people are important to me.

If anything bad can happen...

It will. I don't know, I see myself as a positive person most of the time, but lately I feel like I have been a part of one super-long twilight zone episode. Around every corner is some weird twist in the plot. In ten minutes another character will go berserk. At this point the only thing I really want to say is, "Calgon, take me away".



I know that there isn't a full moon or anything. I can't explain how whacked out everything is right now. I truly dislike my job. Wait, that may not be accurate... I do not think that I am any good at my job. I wasn't asked if I wanted to change; I was moved. Honestly, I think that I stink at it. Badly. I love dealing with the people and that part I will always be okay, but I am the crappiest teacher on the planet. I feel that I am doing everyone a disservice by being in the classroom. I can't tell you how I do a math problem other than I do it and it works. I can't always explain how I did it. Some of this stuff comes easily to me. That does not mean that I can teach someone else how to do the same. Much respect to all teachers out there... I never imagined that you had it easy, but this is wild.



My parents... well no shock that I am no longer welcome in their home. Must have been that whole none-of-your-children-want-to-be-around-you-because-you're-both-control-freaks-and -I-don't-think-that-it's-just-your-children-that-need-to-change thing. I'm hearing a reminder in my head... honesty without love equals brutality? Oops. I'm sorry that it hurt them, but unfortunately it is true.



My husband... that has been weird. He completely freaked out on me when we were discussing our youngest child's birthday party. I suggested Build-a-bear and he asked me to find out how much it cost. I did and told him. Then he starts this male PMS thing and tells me that I only picked that party because it is all about me. WHAT??? Granted, I Chuck E Cheese, but I would suck it up if that was where we wanted to go. However, the only people coming to this party are my husband and children. We can build a stupid bear with all of the kids and go home and have pizza. It doesn't have to be some huge deal. We decided to do it this way since my parents will not be attending. What happened next was my husband started jumping my case over a lot of stupid things and then tells me that everything that is wrong in our marriage is my fault. A) Bite me, B) Bite me again, C) Put the pipe down, and D) just stop.



My kids... ah my beloved children. They have it so much better than they know, but in are stupid consumer driven world they think that they had it rough. I am seriously entertaining the idea of throwing out the TV. We could play more outside. My husband and i can actually keep up with the yard while they play in our little court. It could be very Norman Rockwell-ish. Right now it is some Orwellian nightmare... some are more equal than others.



So I'm just settling in to ride it all out. My husband already came and apologized and I understand. He has a ton of pressure on him lately. He knows, however, that I don't like being the recipient of that kind of crud. I give it six months to a year and it will happen again. I think by then I will be prepared for it again. I'm just hoping that it calms down sooner rather than later. This is getting old.



In the meantime, I still have a lot to be thankful for. I have two brothers that I love. I have a husband that encourages me to be my best... most of the time. I have four healthy and most of the time happy children. I have friends that would go to the wall for me and have. I think that I'll focus on this stuff instead. That should make riding out the rest easier.

Another Battle

I was reading Kevin Leman's Birth order book the other day and I fit the description of the youngest child to a T. It said something about how we crave attention and then feel a little messed up when no one takes us seriously. Too true.

I had an experience like that today. My mom and I went together to get my four year old son a hair cut. Normally this is something that she requests to do for me. I let her; it's a really small thing and she enjoys it. Today I was tagging along. My son has always hated the sound of the clippers and kind of freaks out. My mom normally counters this with a bag of peanut m&ms that he gets to hold until it's done. After it is over he gets to eat them. I would call it a good trade.

Today, however, my son apparently freaked out more than normal. Scrunching up his shoulders, he made it almost impossible to get his hair cut. My mother proceeds to tell me how he never does this when she's alone with him. She then tells my son in a loud voice that she is going to take him in the back and spank him if he doesn't behave. Okay, I want him to sit still as much as anyone else, but threatening him with bodily harm is not necessarily the way that I would have handled it. The hairstylist didn't like it much either because she told my mom in a very polite voice "no".

I pulled my mom aside and very quietly asked her to lower her voice, please. I also handled the situation. I very calmly walked over to the reception area and asked for a sucker. I then went over to my son and unceremoniously popped it in his mouth. He sat still.

At the end of the cut, he started squirming again. The hairstylist brought out the small clippers, which still freak him out, and wanted him to lean forward so that she could clean up the back. Well my son is ducking down again so my mom resumes threatening him. I don't mind a spanking when it is earned, but I don't think that it is the best way to conquer fear. I told my son what we were planning on doing when he gets done. He stopped wiggling.

On our way back to my parent's house, I told my mom that when I am present I needed to be allowed to be the parent. I am not inept; I have been doing the mom thing for thirteen years. My kids are pretty cool. They are not perfect. My mom reiterated how he would never do this to her if she had been alone with him. She told me to shut up and that she can say whatever she wants to my son. Okay.

