Chicken Scratch

2010-11-27T19:15:00.001-08:00

FUCK you. Yeah, you.

Antithetical Perversion

2009-09-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

I lay sprawled out on my bed.

naked. dug up. exposed. on display.

Yet inside myself.

limbs spanning four corners.

felt by everyone. understood by no one.

get on top of me. get under me. get off.

layers upon layers upon layers.

I'm cold. I'm hot. I'm neither.

I hate myself. I love myself.

I try to save myself.

come close. go away.

sinking. floating. swimming frantically.

touch me. refrain. walk away.

I'm coming. I'm going.

talk to me. shut up. let me be.

try to get inside me. give up.

it feels good. it hurts. its numb.

I'm relieved. I'm tense. confused.

I'm happy. I'm sad. void yet full.

I'm quiet. I'm explosive. listen. turn your back.

I'm hungry. thirsty. satisfied.

I want to feed you.

tie me up. free me.

I want to stay. I want to leave.

chase me. catch me. let me go.

I want to drive. be driven. in. out.

I want to fight. feel pain. I want to love.

I reject it.

I want to give. I want to receive. I want.

I'm drunk. I'm sober. I want to spin. hold still.

existing. I want to live. I lust for death.

2009-09-14T09:56:00.000-07:00

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

-C.S. Lewis

I've placed my heart in a box

a dark box with walls of four

protected and yet useless

as it sits there on the floor...

in the box that keeps it safe

and keeps it void of feeling

its cold and hard and incomplete

but it keeps you from stealing...

the key that opens up the box

exposing it to vulnerability

of which I cannot take the chance

nor do posses ability...

to give love or to receive it

unwilling to take the risk

so I've removed it from my body

sure protection in the abyss...

of a soul virtually empty

a body going through the motions

ever moving, never thinking

cause it can't stand the notion...

of exposing it to a threat

I don't have a breakable heart

for how can you really destroy one

that was never whole from the start?

Stealing Darkness

2009-09-10T12:50:00.000-07:00

I wake up in the morning

my thoughts chain me to the bed

I push against a heaviness

a mess inside my head

I can sense the darkness fading

giving way unto the light

I do not want to face the day

a greater ally makes the night

The night doesn't ask me questions

or demand answers for my pain

It lets me escape the gnawing day

and doesn't force me to explain

Unable to drive the light away

I accept it will be unkind

pitting a fight against the enemy

a mute and idle mind

I distract it till again I feel

the relief of coming night

where my secrets have a place to rest

and against thoughts I do not fight.

Facing the Night in Shining Armor

2009-09-08T13:18:00.000-07:00

I stand at the gate waiting for attack

Existing, absorbed with self protection

staring at the night, in shining armor

exposed yet ensconsed

to a night that never ends

Just as the Roman soldiers

I trained for knighthood as a child

defining my war and social class

armor assembled piece by piece

allusive instructions to let nobody in

and now I can't escape

a prisoner to my mind

a body that is in waiting

my body thats stiff, still, going numb

It's dark and here I stand

confined to my protection

never see the light of day

I can't show my face

this helmet shows no honor

You try to push through the gate

I stand without budging

you take out your sword and strike

but vibration is all I feel

Your threat is futile

my own arms can't even bend

to feel my heart alive

I only trust that it still beats

nothing in, nothing out

only camouflaged affliction

misery that's eccentric

in its comforting clutch

a pain that causes swelling

in armor that does not give

the yearning to take it off

to breathe, to feel, to live

I start to itch as if I'm healing

letting down my guard

I let you open the visera

to give me a sip of water

I start to fantasize about escape

I'm thirsty, dry, reaching

I want to sit, bend, stretch

but what a farcical idea

close the visera

my mind is playing tricks

decline the wetting of my mouth

It's risky in this facade

but I'm thirsty again

Standing at the gate staring at the night

is me in shining armor

enmeshed to desire

tortured by the past

of an untimely crusifixion

waiting for attack

Steve

2009-07-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

As I walked into Chevy's I noticed a backpack on the floor, complete with a sleeping bag at the entrance. It was late and uncrowded and I immediately new who it belonged to. There sat a man, disheveled and alone listening to a portable CD player. I sat one barstool down from him. Not to close but not to far. His name, as I would discover, was Steve. He glanced over and asked how I was today. At the time I was ordering so I gave no response. As I sat there I watched him. I watched him bob his head and play his drums as if nobody was watching. I hoped that he would look at me again. Enthralled in the comfort of music I saw tears begin to fall on the bar as he said to himself, "I don't know why this happens every time I listen to this song. I cry. Every time. It must be the trees." I thought he must be out of his mind. Then we talked. As we talked he laughed and cried. He expressed joy, anger, hopelessness. I was sincere and I realized we were alike. Two people trying to make it through this fucked up life. Steve has melanoma and only six months to live. Steve has had a hard life. I don't know why or all he's been through but he is human, as we all are, deserving of contact. I am no more deserving or better than him, nor him than I. And that is how we talked. Just two people with many differences yet many similarities. His taco sat untouched on his plate. The cancer stole his appetite. I wanted to do something for him. I helped him pay for his meal and as I stood up to leave he reached out to hug me. He was homeless and dirty but something inside me looked beyond that and I embraced him. He thanked me with a raw gratitude, expressed from his eyes that made me realize it wasn't the money, but my ability to treat him like the human he is and to listen... to try to understand why the trees make him cry. It was humbling as I realized that I am sane, not because I want to be, but out of necessity in this life full of trees.

