False Self/True Self

“Miller believed that as the true self was disowned, the false self was elevated. If others approved, the false self felt validated and the person was temporarily happy. With the false self in charge, all validation came from outside the person. If the false self failed to gain approval the person was devastated.

“This loss of the true self was so traumatic that her patients repressed it. They had only a vague recollection of what was lost, a sense of emptiness and betrayal. They felt vulnerable and directionless- happy when praised and devastated when ignored or criticized. They were like sailboats without centerboards. Their self-worth changed with whatever way the wind blew.” -Mary Pipher, Reviving Ophelia


This resonates with me. There have been so many times in my life where I have felt the devastation of being ignored. Most recently in my marriage. My husband had little time for me, and nearly no affection.

In the first two years this fact drove me to bang my head against a wall in frustration. Searching for his love and approval, I created a public self that I thought would meet his needs. But it didn’t work because he paid no more attention to me when I did do things his way.

I lived for the moments of his attention. And he hated it. He could sense my dependence and need. He felt like I was draining him, trying to force him into the “good husband” box. He did not want to fit someone else’s definition. He wanted to be his own man, so he pulled against me.

After a few years I gave up. His love was unwinnable, so I settled with being civil and keeping our family together. And it worked for a long time. There were even some real fun moments we had together.

I don’t want to put myself thru this ever again. I am too close to the pain right now to be able to describe what happened to me. Like a starving person, I could make no progress. Each day was spent working so hard to be civil, and keep our family functioning.

I feel myself starting to live again. I have real plans. And now I have fun because it’s something I enjoy. I know myself. I no longer feel empty, or betrayed. All I want is to slip this final leash and be completely free.

Love

Yesterday I watched the movie Bend it like Beckham. The combination of British and Indian humor hits me just right. Since my last year in Nigeria was spent with a pair of Sheik teenagers living in our home, the movie is somewhat nostalgic for me.

What shocked me though was the love story. Mind you, I’ve owned this movie for over two years. My kids love it because of all the football. But it contains romantic subplot.

Unlike American movies, for half of the movie you are not sure if they really do like each other. Their first kiss doesn’t occur until after the climax, as the movie is ending. They don’t jump into bed with each other. They are nervous, and don’t always know how to express themselves. I keep on seeing one scene where the male lead pulls her hand to his heart. The emotions are poignant, and so real.

I want that. I want the respect, and concern. I want a man to look at me with adoration, believing that with me at his side he can face any obstacle. I want a man who will see my real value, and acknowledge my weaknesses. I want a man who feels he is my equal. I want a man who knows the truth about himself. I won’t settle for less.

Now somebody tell me how to recognize this man when he comes along, and how to shift out the fakes. Please.

7th birthday

Today is my son’s 7th birthday. I had hoped to have a good picture to put up with this post, but that didn’t work out!

Grandma and Grandpa called this morning to wish him a happy birthday. And they happened to mention the huge box that is his birthday present. After talking with them, he begged me to let him open it. Nope, going to be opened tonight with all the other presents. So he sulked around the house.

I love technology! My parents were literally in the middle of the Kalahari Desert when they called! My mom arranged for her students to take 2-3 week missionary assignments with the aboriginal people of the desert. And they just so happened to have cell phone coverage out there. Here we are, standing in the bathroom with the phone on speaker, and my parents are wishing my son happy birthday from half way across the globe!

Anyway, enough of that! I took the day off work. I went up to the school and had lunch with the kids. My son was all smiles, so happy! He could hardly sit on his bottom to eat his lunch! He doesn’t know I’ll be coming back this afternoon with cookies for his class.

This has been a vacation day well spent, as far as I’m concerned. I’m getting a lot of mileage out of my time off work.

Leading up to this grand occasion, we’ve discussed the kids’ birth stories. My son was born before the doctor could get there, and he loves to hear about that. My daughter was an emergency C-section. She had nothing on her brother’s volume, and sounded more like a mewing kitten then a screaming infant.

Seven years! Wow!

Scared

Today I got in touch with my lawyer. I’ve been calling her since the beginning of February. I almost didn’t know what to say when her voice came on the line. I stuttered, thinking of the message I was about to leave.

I got off the phone totally elated. She said she needed one set of information from me to start pulling the case together for the final decree. I knew exactly where to find the information at home, and promised to get it to her by tomorrow.

And since then my emotions have been on a roller coaster ride. I dream of being free to move on with my life. The grass is greener on the other side, and I want to get there. I’ll be divorced, and all my problems will suddenly melt away. My issues with panic attacks will cease because I will no longer be trapped. Life will be wonderful!

But that’s not what will really happen. In reality, my panic attacks will probably get worse. Change takes a lot of energy. And I’m not sure I’m up for it. I’ve been in this limbo stage of separation for so long, will I know what it means to be divorced? Will my life really suddenly get moving? And what does it mean to get moving. How do I move my life along? Nothing in my home will change. A piece of paper doesn’t change the way I put my kids to bed at night, or the way I do laundry. It won’t suddenly make my kids quit screaming at each other. No, if anything, the divorce will make my panic worse because I do have to go out and face the public now as a truly single woman.

