Poeming after a long absence: "What she might as well have said to us."

I ponder. I call myself an over-thinker. If my body was half as active as my brain I'd be thin.

With most of the credit going to one of my favorite paid friends, my therapist, I've been able to disentangle some of the twisted and intertwined beliefs of childhood from what is true. It's good to know an old dog can still learn a new trick or two!

One of the biggest pieces of chain to be disentangled has been my core belief of myself as a disappointing, useless person. As a child I lacked the ability (and the paid friend) to not take on my mother's view of me as my own. I've struggled for years with feelings of self-hate and the fear of stepping out into the unknown. I mean, what if I screw up---AGAIN?

Part of taking things personally was that, well, they were happening to me personally. The words were said, the actions were taken, my heart was skewered by the one person I believed should love me without condition. But I was wrong, she was broken, she had made choices and so had my father, and the outcome of that was three pretty dysfunctional children. Two of them at least, my sister and me, carried deep-seated feelings of self-loathing. Oddly that feeling makes it hard to trust yourself or move forward in life. And occasionally that raw part of my brain is touched, reminding me of some of the things I've struggled to learn to leave behind as I move into the New! Improved! With Less Damage! part of my life.

Here's one, inspired by the prompt at Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides from July 17.


WHAT SHE COULD JUST AS WELL HAVE SAID TO ME.


my bones are old and getting older

my heart is ice and getting colder

my coming death, it makes me bolder

to say what I want to you.


I once had hope when you were born

but from the womb when you were torn

became your own to not adorn

me as an accessory


 the dream I had you did not fit

you would not mold yourself to it

and so I call you “disappointment”

and block your face from view


I once had thought to touch the sky

and backs were burdened so that i

could climb them all to the highest high

but success eluded me


my bones are old and getting older

my heart is ice and getting colder

and in the weakness of your shoulder

again you have failed me.


jle 2013


Skimmer's Recap: Moms, Dads, you hold some mighty power to shape the way your child views himself as a success or a failure. Use your powers for good!

Isn’t he lovely?

Who knew, when that bouncing baby boy came to us before Christmas in 1988, he’d be with us 23 years later?

When we began as foster parents back then, we had no thoughts of keeping any children. But what do you do when 3 years later the child you've been loving and feeding is now free for adoption, and you can't imagine someone else coming to collect him and his things and driving away? Keep him, of course.

He has the sweetest most compassionate heart. He knows every movie ever made in the past 20 years, and every video game sold. I can't even imagine my life without him.

It just had to be said. (Especially since I took this really great photo of him after a wedding.)

i'm a winner. Yep, me.

Recently i received this award from encouraging blogfriend Connie, over at My Thoughts and Creations. By the time i put the picture on here the print got too small and blurry to read. But she says "This award is called the nobelpris and it has to do with being a nice Mom to children, animals, anyone." And Connie wouldn't lie to me, right Connie?

Anyway, i've always hoped to be a nice Mom, though i apologize often for all the mom-things i didn't know how to do when they were smaller. And i have the unfortunate leaning toward mothering my friends. (Sorry, grown-up friends! It's all well intended! My nurturing gene is over-developed.)

i do have a soft spot for animals, and have recently aided in the capture of two little dogs who went astray, and in the returning them to their worried families--in the past 3 weeks. In fact, if i'd known how much chasing i would do yesterday, i wouldn't have gone to the gym first.

Thanks Connie!

;-)

More of my gorgeous little grands.

For this beautiful Bay Area Easter day, i thought i'd post some pictures of the grandkids from this side of the pond. They belong to our oldest daughter, Candie.

Trevor is nearly 16! i can barely believe it--i am DEFinitely not old enough to have a 15 year old grandson...

Haley, 10, loves fashion and posing for photos. She's the resident entertainer.

Cassidy, age 8, is their thinker, and loves math! Definitely got that from her dad's side of the family.

And here are the lovely grandgirls with their grandpa Dean. We love hanging out with them all!

i can take it from a 3 year old...

More in the vein of "the things people say."

Standing in the store checkout, a cute little girl was seated in the cart behind me. She was playing with a cute squeaky duck given to her by her mother/grandmother pushing the cart. She was thrilled to share this noisy joy and kept squeaking and squeaking the duck. i'm not one to ignore little kids in a store, somehow i always need to say hi or play peek-a-boo from behind a cereal box with the littlest ones. This little cutie would squeak her toy, then look at me and laugh. i had said hi, and now was saying, "How fun that is!"

She looked at me with her dimpled grin and said, "Crazy lady!" i said, "Funny, that's what my grandkids say!" She of course had to laugh and repeat "Crazy lady!"--over and over. Her mom/grandma whispered something in her ear after the 45th repetition, and the little girl changed to, "Lady. Crazy. Lady. Crazy." until reprimanded to stop.

Pretty silly, pretty funny. Something about me just invites brutal honesty. First my hair, now this.

Apparently not that funny.

i tried to find a cartoon relating to today's subject, but apparently trying to help a teen understand finances and budgets is no laughing matter.