Always Listen to Your Nurse

2009-02-02T12:01:00.001-08:00

I have learned so much in the last year and a half about being a nurse. One of the things I have learned is to always listen to your nurse. I write this so when I have one of those days when I feel like a shitty nurse, it will make me feel better. I had a patient the other day who came in with altered mental status. He was indeed confused and oriented only to his name. The last time anybody saw him normal was 2 days ago. EMS states he was found in the backyard, in a chair, "baking" in the sun. I know it's warm for Jan. Mr Paramedic but it's still only 65 degrees. Ok, so he has a little slurred speech, but no other signs of a stroke. Still, we send him for a CT of his brain,which I agree was the first thing we should have done. Meanwhile I put him on some oxygen. Low and behold when he comes back to the ER he is A&O X 3. CT scan is normal. But Mr. Slow as Mollasses Dr. is not looking at the big picture. I suggest we do a chest x-ray because the only thing we haven't ruled out as a possible cause of his altered mental status is hypoxia (and the fact that he improved with O2) and drug use which I highly doubt in this sweet 92 year-old man.. Mr S-A-M Dr. hesitantly agrees to a chest x-ray. Low and behold...pneumonia. I kinda wonder if he would have sent him home, if I hadn't insisted on the x-ray.

Location Humor

2009-02-02T09:47:00.000-08:00

You know those times when someone tells you a story and they are laughing so hard, and then you say, "I guess you had to be there"? This may be one of those stories but for me it's like a comical scene right out of a movie. I had a patient the other day, clearly psychotic, who was on a 5150 hold. When I took over her care she was still fully dressed and in four leather restraints. Anyway, I had security come assist me so that we could remove two restraints at a time and remove her clothing (which should have been done at the time the hold was placed). Shame on the prior shift. As she was sitting up in the bed rambling on psychotically, as they do, she proceeded to spit three times in a row, seemingly in slow motion, first in the face of security, mine, then the sitter. All before any of us had time to even think about a Mel Gibson move in Lethal Weapon. Now, I really hate spit in my face, (unless it's smeared on me by the lips of someone I'm into) so I proceeded to get a spit sock (illustrated above) out of another room, followed by a security officer who must have been 6'5" and around 300 lbs. Excuse me while I contain my laughter...again. As we begin to enter "Mrs. Spit 5150's" room, he begins to open it up like he is going to put it over his own head, while asking with genuine concern, "Do you have two more?" I appreciate your concern to keep all of our faces dry Mr. Security but if we just put the one we have over her face, she can be into herself and we won't have to dodge bullets. I don't think I've laughed this hard since I watched Lethal Weapon.

25 random things about me

2009-01-29T10:17:00.001-08:00

1. Strokin' is one of my favorite words.

2. I love and can relate to Creed lyrics like no other band.

3. Deep inside, I am a very cool person but feel misunderstood by people who don't get to know me.

4. Sometimes I wish I could tell my mom things that happened to me as a child but know it would only serve to add to her guilt.

5. I am the most non picky eater I know. I will eat almost anything.

6. I consider myself to be pretty level headed and laid back.

7. I wonder if the fact that I don't feel strongly about anything, is a result of number 6.

8. I met my husband when I was 15. We both played on the worship team for our church youth group. He played the piano and I played the drums.

9. I played the drums from 4th grade until I was a sophmore in high school.

10. I hate the verse in the bible that says, "but I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart."

11. I find the bible very boring and contradictory. Take for instance, the verse about temptation not being a sin. Number 10 implies that it is.

12. I have been bungee jumping.

13. I won a $500 scholarship for getting a 4.0 in nursing school and got a tattoo with the money.

14. Nursing school was the hardest and most stressful thing I have ever been through and feel stronger as a person because of it.

15. Softball is my favorite thing to do. Followed by mountain biking, dirt biking, wakeboarding, racquetball and volleyball. I like to challenge my body physically and hope to be able to continue these things for a long time.

16. Sometimes I fell very angry for no reason.

17. I do not have much of a conscience, and wonder if it is a result of overbearing religion and hypocrisy in the church.

18. For the most part I really enjoy my job as a nurse in the second busiest emergency room in San Francisco.

19. Michael Jackson's song, PYT, reminds me of my best friend everytime I hear it.

20. Doing laundry is my favorite chore.

21. I love to play Pictionary and Balderdash!

22. I think life would be very dull and colorless without music.

23. I got married when I was 17 and had my first baby when I was 20. People are surprised to hear that I was not pregnant when I got married. I have four kids and have been married 18 years next month. I am proud of that since statistics strongly support that I be divorced.

24. My oldest daughter is a very deep thinker like myself, and that scares me.

25. I have a dark and dirty side.

Dear Brooke

2008-12-12T12:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Brooke,

Just wanted to write you a letter and let you know how special you are to me. Ever since you started talking you have expressed a concern for others and their feelings. "Manda do?" you would ask when Amanda was crying. You wanted to know why. It bothered you when she was upset. When you played games in elementary school, you would pick the kids that nobody else would. I have always been amazed at your empathy for other people and concern for their feelings. I know as you get older and realize more about the world it will become harder and harder to show empathy when you are hurt by others but I will always know it is at the core of who you are. I have seen you want to give up when you have felt hurt by dad and me. I encourage you to hang on to it. If there were more people in the world like you, it would be a better place. That and your leadership abilities will take you far in life. People are drawn to you because of your compassionate nature. Sometimes when I think about how proud I am of you, I cry. You are smart and funny. You always make me laugh. I appreciate how responsible you are with your school work and your effort to stay on the honor roll. Some parents have to battle with their kids to do their homework but I don't with you because you just do it and you do it well. I hope that after we talked you don't think I think the worst of you anymore. I truly and honestly think you are a great kid, absolutely not a bad kid like you thought I thought. I guess I don't tell you often enough and I am sorry. I am sorry if I have hurt you. I love you very, very much and I always will no matter what.

Spoon Full of Air

2008-11-01T19:24:00.000-07:00

I can remember going to baby showers as a kid with my mom. I particularly remember the games. I remember being blindfolded and trying to spoon cottonballs out of a bowl with a big metal spoon. I remember being blindfolded and trying to pick safety pins out of a bowl of rice. You can really feel like you are piling up a mound of cottonballs only to take off the blindfold and find two.
I can remember feeling void as a kid. As an adult I fight apathy. I dig and dig and dig in the bowl trying to feel something but every time I peek from under the blindfold, the spoon contains only air. When I finally do get a hold of concern, it falls and dissipates before I even know it's there. I'm scooping frantically...my timer is going to ring... I always was better at the Word Finds.

Thank You...NOT!