I’m scared to death of dating. I’m scared of bringing a wonderful man into my life and showing him all my failings. I can’t even stand my own little clutter! It drives me bonkers. Keeping up with housework can drive me to panic attacks sometimes. I want a guy to see all my good sides, but I know I have so many failings. How can a wonderful man accept a woman like me? I come with so little.

And I know when I say stuff like that I’m selling my self short. I know I really have a lot to offer. But I’m so scared of making a mistake. I realize now what a big commitment marriage is. I realized that the first time around. But I didn’t get it that you have to choose well. One committed person can’t make a good marriage.

I’m just scared because I can’t see the road in front of me. I’ve been so focused on getting this divorce; I haven’t stopped to think about what life I will lead after I’m divorced. And now I’m going to have to face that. I’m scared to come out of my prison. And yet I know getting this divorce finalized will be the best thing for me.

Nature of people

I like contrasting things. I think they illuminate the traits of each. I had two very contrasting things happen with my children yesterday.

They were playing outside with the neighbor kids. My next-door neighbors are an elderly couple that have their grandchildren stay with them often. The two young children are the same age as mine, and when here, they like to romp around together. They run thru the grass, and draw on the sidewalk.

Yesterday my two were riding their bikes when the neighbor kids came out to play. In childhood glee, they jumped off their bikes without second thought and ran to join their friends.

After a bit a knock came at my door. The elderly woman was standing at my door.

“Your little boy is leaning his bike up against my car,” she declared. She refused to look me in the eye, instead looking at some point over my shoulder. “If he damages it, you’ll be liable for the paint job.”

Hmm . . not much of a threat there, and why are you using a threat with another adult? Don’t you think I understand the issue?

I know how much it would cost to sue some one. I have an appreciation for the degree of difficulty, and time involved in pursuing one. After spending over 18 months just trying to get divorced, I would know how difficult our legal system is.

Our children play happily together, and you come threaten me? Instead of honoring my intelligence, you try to force my hand.

Okay, next incident. I finally made it to the Whole Foods Market. With all the changes we’re making to our diet, I had to see what products were available there.

The store was crowded, which surprised me. Normally I’m slightly phobic of crowds. People are often mean, and territorial. Like my neighbor, they think they have something that needs to be defended. Out in public, in a crowded store, this ideology can become magnified.

My kids on the other hand, love crowds. The random energy of all those people excites them.

As I reached looked thru the fresh cut herbs, I eavesdropped on a woman.

“All those chemicals on your plants shorten your life,” She gestured at the food, “but here I am, almost done with my life, and now I’m doing something good for myself. I don’t have a lot of time, but at least I’m doing it.”

I smiled to myself. I’m not an organic freak. I know she’s got a point, but I can’t afford to spend that much money on food.

I watched a young family shopping. Two kids were in the kiddy cart, beating each other up, the mother had a baby nestled in a sleeping sling, and another child walked along. They kept pushing the two toddlers back into the cart, and no one took any notice of the child-to-child violence ensuing. Normal behavior for kids that age!

By the time I got to the bulk aisle, I had warmed up this place.

“Okay guys, we need something for the nut bowl,” I parked the cart and went over to the bins of mixed nuts. “Let’s try this one.”

We sampled a few until we found one that worked for us. People scooted by us, smiling as we talked to each other. It wasn’t the blithe ignoring that goes on at Wal-Mart, where you try to act like you can’t hear what someone else is saying.

“Can we get some chocolates?” The kids asked, pointing at the vast selection.

“Yes, we can, but they have to be sugar free.”

The kid began looking up and down, poking between other people, asking, is this one sugar free? People answered them, and smiled at their enthusiasm.

At a crowded health food store, my children fare better than with our neighbor of over a year. Why?

I’m sure it has to do with the type of people who shop a health food store. They are naturally self-aware. They are more inclined to accept their own failings, and those of others. And so the undisciplined, enthusiastic actions of a child are much easier to accept.

Harmatan Skies over Texas

Everyone here was wondering why the sky turned orange. Lunch at Arby's I could hear people speculating on the brown and orange light, and the haze enveloping us. I knew exactly what it was. It looked just like Harmatan skies.

Growing up in Nigeria, we lived just south of the Sahara. We had two seasons, Rainy, and Dry. During Rainy season the winds came from the south, off the Atlantic Ocean bringing storms. But come about October, the winds shifted. From the north, across the desert the winds blew. Dust came flying in. Flights were canceled due to visibility problems. And our sky was always golden brown.

So as we sat eating our lunch, I explained to the children what was going on.

"Look at the sky, what color is it?"

"Orange!"

"No, it's Brown!" They began arguing.

"The wind has been blowing alot today hasn't it?"

"Yes it knocked over my bike."

"My paper got blown away."

"Well, guess what, the wind has been blowing up some dirt, into the sky. And now the sky is dirty. There is dirt and dust up there, turning the sky brown."