A little bit more background: My oldest brother would not talk to my parents for over six years and has not seen them for nine. My middle brother, who had to live with them for awhile after a particularly nasty divorce, just moved out in spite of the fact that he is seriously strapped for cash. They told him that he could no longer be on the computer in their home. He only spent about ten hours a week on the computer! Considering that he is shy and retiring, the fact that he would communicate with anyone using any medium at all is a miracle. I am now ready to cut the cord.

We are a boiling cauldron of dysfunction in our family. We all fight dirty. I hate it. It tears me up when these things happen. Things went further downhill when my mother told me that she didn't care about my thoughts on this issue. At that point, I thought that it would be best if we just headed home. However, the way that my family operates, my parents thought that it would be a really good idea to mock me. "And the runner is off again". Arrgghh.

It sucks that I can't even establish boundaries that work for me and my family. I would like nothing better than to do what my oldest brother did: He moved to the opposite coast. Sometimes he says that might still be too close. He has encouraged me to let them know that while he respects their position, that some things have to be set in stone. He pointed out that my husband and I are the only ones to decide the sort of discipline that is allowed. Considering that my parents have both been violent with us, I do not trust them to be able to objectively determine that themselves. My brother told me that I need to get over this need of mine to have them approve of me and my life. I agree. Now if I only knew how!

You see, I don't need them to agree with me about how I do things. I would just really like for them to acknowledge that I have the right to decide to do things my own way. Just because it may not match their method does not make it wrong. There are so many different ways to parent; some good, some not so good. I am doing the best that I can. I get compliments on my children and how respectful and polite they are. My husband and I did that.

We did it differently than our parents did, although his parents are pretty cool. We did things that were geared to each child. Enough.

I can't help at this point that these arguments and fights practically kill me. I get so frustrated and angry about not being heard or taken seriously. There is honestly nothing I can do to change how my parents are. I think that I am going to have to do what my brother suggests; limit contact, make contact only on neutral territory, and not accept the things that my parents will hold over my head. (Gifts, babysitting, etc.) If they can't agree, I have to let it, and them, go. It hurts too much. It also hurts that I let go of my self control and say the same type of hurtful stuff to them that they say to me. I am responsible for my own mouth and if I can't be kind, I have to be quiet. Since that is a weak spot for me, I guess that I need to avoid them for awhile.

Wish us all luck!

Battling Pink

As the youngest of three and the only girl, my mom wanted nothing more than to put me in dresses with ribbons in my hair. I wanted nothing more than to tag along after my oldest brother and play football in the street. Soccer was the encouraged sport in our house and I was a wicked left wing. My dad drilled me with my left foot until it was better than my right. He was sure that this would be an advantage when I went onto a competitive team. He was right.

The other side of me was extremely creative. Every Saturday, I kid you not, my dad would wake us up with the strains of "Tequila" on his saxophone... and he was good. We all played at least one instrument and were in band. I think that I had an opportunity to be less of a geek than my brothers because I played flute and piano rather than clarinet which was considered about as dorky as the trombone, or at least that is what my twisted little mind thought. I also think that one of my brothers was a geek because of his whole "D and D" thing. Yeah, that could have been it. I could imitate almost any singer from the time that I was five. When we weren't listening to my dad's favorite music (Oldies) on road trips, I was the entertainment. "Do Miss Hannigan from Annie" or "Do Dolly Parton's Nine to Five". As the youngest child, I was always up for the attention.

But my mother! Here I had all of this wonderful, healthy male contact and my mom wanted to wreck it all with frilly pink dresses. First, let me say that I already have pink in my complexion and I look like garbage in it. She kept trying to force her ideas of what was feminine and appropriate on me. She didn't win. The only time that I would ever willingly put on a dress or skirt was if it was required for a play that I was in or if I wanted to show off my soccer legs.

Other pieces of 'feminine' in my life were hair curlers. Not the soft, spongy ones, but the hard plastic ones. The kind that you used bobby pins to hold in place. Ouch and Yikes! So I went to school every day with these long sausage curls in pony tails. I was blessed the day that I discovered the bob hairstyle and only had to curl it a tad to please her. In fact, I still fall back on that hairstyle today whenever she is pestering me or I am depressed... I'll have to take a deeper look at that.

The funny thing is that today I am what I consider feminine: strong, confident, but still womanly. I still love sports and run an average of about twenty miles a week. I will voluntarily wear a skirt or a dress. Okay, so more often than not the skirts and dresses that I wear are black or brown, but they are present in my wardrobe. The completely ironic thing is that when I started having children, my mom dressed them in the cutest little black dresses. She doesn't buy them pink. I have a child that has hopped on the pink and black bandwagon, but other than that the other two don't wear pink.

I am just so glad that strength is in for femininity. Since that is the case, I'm not doing badly.