2008-10-21T18:00:00.001-07:00

I often ask myself how I ended up with the two most thankless, under- appreciated jobs on earth. There must be some psychological significance but I don't care to unearth it. The absolute number one thankless job is motherhood...times four for
me. I love math, so I thought if I looked at it mathematically I might gain better perspective.

Daily Duties:
Get kid ready for school x 1
Wash dishes x 2
Help with homework x2
Straighten the house X 1
Make dinner X 1
Read bedtime story X 1
Teach life lessons x 4
Oversee chores x 4

Weekly Duties:
Grocery shop x 1
Laundry x 1
Taxi Driver x 4

Number of times I feel appreciated per week: 0-1

22 duties
0-1 thanks
mmm...nope.

I watch annebriated patients with orders to Observe Till Sober. This translates to watch them sleep it off while they stink up the emergency room until they graduate to the 'I have to pee and I don't care where' stage and hope that I catch them between caring for my other 3-4 patients. When they graduate further to the 'fuck you' stage I can usually send them home with no thanks for making sure they actually continued to breathe during their deep slumber.

I get patients ready for surgery on short notice, while the MD's expect that I can implement two hours worth of orders in 45 minutes. And for you Mrs. surgeon, it is imperative that I actually chart everything I did before I can send the patient up because I have to send a copy of the chart with him. I also need to call report the the OR nurse. Nevermind that I worked my ass off to accomplish this, and not ignore my other patients (oh you forgot about that?) one of which is yelling at me everytime I pass her in the hallway that she wants to talk to the MD because I told her he wouldn't order methadone. Go talk to her if you want me to get this guy to surgery, for goodness sake "the methadone clinic closes in 45 minutes!" Again, no thanks for my wonder woman speed. Only unspoken disgust that things aren't done faster.

The bright side...I am forced to thank myself in various ways.

I knew they would pull their head out

2008-10-21T08:48:00.000-07:00

Seems the threat of a family vacation to Nebraska will no longer be effective:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081020/ap_on_re_us/safe_haven

Camping Blissfully...Not

2008-10-01T15:37:00.000-07:00

So we went camping this weekend and my girls had attitudes big as the nose on the Nyquil commercial. It was one of those times when it takes everything you have to refrain from slapping them. Speaking of commercials, family getaways are always so deceiving when you see them advertised on TV. I don't see how our family vacations will someday evoke memories of galloping happily down the beach on horseback with smiles as big as Mr. Ed's. No twirling around on Teacups, hair blowing in the wind, embracing hands as we skip happily to the next ride. TV commercials should really be more realistic to avoid setting up well meaning parents for disappointment. How about a kid whining and pouting because he doesn't want to stand in line for Space Mountain with a lovely voice suggesting you " Screw Disneyland...vacation close to home at a hotel with a swimming pool. It will save you money AND make your kids happy." Anyway, we went dirt biking at a place we used to enjoy going when the kids were younger. I'm not sure when the girls decided it was stupid. Guess they are too cool now which is fine. But don't complain the whole time and act like it is a big inconvenience. I got very upset because they both recently suggested that it bothers them that I work. Ok, so I switch my schedule around so we can spend some time together and this is the thanks I get. Mind you, I only work three days a week. I'm pretty sure his and my jobs rank up there pretty high on the top 100 stressful job list. So kids, when you grow up and your frontal lobe is finally completely developed you might realize we NEEDED these times to get away. We are going camping again in a week and if you're not careful we might be making a detour to Nebraska.

If you don't want inside my head, don't read my blog

2008-10-01T11:18:00.000-07:00

I got a little bored today
while I was driving home
Object of my Desire came on
and my hand began to roam

Wonder what they thought behind
as my head it thrashed about
I had to roll my windows up
so they wouldn't hear me shout

They say the flesh is weak
the problem's, the opposite is true
mine feels awful powerful
when I'm thinking about you

I've been feeling kind of lonely
glad to see your face today
What is that you want to know?
Can I come out to play?

Sure I'll come play your game
taste your lips so soft and sweet
lets take a walk to the car
and sit in the back seat

I like your cherry chapstick
and your lips that it coats
I like to get inside them
slide my tongue down your throat

I think I'm going crazy
I tremble and I ache inside
you pull me over on to you
and your lap I give a ride

You tempt me and you tease me
You push my head down south
The wine hits my stomach
and I take you in my mouth

I'm not sure what to think
from the look that you behold
Is it wrong, what feels so right
our inhibitions uncontrolled

Take a deep breath as we inhale
look up at the stars where we lay
You're always welcome at my door
next time you want to play.

Return Policies

2008-09-28T20:38:00.000-07:00

I bought a vacuum one time and after about 95 days it broke. I tried to take it back to the store but they would not do anything about it because the receipt clearly states that you only have 90 days to make a return. I thought they might make an exception because it was a bit more of a purchase than say, a shirt I decided I didn't like. And I certainly expect a vacuum to last more than 3 months. So, I took the vacuum home and we somehow made it work even though it was not quite what we expected when we made the original purchase. I had envisioned a vacuum that would push itself, that would pick up the deepest grime, and even get the corners with the least of maneuvering from me. Pretty delusional I guess. I guess as humans we sometimes have unrealistic expectations about what it will be like to have a baby so in Nebraska, as I so painfully discovered in the paper, they have extended the 72 hours that you have to drop a newborn at a hospital, no questions asked. Yeah, they've actually extended the time frame a bit beyond the three days by about...18 years!!!!! Something is just so wrong about that. There ARE questions to be asked. This has to be a joke. There have already been 11 dropoffs, abandonements, whatever. 9 of them siblings. How does it take someone nine kids to figure out that it's hard to raise them, that it might not be quite what they thought it would? So now we can have kids and then decide at any time during their toddlerhood, adolescence, whenever, that we changed our mind. That is disgusting, scary, embarrassing for our country. Ok, so you have nine kids, which must be very stressful, I concur. But what, how did you make it this far, that suddenly, when it becomes legal for you to abandon them you jump at the chance? How are these kids gonna fair when the person they think loves them most in this world gives up on them? Wow. We need a new return policy. I say extend it for vacuums and contract it for human beings.