In simple language I explained how this used to happen in Nigeria, but our visibility would be even worse. From our second story window we judged the severity of the Harmatan by how much we could see across the street. There were times when the wall of the other compound was as far as we could see, about 100 yards.

I wish I had my camera with me yesterday, because by the time we got home, the Harmatan skies had blown away. It made me sad. The golden glow had been so familiar, so nice. A strange weather, very particular to my childhood, and teenage years.

P.S Picture is not mine, but from our local news website. But it gives you a very good idea of what it looked like around here.

Peace I leave with you

I’ve got two images bouncing around in my head. One is of pure joy and peace, and the other is hectic stress.

The stress was when I picked up my kids. Their babysitter works at a drop in day care, and she took my kids with her yesterday. The place was a very busy, child centered environment. Even the carpet was multi colored. I went into sensory overload just being in there for 10 minutes. Kids were running around, screaming and having fun. It felt like pure chaos, even though I could see it wasn’t. In one corner, the movie Cars was playing, kids were playing games on the computer, and other kids were running thru the play area, swinging off things. I felt like it was more than I could keep track of.

And then we have the opposite. This morning at breakfast I had my CD of Classical music playing. Fur Lies and Symphony Pathetique played as we ate our food. My children sat quietly in their places, eating yogurt, and granola bars. My son stared at his applesauce. I smiled, listening to the fast rounds of Fur Lies. My daughter pulled her blanket closer around. My arms still felt warm from snuggling my son. This morning he put his head right up underneath my chin. His soft warm hair nearly put me back to sleep.

Peace. I saw a bumper sticker yesterday. I can’t remember the wording, but it said if you want the world to be at peace, learn to be at peace yourself.

I do want world peace. I want the violence in Nigeria to stop. The conflicts in the Middle East are getting blown out of control, and I want it stop. But I can’t do very much about any of that. But I can have peace in myself. Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you, not as the world gives. Peace is moments of prayer with my children as they beg House Fairy to come with lots of toys for them. Peace is cuddling with the children as we read about the Roman Centurion who understood that Jesus could simply say the word.

I will let the peace begin with myself.

Changes in store

When I stopped by the Health Food store on Saturday, I didn’t expect to change my whole diet, but that’s what happened.

I was talking with the girls who work the vitamin section. I’ve been keeping an eye out for products for my son. His teacher thinks he has ADD, and I think she flunks all together too many students. But it’s too late in the year to switch him. Switching teachers at this late stage would be very traumatic on him. Flunking first grade is a known consequence. A friend that he goes to church with and goes to school with is on his second round thru first grade. Never mind, the friend had the same teacher the first go round.

Okay, point is, at school he is easily distracted, and does not complete his work.

At home he does a great job of getting his home work done, even with his sister running all over the house.

But, he does have moments where he is very distracted, and it takes a lot of work to focus him. He also exhibits what they call hyper kinesis. He has times where he moves in a fast, angry manner. He’ll punch a pillow repeatedly, very fast.

We’ve taken the tests. The teacher’s version said he was dead on ADD. My version showed him on the edge of the bell curve, still within normal, but drifting towards ADD.

There is no way I’m putting him on medicine. I don’t think its right for him. I don’t believe he’s really ADD. I think the situation in this classroom has exacerbated his natural tendency.

So, I’m left with natural treatment options to help him cope. I’ve been using the Bach Floral remedies, and those have helped. But they really aren’t geared towards what he needs.

As I said, I was talking with the girls who work there. They stated that some research has shown that many ADD/ADHD kids have hypoglycemia. This hit home, since I’m insulin resistant. I’m on diabetes medicine. I don’t follow the diabetes diet, but instead I’m vegetarian. Research has shown that vegetarian diet often works well for my condition.

One of them copied off some pages, and the other showed me some homeopathic remedies that work well with ADD. The suggested that I go sugar free, high protein, low carbs with my son for a while.

Once home I curled up with the literature. I read it thru, did some Internet searches. My conclusions are that both my son and I need to be on a high protein, low carb diet. It is quite likely that my high stress level is actually a reaction to fluctuating blood sugar level. Research shows that my son’s ADD tendencies are even more likely to be related to blood sugar since I’m insulin resistance.

Result is I’m now buying a ton of sugar free/wheat free items. He stared at the cereal all thru breakfast and ate none of it. I’m also going to go vitamin crazy on him.

Yesterday I went thru the day with very little stress. I didn’t feel panicky, and was able to deal with the kids’ craziness. I feel a lot better.

I’ll never succeed in knocking all the carbs out of our life. Can’t be done, and I’m not going to beat myself up over it. Sugar is also going to stay in our lives, but in smaller quantities. Instead of cereal for breakfast, I can see we’re going to go more for yogurt. It’s going to be a slow gradual change as I educate myself, and find what is going to work for us.

But meat is back on the menu at my house.

A few of my favorite things

With divorce you have to find yourself again. For years you’ve been part of a partnership, albeit a bad one, but still. Your identity has been fused with someone else’s. Your ideas become those of the couple, not yourself. Fun times in our marriage were drives in the car, a rented movie and popcorn, my husband and I reading books together. They were times when we all had fun, and times when I could relax because I knew the needs of the group were being met.