My son, as adorable as he is, as sweet as he can be, is not terribly receptive to the idea that he should not spend all of his paycheck on video games, movies, and fast food restaurants. Not unlike some of the recent discussions about chores, a great deal of heavy sighing accompanies these talks between he and i--and he's not so happy about it either.

We've done run-downs on the costs of keeping a house, and what his share of that would actually be if divided equally between those of us living here.

We've run the numbers on his income and disproportionate (and mostly unnecessary) spending.

We've discussed that a twenty hour a week job does not a fortune make, and yet a fortune does his entertainment take.

We've reviewed the costs, both monetarily and physically, of the work involved in providing things like the groceries and cleaning of and upkeep for a house and home.

All these discussions are part of our desire to help him become a wiser money manager and useful, contributing member of society. Besides, if he never learns to budget his money, how will i ever get that spare room for all my hobbies?

Chores.

Gee, seems like i haven't blogged super regularly these last few days...wonder why?

Shawn and Ellie got to come home Friday afternoon--just 2 short days after the rather long day everyone had on Wednesday! Of course that meant we wanted to have the place all spiffed up for Shawn. i aired out the house since it was a beautiful, bright day. That's where the easy part ended. After that i did laundry, including bedding, and vacuumed and did dishes and straightened up toys and cleaned the bathroom. PHEW! i told my friend Melanie that usually i don't do all those things on the same day, i prefer there to be days or even weeks between chores. (Kidding! Well, a little.) But here comes the part i hate about housework--in no time it needs to be done again. *Sigh.*

Fortunately, this particular son-in-law loves to cook! So i haven't really cooked in the few weeks i've been here, which is great since that isn't my favorite chore. i've been blessed to have this one who cooks, another son-in-law who is a real live chef, and my oldest daughter loves to cook. i'm already planning my old age and how i will rotate months between children who cook. . .

On that note, i was just realizing how all three of my daughters are good housekeepers. That's a gift i never received. My mother was a good housekeeper, my sister and brother as well. Maybe it's because i was the baby that i didn't follow in their footsteps, who knows, but it didn't kick in as an adult, either. My kids weren't particularly clean as children, and we found the occasional petrified peanut butter sandwich behind the bed. But as adults, they are inspirational in their cleaning abilities!

Candie, the oldest, can't stand to have more in the house than fits. This means she's constantly going through things and rearranging and getting rid of. Shawn, mom of the new Ellie girl, has an amazingly neat home. Unfortunately, for those of us trying to keep up in her recuperation, she achieves this by doing dishes twelve times a day and picking up toys constantly and doing laundry pretty much nonstop. Cori, youngest of the three, is married to a man who cleans! cooks AND cleans. How cool is that? She is still a neat person herself, too.

i'm a little afraid for my son--he arranges his dvds and cds and games with great care. He hangs his towel and washcloth with precision in the bathroom. The neatness ends there. BUT he is still 19, there could be hope for him yet. Possibly i haven't ruined his chances at future tidiness forever.

v. ex-haust-ed

Wow. i am so tired--i was going to find a cute little picture of a sleeping puppy to put at the top of this post, or maybe a funny little cartoon picture of a really tired grandma. But frankly, i'm just too tired.

We spent the day in town after dropping Elias at school (in his cute little gray man-trousers.) Shawn had her pre-op appointment this morning in preparation for the cesarean next Wednesday, so we did that and errands until it was time to pick Elias up from school. She's having a much tougher time at 6 days till Birth Day as far as walking/standing/anything requiring energy. So we planned to shop a little, sit in a cafe a little, shop a little, sit in a cafe a little till we were done.

i'm not carrying what looks like an overinflated basketball on the front of me, but i was grateful for the cafe breaks. Euan is the easiest little shopping pal for a 2 year old, reminding me of daughter Corinne in her toddlerhood--she would happily cruise along in her stroller, playing with her little toys, dreamily in her own world, taking the occasional nap as needed, the sort of thing that lulls you into a false sense of parenting ease. (Had my 4th been a first child he probably would have been an only child. i love him beyond dearly, but he was the Energizer Bunny on speed.) Anyway, even with Euan being a happy little guy, a 2 year old is a person with needs: food, snacks, steering, leg-stretching, etc.

It didn't seem like such a big deal in the planning stage, but several shops and two cafes later, i was incredibly aware of why God makes it so that 50ish year old women do not as a rule have the babies. That is a job for the young.

Cheeky Monkey ;-)

Here in England, they use the phrase "cheeky monkey" for children, and today i had a great example of why--

i've been saying to Elias, age 4, "how many times should grandma have to ask you?" --to obey, to stop, etc.--the assumed answer being "Just one," reinforced by my one raised finger.

Today he was sticking stickers on my, um "lady bumps." i asked him to stop a few times, then said, "Elias, how many times should grandma have to ask you?" He did a sly little grin up into my face and answered innocently, "two?"

Cheeky monkey! i've gotta admire his style, though. ;-)