Have I seen it all?

2008-09-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

To my patient in room 5, it is not the really sick and dying that make my job so difficult. It is people like you. Low class people with a sense of entitlement. When I came in your room to start your IV, it was my intention to help you, as with any patient. When you said you couldn't look at me while I did it because you would slap the shit out of me, I wasn't frightened. You don't intimidate me. You are an idiot. I actually chuckled internally at your ignorance. It is an inconvenience to wear this mask so I don't get TB from you, don't act like it is a big deal to put one on while you go get your x-ray. You don't care that you could potentially spread it to others? Why would I expect more? I would like to thank you for the entertainment though. Everyday I think I've seen it all and everyday there is a new surprise! You are 55 years old and you SUCKED YOUR THUMB while I drew your blood. Wow, real intimidating, now I am really afraid you might slap me. Honestly, that one left me speechless. You are 55 fucking years old and you have hickies all over your neck! I think you won the prize today. Close running to the mother who brought her daughter in for a pencil stab. A tiny, barely abrased, no led left... S.C.R.A.T.C.H Tax dollars at work. @@

Inject Novacaine Here ----> <3

2008-09-07T17:56:00.000-07:00

Yes, I can still feel it right there. It bothers me. I am not completely numb.
Code 3. 55M. Suffered cardiac arrest while playing tennis.
Nobody wakes up in the morning with dying on their agenda.
There was nothing we could do to save him.
16 year-old daughter at his bedside crying, saying "bring him back.
What am I gonna do?"
That made it hit a little too close to home.
I am trying to find a balance between keeping my compassion and self protection.
Maybe experience and time will be my novacaine, .08 ml at a time, until I am comfortably numb.
Damn, I wasn't gonna drink tonight.

Hands Free

2008-09-02T12:07:00.000-07:00

I think to save the expense, I'm going to carry a big rubber band in my car. I think this new hands free law is the biggest load of shit ever. People do all kinds of things with their hands while they drive. I would venture to say that it is the distraction of conversation and not the physical holding of the phone that is the reason for the statistics. The fact that, as an adult, we can text while driving but not hold a phone to our ear is just absurd. The way I have to fumble around to switch to speaker phone when I get a call proves how much safer this new law makes everyone. @@ Never mind when I try to text. I am failing to see the logic in this one. Guess I'll wait for a new set of statistics.

Dear Amanda

2008-09-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

Ever since you were little you have amazed me. Your intelligence even as a baby was apparent. You seemed to do everything early. Even your teachers were impressed, so I know it wasn't my bias. I guess in a way I did come to "expect" it from you because that is all you showed, over achievement. I have always felt very proud of you, many times to the point of tears as I sat in an audience and listened to you spell word after word correctly and advance to the top, or listened to you sing and play your guitar with amazing talent. You always made the honor roll with what seemed like ease. I always tried to teach you that whatever you do, to do your best and that the personal satisfaction you felt would be your reward. Now, I realize that for some people that is not enough. It is true that I expect you to do well in school because you are so capable and I am truly sorry that I didn't tell you enough how proud I was of you. If my lack of praise played any roll in the mistakes that you made and the pain you suffered as a result of those mistakes, or had anything to do with you tiring of being "the good girl", I apologize from the bottom of my heart. Remember when you asked me if my heart ever physically hurts? When I think about how much I love you and how proud I am of you, I can literally feel it in my chest sometimes. You are an amazing person with amazing talent and great potential and nothing you could do would ever make me stop loving you.

Love, Mom

Perimeter of a Circle

2008-08-30T14:22:00.000-07:00

I long for beguilement
in this life thats turned me numb
God I want to feel something
from sex, Jesus or the rum

I think I'm turning circles
looking for another high
A fight against this torpid life
let me laugh or even cry

I've been high on Jesus
but only in a crowd
or listening to music
inside my head I have bowed

I know he is there somewhere
I wouldn't dare deny
but I get tired of Where is Waldo
and I get bored with "I Spy"

The game works for a while
but I have a touch of ADD
Different time, different reason
you will find me on my knees

Tell me now what you like
what it is that you prefer
You want me to look up at you
Is what I would infer

by the way you pull upon my hair
and softly grab my chin
pushing my head into you
I feel a warmness in my skin

My jaw is getting tired
and my lips are getting sore
just in time you let me go
and throw me on the floor

Please forgive me Father
I can't help the things I do
I get bored with my appetite
my throat burns for something new

On my way around the circle
when I get blase from warm I swallow
the attention goes from south to north
a cold high is sure to follow

Now I don't really care for rum
it's just what rhymed above
to the thing I am addicted
is whatever I'm out of

I like whiskey, vodka or patron
they go down as smooth as silk
Give me brandy, wine, Newcastle
or schnapps mixed with milk

I really am not picky
a vertiginous feel is what I crave
then I really do not think about
the way I should behave

So listen mother fucker
I'm not here to mess around
I've got all the man I need
but on your wife I might go down

So one foot is nailed to the floor
to me escape does appeal
till the circle has been realized
and I'm back to where I kneel

His mercies are new in the morning
says Lamentations 3:23
I wonder from my iniquities
if I ever will be free

I create these highs so I will know
that I am still alive
hoping that the lethargy
inside me, it will die

Thinking Mind Required

2008-08-28T13:13:00.000-07:00

My mind never rests
It won't let me be
So I figure ER nursing
is the place for me

Now, I am not seasoned
by any sense of the word
But Mrs. Dash has been tipped
and a thing or two I've learned

Do not get me wrong now
I thrive on staying busy
My mind spins so fast sometimes
I sit to keep from getting dizzy

Wait, that's right, I don't sit
Even for eating there is no time
There is no nurse to cover me
Isn't that a crime?