Now, I have to find out what it is that I like.

I like to take a walk in the brisk spring wind.

I like to browse the essential oils of the local health food store

I love to go swimming and completely wear myself out.

I love skating, and going fast, feeling the wind whip around me.

I like hot baths with lots of different oils added.

I like to curl up with a good book.

I like talking with friends over a nice meal.

I like laughing at a stupid TV show.

I love chasing my kids around the house to tickle them.



Not a complete list by any stretch of the imagination. But it is me. And now, with my day off, I’m going to go out and do a few. Not going to plan the day, just going to go spur of the moment and see what appeals to me.

Wish me luck!

Speeding thru life

I think I’ve gone overboard. I’ve got myself handcuffed to a routine, and I’m working so hard to be happy when really I want to cry that my divorce isn’t done.

When my ex left, I was so happy to be able to organize. It brought me such joy, and a sense of freedom. The house was clean, and I took pride in it. The routines and organization were how I defined myself as different from Bruce.

But now I’m too busy with work and home to have such demanding routines. This morning I unsubscribed from FlyLady. I know the system works, but I feel like I’m so behind. I need to get a handle on what I’m doing. I need to find ways that work and won’t overwhelm me. I’m overwhelmed by FlyLady. I need to step back. My expectations of my home are those of a stay at home mother, not a single working mother. I have let my cleaning routines become a burden. Instead of blessing my family with a clean house, I’m stressing my kids because I’m trying to meet unrealistic expectations. There is no way I can do this all. Got to go back to the drawing board. Got to figure out what I can do, and what I can’t, what’s realistic, and what’s overkill. I’ll calm down and then get back on track.

I’m hiding behind my panic. The anxiety is masking my disappointment with myself. I really want to bawl my eyes out. I feel terrible that I’m not keeping a clean house for my kids. I feel like I’m stealing time from them while I’m cleaning. The kids need my time, and instead they are watching me fold laundry, and cook.

And meanwhile I’m learning which things to turn off. We each have our own rhythm. Certain people zip thru life, and others mosey along at a slow stroll. I’m not sure which I am, but I know the radio isn’t at my speed. The TV is mostly off because it runs too fast, with too much noise and color for me. I feel overloaded by the input. Most of this world goes at such a fast, over indulged speed that I can’t keep up. I run so fast, and I don’t make it. Yesterday everybody was talking about the previews for Gray’s Anatomy. I’ve seen the show twice. I like it, but I don’t make time to watch it. Radio, TV and other things have to go off for me to slow down and take life by the reigns.

Ylang-Ylang

Do you ever have those days where the chaos just spills over, where the situations are more than you can handle? That was today at work. Yesterday the east coast was crippled by a terrible ice storm. My dear CEO’s whose travel I book, do not understand storms and what they do to airplanes. Having worked at the airport, I advised them, book travel for tomorrow afternoon, and go get a hotel room for tonight right now. Then you can come back here to the airport and try to catch a flight today. They didn’t listen to me. Instead my Very Important Persons ran all over the airport trying to catch flights that never left the gate, and had me scrambling to get tickets issued. And then today when flights really were taking off, they couldn’t understand why I couldn’t find a seat for them.

And add into this mess, US Airways doesn’t answer their phone. And the delightful ticket that I needed to issue with their help. Finally the admin threw the towel in and said, well I guess he’s not going to Boston because we can’t get the ticket issued. Never book US Airways.

But that wasn’t what I meant to write about. When I got off work I was a shaking, edgy mess. My doctor calls it generalized anxiety. I call it trouble. It’s the edge of a panic attack, and it’s an awful place to be. You feel like something is about to slip out of your fingers, and it’s your control over your own self. Any little thing could turn you into a screaming mess. That’s what I do when I have a panic attack. I scream, hit things, and just work off the energy.

I left work and stopped by the health food store. Granola was the mission. The ants got into my supply, and were happily enjoying mine. But while I was there, I had to check out the essential oils. Based on memory I smelled ones that have been suggested for Panic, and Anxiety. A few seemed really good.

I put a small amount of Ylang-Ylang on my hand to smell it. The sweet cloying scent hit my brain, and I felt a sob choke my throat.

All the stress was over. Like the crying after a crisis, my body suddenly released. Tears drifted down my cheeks. I clutched my hand to my nose, like my daughters blanket. I held the sob back.

It was over. I had done it. I had saved the day, and I could relax now.

A Day off

I’ve decided I will be taking the weekend off, completely and totally. I need to de-stress, and have some time where there are no demands on me. Both kids are getting shipped off to Daddy’s for the weekend. I’ll get to sleep in, and I won’t have to mediate arguments.

I’m sure I’ll be bored, and going stir crazy by the end, but right now it sounds like magic. I’ll pay for it because the kids will be bouncing off the walls when I get them back. A few days of non-stop videos and lack of discipline has its affect. They will drive their father insane. The girlfriend will make sure he can’t repeat this stunt for a while. They will come home grouchy, screaming at each other.

But at this point I don’t care. I need some me time. Most days I’m on duty from 6am until about 9pm. That’s a 15-hour day, seven days a week. At the most I get a few hours break every other weekend when I can convince them to take my son for a Saturday afternoon.

I don’t like the idea of him sleeping over there. They don’t have enough beds, and they have too many people crammed into a small apartment. I can see that my children go a little stir crazy on 2 hour visits over there. And being trapped in doors watching movies does nothing to eliminate their wiggles.

But I really need the rest. I need the quiet. I need a chance to unwind and be off duty.

Epiphany

This morning I had an epiphany.

In December I went on anti-anxiety medicine. Time just seemed so tight. Running a house with two busy kids, and working, I had no time to do anything. I was running so fast just to keep up.

In January I started going to the massage therapist on a regular basis, and she recommended some herbs, and homeopathic things to work in conjunction with my medicine. I started to feel a lot better. My problems were manageable, and I was getting things worked out.

But about two weeks ago things started crashing in on me. For one thing, the child support check didn’t come in on time. Money was tight. My son got sick with strep throat, and I had to take two days off work. Then my daughter got lice, and I had to sanitize me house. After that, my daughter got strep throat, and the ex took the time off work.

Meanwhile, the house just kept on piling up. Mt. Washmore grew to new altitudes. And the ants invaded my kitchen.

I spent time working on the laundry, all the time staring at the dishes. Any dirty dishes left on the counter meant a new invasion of ants. I tried to do my routines. I tried to clean the kitchen sink, but there seems to be more than I can get done. I couldn’t do it all.

Never mind that my kids have sensed my growing panic, and are responding accordingly. My daughter is more controlling than usual, and my son knows just the things to say that will make her scream.

So this morning, I take some clothes out to the laundry. As I do so I think about my ambivalence towards the house. I want to clean it, and the mess of it is adding to my general displeasure. But every time I try, I feel overwhelmed. I can’t get enough of it done to really get ahead. How did I get and keep the house clean just a few months ago? I know I have to calm down, and accept what I can do. If I can reach a peace about it, moments will present themselves to actually get things taken care of.

And it dawned on me, I feel trapped. That was it! I can’t explain my joy realizing what the emotion was. It has a name. I can treat it!

I dug in, why do I feel trapped? Really it isn’t the house, and I know that. My kids aren’t trapping me, there is something else going on, and I’m allowing it manifest in this way. Where am I truly trapped?

I’m trapped in my divorce. We haven’t moved forward in nearly three months. Though he is no longer in my life, I’m not free to move on and date other people. I’m stuck.

Okay, gotta start calling the lawyer multiple times per day to get this thing moving forward. Then I can shake off this feeling and get my home under control. Meanwhile, I brought the whole homeopathic, essential oil anti-panic medicine cabinet to work with me.

Realization

I think I finally made a break thru with my daughter. She didn’t change, but I changed my approach to dealing with her. I finally remembered something they said in the Love and Logic workshop.

Let me set the scene for you.

We got home from church. The kids did pretty well today with church. They both actually seemed to have something to talk about. Amazing! They paid attention! I was thrilled to pieces.

They got out of the car, and raced for the door to the house. As I walked to the door, I could hear the usual argument beginning. They both want to be the first one in the house. They lean against the door, and push each other.

I had it. I turned around and sat on the curb. Their screams echoed terribly across the cement. My daughter was the one doing most of the screaming, but I could tell that my son kept pushing back.

Finally my little girl ran to find me. She asked if I was coming. I said I would come when they were done arguing. She ran back screaming at her brother. We have to quit arguing, so quit yelling at me and do what I tell you! I laughed. Totally out of sight of them, I actually enjoyed the chaos for a moment.

My daughter’s big beef was my son should apologize. He finally gave in and apologized, and then the two of them were quiet.

Not for long of course. We got in the house, and I told them to change out of church clothes. They ran into their bedroom and began yelling at each other. My son wanted to change clothes in private in the bedroom, and my daughter had not finished changing clothes.

Back and forth they yelled, the noise level going up, their voices getting higher. My son succeeded in pushing his sister out of the room, and he slammed the door.

And that was my breakthrough moment. I went and cuddled my little girl.

“That didn’t work out for you did it?” I asked, holding her close.

Her eyes were bright red, and she wiped her face with her blanket. “No.”

“What do you think would be a solution?”

She gave me a few ideas, and I suggested a few others. Finally we decided that each of them should get two minutes private time in the room to change. She smiled, and yelled thru the door to her brother that she was graciously giving him two minutes. (Never mind that I had been negotiating with the door the whole way.)

I was shocked that she understood her reaction wasn’t getting the result she wanted. I’m selling her short. The kid understands more than I give her credit for. She really does get it.

There is hope! Given choices she can truly make some good decisions. Maybe I will survive being a mother after all!

Passed House Fairy Inspection

For the first time we've passed House Fairy Inspection! Well, only my little girl passed, but still, there is room to celebrate. She got a wonderful letter from House Fairy, and a lizard that she adores!