So you say you want some medicine
You say you are in pain
Hold still and quit yelling
I need to cannulate your vein

Hang on, my drunk patient
he is pissing in the hall
Standing there with his pants down
Now I think I've seen it all

Let me check my new guy in 2
Just to take a peek
Oh yes,I recognize his face
It is only drugs he seeks

So here you are at seventeen
a pint of vodka that you downed
Now you crapped on my floor
Here's a diaper and a crown

You think that I am kidding
but when you come back around
you'll have a diaper between your legs
Once but not twice do I pick up brown

Now I do have patients
thankful for the work I do
What a shame I'm always charting
to keep from getting sued

Did I chart I checked your blood pressure
before I gave you diazepam?
Yes I heard you have an earache
but this guy is dying, Ma'am

Ma'am is what I call you
but what I really want to say
is get a clue about acuity
You weren't born yesterday

I realize you've been waiting
for two hours, maybe more
but there is a thing called priority
when an ambulance comes through the door

I understand you have an earache
but this guy, his heart won't beat
this is not rocket science
Go ahead and make the leap

So you see, my busy mind of mine
comes in handy while I work
But when I lay down to go to sleep at night
It drives me beserk

Did I chart that and more importantly
did I recall the corrected time
Is there something I should have done differently
Screw it just get me a Corona and a lime.
Goodnight

Disheartened

2007-11-05T17:31:00.000-08:00

I am so disheartened with the human race right now. Between vandalism, threats, and a new job in the mission district of San Francisco, I feel so negative.
I've tried hard to raise my kids with some sort of a moral obligation to humanity but lately I have asked myself why. So they can get trampled on by the "little shits" of the world? I try to bring them up so that they will be prepared to face the world but I think I have failed. If I had brought them up as "little shits" too, they would be more prepared for the world. It breaks my heart to see them flabbergasted and confused at how other kids really are. My neighborhood is full of them.
I let a neighborhood kid spend the night with my youngest son and something happened that clearly suggests this kid has been exposed to something no kid that age should. Out of concern for the kid, my husband brought it to the attention of his caregivers (granparents?). Being a nurse myself and him having worked in family violence in his law enforcement career, we knew this was not a normal childhood behavior. What thanks do we get for trying to protect a child? Our daughter is being threatened by his older sisters at school. I consider myself to be pretty intelligent, but I can't figure that one out. Oh, plus the fact that they are not allowed to play with my kids anymore. Gardians choice, not ours, although we are glad. Little shits.
And then my other son who is being threatened because he told on a kid for shooting him with a pellet gun. N.I.C.E. I've had it.
Our car and our house has been egged on two seperate occassions in the past two months. Why do I try so hard with my kids to feel slapped in the face by humanity? To feel like I'm the bad guy?
I don't think taking a job in the emergency room in San Francisco has helped either. To have such a heart to help people only to have a bunch of people who don't want to help themselves is hard... drug addicts, narcotic seekers, people who should go to the doctors office.
Then there was the bomb threat at my daughter's high school today. Please just shoot me now.

Song Dedication

2007-09-13T15:12:00.000-07:00

DEDICATED TO THE MAN WHO MADE MY MAMA CRY:

I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself cause MY HEART HAS SO MUCH MISERY
I will not break the way you did
You fell so hard
I've learned the hard way, to never let it get that far

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I LEARNED TO PLAY ON THE SAFE SIDE
So I don't get hurt
Because of you
I FIND IT HARD TO TRUST
NOT ONLY ME, BUT EVERYONE AROUND ME
Because of you
I AM AFRAID

I LOSE MY WAY
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes
I'M FORCED TO FAKE A SMILE, a laugh
Every day of my life
My heart can't possibly break
WHEN IT WASN'T EVEN WHOLE TO START WITH

I watched you die
I heard you cry
Every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry
In the middle of the night
For the same damn thing

Cyber Sex vs. Porn

2007-09-12T08:43:00.000-07:00

So, I was reading an advice column this morning. This lady writes that she found out her husband of 40 years is watching porn and she feels cheated on. The advice: MOST men watch porn and unless he is contacting these women or having cyber sex he isn't cheating. Huh? I found myself wondering how cyber sex is cheating and watching porn is not. I'm not here to defend either one but to say, what's the difference? So allow me to think outloud for a minute. Porn has real people having sex or masturbating or whatever. People watch it and get off. Cyber sex has real people writing and reading the written word. People read it and get off. Men are visual. Women are more, well, something else. Both are tools to aid in masturbation while thinking, watching, writing about fantasies. Watching porn doesn't involve getting together physically with someone else and neither does cyber sex. The advice should have either stated that watching porn and having cyber sex are either both cheating or neither are. The CONTACTING others is the element that would make either one cheating.

Reasons Why I am a Mean Mom

2007-09-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

I'm mean because I make my daughter walk to school because that may be the only exercise she gets all day.

I'm mean because I only buy my kids what they NEED, not what they WANT unless it is their birthday, Christmas, or an occassional I Love you present so they might understand the difference between a need and a want and not expect everything to be handed to them when they are grown.

I'm mean because I don't give my kids money, I make them work for it because that's the way the real world works.

I'm mean because I don't let them go to friend's houses where I don't know the parents.

I'm mean because I expect my kids to do chores so they will learn pitching in and cooperation.

I'm mean because I insist on making them clean up after themselves so they don't expect any different throughout life.

I'm mean because I won't get them a cell phone just because everybody else has one.

I think I'm being reasonable and the reasons seem simple and clear to me. I anxiously wait for the day when their brains are fully functional and they can thank me for being a mean mom. Until then sometimes I feel like beating my head up against a wall over and over and over again. Why, oh why, can't pot be legal?

Books and Bagels

2007-09-05T10:23:00.000-07:00

I went to my son's kindergarten class this morning for a little session they call, Books and Bagels. No explanation necessary but I was reading a book to my son and another little boy about a kid who finds a dragon egg and after it hatches he keeps the dragon, affectionately named Hank, as a pet. So here I am reading, "after hatching, there they were, skin to scale and the little boy gave him a welcome to the world and named him Hank." This little boy, probably the smallest in the class with an earring in one ear, belts out, "Hey, Hank's on King of the Hill!" I wonder if the teacher wondered why I was laughing. Not sure why but it was quite an amusing way to start my day.

Let the stress begin.....

2007-01-21T20:51:00.000-08:00

....again. My vacation is over. I knew it would fly by. I don't want to go back to school. I am so over it, so sick of it, so done. I am ready for my life to get back to normal. I wonder if I can take the stress again. I had wanted to write more while I had some free time but in between wanes in motivation I did manage to do 50 scrapbook pages, make 6 scarves, and paint the trim my husband put up last summer. OMG, I just realized how homemaker-ish that sounded. Umm, tommorrow night I am playing volleyball. There, that sounds better. Hopefully I'll have time to stop by and say hi sometime in the next 4 months but I doubt it.

Useless Advice

2007-01-10T13:01:00.000-08:00

OK, umm I just got a call from the school resource officer from my daughter's middle school and I'm a little disturbed. Kinda so disturbed that I don't know what to do with myself so I came here...my good ol' trusted journal that takes the brunt of all my emotions, usually the negative ones, cause who feels like writing when things are well?

I learned many things from my mother growing up, as we all do, but a couple of the more useless bits of advice are as follows:

1. "Always wear clean underwear...you never now when you may end up in the hospital".

I'm pretty sure if something happened that I was taken to a hospital, I would have already crapped my pants anyway.

2. "Always act as if Jesus were sitting right next to you".

Well, if there was anybody I was going to try to trick into believing I wasn't who I said I was, it sure wouldn't be the guy who knows everything.

One thing I never learned from my mom was any advice about school violence. Maybe because back then, we didn't have to worry about kids bringing guns to school. Those were the days of good old fashioned fist fights (unless you were a girl, then you pulled hair). Today, my daughter had a pistol pointed at her in class by another kid, who said he was going to shoot her. It was a air/bb gun or something like that but still, what if it wasn't?

This Time of Year

2006-12-24T13:04:00.000-08:00

I lost two babies in 1992 and while the grief has faded over the years, every once in a while, I think about what those babies would have looked like and turned out to be and I miss them. I lost the second one in December, so in their memory I'm posting the poems I wrote back then.

My precious little child who was taken from my womb
I ask myself why your chance at life
Was taken away so soon.

When I learned that you were in my womb, I was filled with so much joy.
Quite a little surprise you were,
and I knew you were a boy.

That horrible night God took your soul
and in me your body was left.
It must have been time for me to learn
the fine line between life and death.

In the few months that I carried you,
my love it grew so strong.
I never thought something that felt so right
could ever go so wrong.

I felt so empty,
and all I did those first few weeks was cried.
For here it was, one more time,
my love had been denied.

I still have the memory;
your lifeless body on the screen.
Right then my world just crumbled.
Why was God so mean?

A part of my heart will always bleed
and I'll always wonder why.
You're in my thoughts everyday
and will be until I die.

It eases my pain to know that I
will live with you one day
But until God brings us together again
please hear what I have to say,

I love you.

I wrote this a year after losing the second one:

Its been a year since you were taken
and my heart is still so grieved.
I always ask why in my prayers to God
but the answer is not conceived.

You were the second one taken from my womb
way before your time.
I was so broken and felt so empty
You were supposed to stay here and be mine.

I feel better to know you are safe and sound
in the happiest place in the world.
But it doesn't take away the pain I feel,
the emptiness feels so real.

Someday I will meet you and your brother
It seems so far from now.
I long to know who you are
just to stroke your brow.

I had your sister two months ago
she gave me a brand new start.
She didn't take your place, for both of you know,
will always have a place in my heart.

I look forward to spending "forever" with you.
But until the day I do
Listen to what I have to say
and tell your brother too,

I love you.

Knowledge is power?

2006-12-20T12:26:00.000-08:00

Knowledge can also be anxiety provoking. I recently finished my third semester of nursing school and was admitted to the hospital towards the end (you know, right when I need to be studying the most). I have always been of the mindset to trust professionals because afterall, they go to school to learn what they do and you can't possibly know what they know so you have to just trust them to a certain degree. After my visit to the hospital I found that knowledge did not equal power...it equaled, "Wait you left air in my IV line and it's going into my body! Think, think, uh, air embolis, it's coming back to me...it can be fatal. Oh crap. How much air would it actually take? Maybe they are just overly cautious in nursing school". I turned off my IV and called the nurse anyway. "Hey, what about wiping that with alcohol before you attach it? You know, the thirty second rule". She was probably thinking what the majority of nurses tell me...real nursing is nothing like school. Besides the fact that I knew everything they were doing "wrong", I knew what they were talking about and what they were thinking when they asked certain questions. I understood why the labs didn't make sense and why they were investigating. So when you have some knowledge but not as much as the "professionals", you can see why it may be a bit anxiety provoking. Maybe that was the true reason my heartrate never went below 117. I did however come away from the experience with a few tips.

1. When a patient flinches and tells you the IV burns and stings as you flush it, trust them. No matter how much you flush and how much you want it to, the catheter tip is not going to spontaneousely go back into the vein.

2. Regardless of the fact that you theorize it may hurt less to jam the IV in as quick and hard as you can, it does indeed produce LESS pain to go in slow and easy. No, I do not have fragile veins. Anybody's vein would blow if you go in like you are trying to put an ice pick through a piece of ice.

3. Spinal taps are not that painful, contrary to popular myth.

4. Arterial Blood Gas draws are indeed more painful than spinal taps.

5. And finally, yes, nursing school does produce enough stress to make me want to become an IV drug user but my arms just look like that from a visit to the ER.

Childhood memories

2006-06-30T15:48:00.000-07:00

When I think of chidhood memories I mostly come up blank.
I have a couple early ones but I really have to think.
Denver, Colorado? Do I remember...or stories I've been told?
Playing outside, breaking the neighbor's flower pot at 3 years old.

On to California, Kentucky street...house with the stairs.
Learning to tie my shoes, a pony tail in my hair.
Warm summers, sounds of ice cream trucks, helping mom..towels to fold.
rocking chair with grandma...at...5...years...old.

Weekend visits at my dads few and far between.
Guilty feelings leaving mom, she surely needed me.
Ironing boards, scared at night, trying to be bold.
Reeces pancakes, climbing trees, playboy channel..7 years old.