My son quickly figured out what he did wrong; he left a sweatshirt in the middle of the room. And House Fairy knew it was his. He quickly remedied that problem!

Last night my father stopped by, and he was totally impressed with how clean the kids' room is now. They are doing so good!

Biafran Stamps

While living in Nigeria, my mother discovered a stash of Biafran stamps in a mission office. The Biafran civil war paralyzed Nigeria from 1965-1970. In the end, Biafra was unsuccessful, and was reabsorbed into Nigeria.

We stared at the stamps. In some ways they were totally worthless, and yet so valuable. I wiped away my tears as I gazed fondly at them. With our rainy season humidity, many of them had become fused with their wax paper backing. The hopes and dreams of a region seemed to cry out in these old forlorn stamps. Many of them were slightly torn, discolored. But to me there were a collage of Biafra, a fair tribute to the people who tried, but lost.

The perfumary

Last night I got a shipment of 4 essential oils. I’ve been collecting them over the years, and I finally have a wonderful supply.

I mixed up my first perfume. The base notes are Frankincense and Benzoin. I can’t believe I have frankincense, the real thing! And Benzoin is about one of my favorite! My massage therapist warned me that it was thick and resonant. She didn’t prepare me. The stuff is like sap from a tree. It’s thicker than honey. But what a smell! My middle notes are lavender and chamomile. Those are two very calming scents. Lavender is another woody, heavy smell, and chamomile is sweet. Then my top notes are cypress and bergamot. Cypress is sharp, and refreshing. Bergamot is a citrus, light and airy.

The result is a very heady mix, at once heavy and thick, but with a sharp kick to it. It is a sweet perfume, and I love it. I slathered it on this morning. I massaged it into my back, and my hip that bugs me. I rubbed down my neck where the therapist pointed out I like to hold tension. A half an hour later I felt my back and shoulders suddenly warm up in the most delightful and relaxing manner. As the children lay on the floor, trying to sleep in, I rubbed each of them down. Neither kid was very impressed with the smell, but they certainly enjoyed the attention, and mini-massage on their back. And they both made it up to the breakfast table on time. Hmmmm . . . .

Connaitre ou Savoir

In this age of Internet dating, and online chat rooms, I have this thing against long distance relationships. I’ve seen so many of them fail, and I totally understand the reason they fail. Makes prefect sense to me.

You talk with someone, and both of you say you like camping. You’ve got this in common, right? Well, not totally. Turns out one person likes the hard core, totally natural camping thing. Tents, sleeping bags, and nature hikes. And the other pulls their camper along with the full kitchen, and indoor plumbing.

See the problem?

Only, it’s often times more subtle then this. Our problem is that we use the same words, but have different definitions. Like the example of how do you define camping. How do you define gender, love, and marriage? What are good table manners, and how do you move furniture?

One of the stupid things that was a problem in my marriage was our definitions of cleaning the house. We actually had different definitions. When I clean the front room the first thing I do is put the excess stuff away. Then I throw junk away. I sort thru the accumulated papers, and reorganize the DVD’s in their case. My husband would throw trash away, and get all the stuff off the floor. He would move the piles to a less conspicuous place, and then vacuum the floor. For him a clean room was one with a clean floor. I defined a clean room as one that was clutter free, and organized. Every time he said he was going to clean house, I cringed. It meant he was going to pick up all the clutter and bury it some where else in the house. Later I would have to sort thru a huge mess. But when I said I was going to clean house, he cringed. He knew I could never get the carpet as clean as he wanted. I would vacuum, but I wouldn’t get out the steamer and spend six hours on the floor.

There is a guy at church that I have a running crush on. I’ve known him for 6 ½ years. For most of that period I was married. He hasn’t been out to impress me. He hasn’t put on a show. But over the years I’ve seen by his actions that he is very similar to me. He’s a perfectionist, and kills himself to do it right. I’m the same way. If I can’t do it right, I don’t want to even try. If I don’t have six hours to scrub my fridge, I’m not even going to try. With the help of FlyLady, some of that has been changing.

I don’t have to ask him about how important church is in his life; I’ve seen him work hard to be there nearly every Sunday. I know what style of food he likes because I’ve eaten dishes he made for church pot lucks. I know him. I don’t just know what he says about himself. I know what other people say about him. I know what his image is, and who he is.

My best friend is getting ready to get engaged to a man she’s known for about 4 months, and visited 2. I’m scared out of my socks. I haven’t even talked to my crush about dating, and they are talking about a wedding in July. There are so many subtle things I’m sure they don’t know about each other.

What I do know is the guy is actually pretty decent. My friend is happy, and at peace. I don’t sense any fear in her. And the guy isn’t getting in the way of my friendship. He’s not cutting her off from her life. He’s not likely to abuse her.

I’m freaked out that they are moving too fast.

House Fairy Magic

Silver Glitter is a magic substance in my house. It causes children to pick up apple cores, and get dressed on time!