Playing hide and seek with partners after dark
at my brothers friends house, by Tolenas Park.
Kick the Can, Mother may I...steps only when I'm told.
Tire swings and blowjobs at...9...years...old.

Sticker collection...Teddy Bears and Lisa Frank.
Having my first orgasm on the river bank.
Making my own spending money, delivering newspapers in the cold
summer camps, video games, apathy roots at 12 years old.

This is where my poem ends. I was a child no more at 12.
I grew up way too fast, time to put the memories back on the shelf.
Maybe I'll write again, for the memories won't be so holed.
I have better recollection starting at 13 years old.

The Rest of the Story (or the begining)

2006-02-14T15:44:00.000-08:00

I just realized that in the midst of nursing school chaos and it's abrupt interruption of my life, that I didn't end a story I said I would.

The caterpillar did indeed find the green leaf and build a cocoon. Growth is slow but the Intrareligion Growth Retardation I experienced should resolve itself with time and I am expected to be appropriate for chronological age soon. :-)

Some people say that music is the spice of life. I say it's the lazy (or too busy) writers way to express himself in a pinch. When it comes down to it, the reason I accepted the leaf is illustrated in Nichole Nordeman's song, "What if?":

What if you're right?
And he was just another nice guy
What if you're right?
What if it's true?
They say the cross will only make a fool of you
And what if it's true?

What if he takes his place in history
With all the prophets and the kings
Who taught us love and came in peace
But then the story ends
What then?

But what if you're wrong?
What if there's more?
What if there's hope you never dreamed of hoping for?
What if you jump?
And just close your eyes?
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?
What if He's more than enough?
What if it's love?

What if you dig
Way down deeper than your simple-minded friends
What if you dig?
What if you find
A thousand more unanswered questions down inside
That's all you find?

What if you pick apart the logic
And begin to poke the holes
What if the crown of thorns is no more
Than folklore that must be told and retold?

But what if you're wrong?
What if there's more?
What if there's hope you never dreamed of hoping for?
What if you jump?
And just close your eyes?
What if the arms that catch you, catch you by surprise?
What if He's more than enough?
What if it's love?

You've been running as fast as you can
You've been looking for a place you can land for so long
But what if you?re wrong?

The End of the Day

2005-09-24T20:51:00.000-07:00

Am I alone or does it just feel that way?
What is it I feel at the end of the day?
Deafeated. Again. Is what comes to mind.
I gain two steps...
then knocked to the end of the line.

Two steps forward, five steps back
won't someone carry me a few?
I'm back "at the end of the longest line"
in the words of Blink 182.

I'd get drunk if I thought it would help
but it doesn't take frustration away
Temporary happiness is better than none
some are inclined to say.

Two steps forward, five steps back
won't someone carry me a few?
I'm back "at the end of the longest line"
in the words of Blink 182.

One defeat and I'm down for the count
They're holding my face in the mud.
take a deep breathe, get up on your feet
Remember, please, the shed blood.

Two steps forward, five steps back
won't someone carry me a few?
I'm back "at the end of the longest line"
in the words of Blink 182.

Where's the one who'll take off my shoes
and lead me by the hand?
At the end of the day I want to look down
to see one set of footprints in the sand.

Two steps forward, five steps back
the path matters not anymore
As long as in this journey called life
I don't end as a prisoner of war.

Tennis Shoe Motto

2005-08-11T23:10:00.000-07:00

Recent news of the merger between Reebok and Adidas has me a little disappointed. I'm all about comfortable running shoes and Reeboks have never done it for me. Guess my foot shape just doesn't mesh with their shoe. I've always found Adidas to be quite comfortable though. I wonder what these Adidaboks are gonne feel like. I think I'll stick with my trusted Nikes. They have always, always been good to me. In fact I had a little merger with them myself not to long ago. I decided to adopt their motto, "Just Do It". I'm a pretty punctual person but my motivation comes and goes with the wind. I have been known to procrastinate because of my wavering motivation. Some jobs just seem so big. Like a couple months ago I wanted to get my son's room painted but it just seemed so, well...impossible. I just did it and it wasn't so bad. And I really felt accomplished and dug the end result. Now when there is aomething to be done, I say to myself, "Just Do it". And I do because I realize that it's not going to be as bad as I anticipate and it will feel so good to just get it done. Hopefully though, the next time I want to put a gun to my head I'll just wear the Nikes.

Annie's Mailbox

2005-06-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

Today in Annie's mailbox there were responses to people who make their oh so witty comments to people about the number of kids they have. Being the mother of four children I have had my fair share of these comments come flying at me when I've least expected them, kinda like the black blur that came flying through the air and hit my windshield on the freeway the other day. I remember when I was pregnant with my fourth, I was walking downtown and these two men walked by me and one of them nonchalantly said in passing,
"You're right, three is not nearly enough, you should have another." I responded, as tears rolled dow my cheeks, that they weren't all mine but that my brother had died a few months ago and I was in the process of adopting his children. I wanted him to feel like the twit he was so he might think twice about opening his big fat ignorant mouth (thus saving another poor emotional pregnant woman from his ugly spew). Ok, so I really didn't answer him outloud. It was one of those times when you think of the good response too late. I won't say how I actually responded.
I've had people ask if I know what's causing it yet and I usually give the same reply,
"Yes, we finally bought a TV."
The following are some of my favorite responses from Annie's mailbox. I am writing them down because they are hilarious and because I will remember them better, having written them down. Next time maybe I won't have the unfortunate delay in my response time.

My mother said she had so many kids because of her poor hearing. Whenever my parents would retire for the night, my dad would ask, "So, do you want to go to sleep, or what?" and mom would always answer, "What?"

"Thanks, we're just trying to raise the world's average IQ."

When asked if we know what's causing this, "I'm pretty sure it has something to do with sneezing. Every time I sneeze, someone says "God bless you,' and he does-again."

And my favorite...when asked if we are going to have anymore kids, "Who knows? We're only halfway through the Kama Sutra."

Of course, I really am done having kids but it will be fun to see their reaction anyway.