Last night House Fairy came for her first inspection, and the children failed inspection. As I put them to bed, I took stock of their room. It was in excellent condition. All the toys were picked up! It was a sight of beauty. I delighted in it.

Once they were asleep, I took at my folder and got prepared. Happily I sorted thru my prepared letters, and chose their rewards. With my silver glitter in hand I found a spot for Ian’s new trash can on his bed. I sprinkled glitter all over the bed, and in the trash can. I turned around.

There were toys on the floor, and blankets pulled out of the closet. I stared at these offending items. What had happened?

I looked back at Ian’s new trash can with Sponge Bob. I looked at the glitter all over the place. I thought of stories parents told. Some told of wonderful rooms, clean with lots of surprises for their children. Other parents told about kids who didn’t pass inspection, and how that was the best thing that ever happened because they got very serious about their room.

I let them fail inspection.

This morning when they woke up, I casually pointed out the glitter. Two blurry eyed kids stared at the glitter. They fingered it.

“Where’s our surprise?” my daughter finally asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, caressing her forehead.

“We didn’t follow the rules,” my son declares. “Look, there are toys on the floor.”

I nod sadly. “Off to the bathroom with you. Gotta get dressed.”

My daughter refuses to get out of bed, and my son is quickly changed. Later I realize that my daughter staid in the bedroom so she could pick things up before getting dressed.

My daughter actually got to watch a Magic School Bus video this morning because she was dressed before breakfast time!

I love House Fairy!

Love and Logic mornings, I think

I have concluded that no matter what I do, my daughter is going to scream in the morning. I’ve tried just about all the love and logic tricks I know. She has her choices, I don’t nag, there are set things I control. But the truth is she wants control of the situation. She wakes up slowly, and makes a decision to fight me. That is all there is to it.

Most mornings I wake her up. Each kid gets some cuddle time before they are supposed to get dressed. My daughter likes to fall back to sleep in my arms. I try to get her off to the bathroom, but some mornings she never makes it beyond the bedroom floor. As I get breakfast ready I give her choices about what she’d like for breakfast. Since she chooses the same thing every morning, I’m really letting her know the world is moving forward without her. Milk or Juice? From under a blanket comes the response, Milk. In the other bathroom, her brother puts on his pants, Juice. Her brother runs off to make his bed while her head finally sees the bathroom light. She rubs her eyes, and stares at the clothes she put out.

Each night they pick out their own clothing. I learned early that I wanted to avoid choices in the morning. Blurry eyed kids take a long time to decide important things like clothes. Better to be done when one is wide awake. First thing in the morning does not qualify as wide awake.

Breakfast time, I announce. The first scream issues from the bathroom. But I’m not ready! Oh, munchkin, I say back, that’s so sad! And off I go to eat my breakfast with my son. My son is my sensitive kid. He knows that I like quiet. He gets up to the table with his blanket over his head, and I pour milk into my cereal. We say the prayer, and he stares at his food. Half way thru my cereal, he finally starts eating.

Meanwhile there are screams thru this. Mommy, don’t pray without me. Mommy, I want my breakfast. And then the all general loud crying scream.

Finally I go switch the wet clothes into the dryer. And after this I go look at the now quiet occupant of the bathroom. With her shirt on, and pj pants on, she is curled back up with her blanket. Just curious baby, I say, are you going to come eat breakfast this morning, or go hungry. A wail erupts from the blanket, and I walk back to the dining room table.

My son is busy with his food, and I sit down to the table. We finish our breakfast together. I drink the rest of my juice and sit back to watch him. He really is such a good kid. My daughter carries her shoes out the couch, and plops down with a wail. I can’t do it! She yells at me. Oh, why not? Because I’m too tired. She has her thumb in her mouth, and is holding her blanket. Her hair is standing on end.

What a bummer, I say as I rinse out my bowl. Breakfast time ends when the big hand gets to the 10. Eat enough to hold you until lunch.

Another wail accompanies this morning mantra. She stamps her feet, and stuffs her socks on. I go back to the now deserted bathroom to brush my teeth.

At the appointed time I come to shoe the kids down from the table. She wails again, and my son scurries to put his bowl up in the kitchen. They are sent back to the bathrooms to brush teeth and hair while I clean their dishes.

You’ve got five minutes. Do you need help putting the toothpaste on your toothbrush? I check on each of them. Some mornings they are independent, and other mornings they each whine and need help. Can you brush your teeth yourself, or do you need me to do it? My daughter screams her displeasure at me. How dare I insinuate that she is a baby and can’t do things for herself. She jams the toothbrush in her mouth just to prove she can do this for herself.

My son runs off to put his jacket on. He loves taking out the trash. He likes running out on his own. My daughter of course screams about the jacket, her mittens, and everything else under the sun. Followed by screaming about the fact that her backpack isn’t zipped up. Oh, that’s so sad, what do you think you should do about it?

I’ll zip it up, she says.

When will she ever learn that there are lots of things she can do?

Well, it’s better than it used to be. So, she is learning.

Lice

I discovered my daughter has lice. During church I happened to be stroking her ear, and the back of her neck. As I caressed her hair, I noticed tiny dark specks. Something clicked. This last week she’s been scratching her head a lot.

I won’t run the list of what we’ve done, but it’s been awful. I am so tired, and my daughter is equally exhausted. For her the worst was loosing her blankie to the washing machine while I went thru her hair!

I’m praying she’ll be good enough for school tomorrow. She had a very bad case. I’m also scared to death that her father won’t take this seriously.

I don’t think she caught it at her dad’s house. I suspect she shared a hat at school, or something like that. But I’m equally sure that she’s left a nice population of eggs around both of our homes to keep reinfesting her head.

I’m scared that he’ll pick her up tomorrow, and reinfest her with more lice.

Visitation

“Mommy, when is Daddy coming to get me?” My son begs

“Daddy’s not coming.” I say trying to keep my voice as gentle as possible. My poor little boy has been thru so much since my husband left us. And worst of all is the way his father has treated him.

I was pregnant with my son when I met my husband. My husband was there when he was born. When he was two months old, I married the man he calls Daddy. There is no biological relationship. And anyone who looks as my Cuban/Mexican boy, and the man he calls Daddy can see they have no blood in common.

“Would you like to call and talk to Daddy?” Better to let the blame lie squarely in the corner where it belongs. Better my little guy know that I’ve tried my darnedest.

We run to my bedroom and I put the cell phone on speaker. “Hey, he’d really like to come over, can I bring him to you?” I ask.

“No, I’m sick,” he says.

“Well, I’ve got him right here, can you explain it to him?”

“Hey buddy, Daddy’s sick, and you’ve been sick. I don’t want to get your sister sick, or any of the other kids sick. And I really don’t want to get Debby sick.”

Debby is the reason he left me. Debby is the other woman.

My son’s body shakes in silent tears. He is unable to talk, lifting his head occasionally to look at the phone. His eyes beg, beg for Daddy to come get him.

Later when he was in his bath, I called my home teacher. Left him a voice mail, “Please be here tomorrow! He really needs that time. Daddy basically told him that he’s not as important as Deborah. His feelings were hurt really bad.”

House Fairy Vs. Jesus

Last night was my kids first official day of House Fairy. From now on they are getting surprise inspections. When the room is clean, they get a letter, and a surprise. When the room is not up to par, all they get is fairy dust.

In the space of 5 days I’ve created a mythical creature. That is, with the help of the website, online videos and other neat things. My children are convinced that a real House Fairy is coming to inspect their room. For her sake they are willing to clean, and help out around here. They truly believe House Fairy can spy on them with her magic telescope. She knows if they are being well behaved, and who left the blocks in the middle of the room. And not only that, Mommy has her e-mail address, and phone number. I can call and leave messages about what the children would like for surprises, and let House Fairy know when they are messing up.

For six years I’ve been trying to teach them that Jesus is a real person who loves them very much. I take them to church, and have them color pictures of him. We watch videos, and read stories out of the Bible. I have them memorize verses, and we talk often of what Christ would want us to do. He gives us Eternal Life, and the Plan of Happiness. He is the author of our Salvation. He is the Peace Giver, and Tree of Life. We each have direct access to Him thru prayer. And He can respond to us thru inspiration of the Holy Ghost. He can direct our thoughts and help us achieve things we never knew were possible.

Occasionally I have great moments of insight with the kids, and I see their faith come alive. But it disappoints me that a mythical creation like House Fairy works better than our real Lord. I’ve been praying off and on for inspiration on how to bring Christ alive for these two.

The ex's responce

Doesn’t it just break your heart? My little guy is sick! I’ll be taking him to the doctor here in about 15 minutes, so I have to make this quick.

I woke him up this morning, and quickly realized he was running a temperature. After I called work and told them I wouldn’t be there, I sent my ex an e-mail to ask if he could watch the little guy for the day.

I’ve got some other single mother friends. They can’t even ask their ex’s for anything. An e-mail like mine would have gotten the response, That’s so bad, I’m the better parent, and can always take better care of the kid, now hand the kid over and get out of the way. Or well that’s what you deserve for letting the kids play outside. Instead of offering to help, it would have become a battle to demonstrate who was the best parent.

My ex works shift work, and is off during the week. I can never keep track of his schedule. But as I was driving my daughter to school he called me back. I put the phone on speaker and we discussed the situation.

“Could you take him for the afternoon, so that I can get the prescriptions and everything?” I asked. My ex is the after school babysitter on a daily basis.

“Sure, I can even meet you at the pharmacy, and pick him up from you so he doesn’t have to wait or anything.” He agreed. “Just give me a call at 2:30 and let me know what the plan is. Do you want me to keep him the whole afternoon, like usual?"

“Yes please. He’s already said he wants to come over to your house.”

My ex is not going to win parent of the year contest. I don’t agree with him on a lot of things. But I know I am so lucky. He does truly love the children, and he tries his best to do what’s best for them.
Now, we can play bash the ex next week, because what he thinks is best can be pretty screwy. He really does his best to help the kids and me. And I appreciate it a lot.