Dear Mr. Media

2005-06-03T13:44:00.000-07:00

The other day my husband called me while, after working all night, he was doing hospital (babysitting) detail. This was around 1:00 in the afternoon. While watching prisoners shackled to a hospital bed, "babysitters" are not allowed to leave which often times leads to near starvation. He called to see if I would bring him something to eat. When I arrived with a chicken salad sandwhich and cherries and carrots stuffed into Chad's Sunday school paper bag, another officer had just arrived to take his place. Apparently when looking for "babysitters", only the last out of 50 are home and answer the phone.
So here is my husband, finally being relieved after working for 18 hours, and he says goodbye to the sick prisoner. The words that came out of the prisoner's mouth made me swell with love and admiration for my dh. He said,
"Hey, thanks for treating me with respect." Dh followed with,
"No problem, I hope they find out what's wrong."
I thought about how irritated he probably was when another officer didn't show to relieve him on time. I thought about how his hunger and sleep deprivation probably added to this irritation. And yet he could still show respect and dignity to a prisoner...another human being who just made some bad choices.
You will never read about things like this in the paper or see it on the news. The media is too busy pointing out the "bad" cops. So Mr. Media, please forgive me for not having the same respect for you as my husband can show a shackled prisoner.

She's one in a million

2005-05-15T14:33:00.000-07:00

I will resist the urge to complain today...to talk about how apathetic I feel and how I just want to tell the world to go to hell. People suck.

On a good note, Amanda competed in the California state spelling bee yesterday and placed fourth! The numbers tell me something about my daughter (like I didn't already know). There are approximately 1,247,342 fourth, fifth and sixth graders in the state of California. At her school level she placed first out of about 25 students and went on to the county bee. There she placed first out of 42 first place school winners. At the state bee she placed fourth out of 56 first and second place winners of their respective counties. The numbers tell me that my daughter is one in a million (and that she can spell better than me)!
Here are some of the words that got her to where she is:
diminution
quixotic
superintendent
zoomorphic
xylose
hieroglyphics
xebec
ingenuous
onomatopoeia
hachures
oscillate
imperceptible
pruritic
vichyssoise
cavalcade
vinaigrette
catachresis
entourage
entrepeneur
cetacean
reconnaissance
recalescence
and the word that put her in 4th place....
malfeasance
She had never heard the word but gave it her best shot anyway and came really close, (malfeasants) closer than I would have which is why this whole experience, including helping her prepare, was a great spelling lesson for mom.

You win some, You lose some

2005-05-10T19:35:00.000-07:00

It seems obvious that to gain something, you must lose something. If you buy a new shirt, you lose money. If you gain money, you must lose time. If you get a cut, you lose blood.
If you acquire a cow, you lose grass. If you lose hair to a bad haircut, you gain a really long two week wait. You get the idea.
When my last son was born and my husband got more involved in his care than he had with the others, I gained some freedom. I think he realized, maybe because of the 5 1/2 year gap between the last two, that the kids are little for a really short time. Opportunity for special bonding at certain stages of their development will never present themselves again. His infancy was filled with demands that I was not equipped to handle alone. So as my husband stepped up to the plate I gained a freedom that I had only tasted with the other three. I was going to school so I was away quite often.
We have been trying to get the little guy to pee-pee in the potty for a while now. Hubby told him a couple weeks ago that he would buy him a BIG candybar at the store when he "used" his potty. So last night I'm on my way to my softball game (my most enjoyed freedom) and I get a call from him telling me I needed to make a stop for a candybar. I said, "He did not!" Yes, he did...there at home...with dad...in my a. b. s. e. n. c e. It was then that I realized that when I gained this liberty to have a piece of my own pie, I lost out on many of his "firsts". I recalled that he had also rolled over for the first time with only his dad to witness it. I think they have some secret understanding that when mom leaves, he is to do something new...something he has never done before. Oh well, this turned out to be a gain-gain situation as I can always see him pee again. I gained a little independance and DH gained the opportunity to bond in a way that he otherwise wouldn't have.

Wrenches and Neurons

2005-05-10T19:04:00.000-07:00

I think I have found the truth in the saying, "An idle mind is the devil's workshop". My mind is not idle in the sense that I am not a thinker (quite the contrary actually). My problem is a lack of intellectual stimulation. If I have nothing meaningful to think about, the devil must slither his way through my blood-brain barrier (tight junctions that protect the brain cells from harmful substances and pathogens from passing from the blood into the brain) and unload his toolbox with an evil grin on his face. I can see him now, safety goggles on, armed with a hammer and wrench, switching the axons with the dendrites and chipping away at my myelin sheath. Somebody please throw me back into a classroom before my integrative functioning is beyond repair because we all know that neurogenesis is virtually non-existent.

Beaming with Pride

2005-03-24T10:04:00.000-08:00

Having kids allows us to sometimes feel like a kid again. Last night Amanda competed in the county spelling bee against 42 other individual school winners. She finished in first place. I felt some of what she was feeling. I sat in the audience with sweaty palms and a racing heart. I couldn't help it. I am so proud of her, but even if she had finished in 43rd place I would be just as proud. I am proud of her for being the wonderful, responsible, determined girl that she is. When she does something, she gives it all she has, and that is all I ever ask of her...that she does her best, regardless of the outcome. She now goes on to compete in the state spelling bee. I think I'll take a valium before that one.
While I'm at it, I'll brag some more. It's a right I was granted while giving birth to my first child. I just got their report cards for the second reporting period. All three of them are on honor roll. Although they don't recognize honor roll in the second grade Nick got all 4's (equivalent of an A) and E's. His teacher tells me he is the top reader in his class. I will be at the awards assembly next week with my bells and whistles, oh, and my camera (which I forgot last night at the spelling bee). Unfortunately I think I exchanged some memory cells for that right to brag.

NOTE TO SELF

2005-02-22T21:54:00.000-08:00

Why can't you make a decision?
I really want to know why...
you can't make up your mind
and procrastinataion is your cry.

Why can't you let the baggage go?
God you make me sick.
Just fix the contradictions.
Is your skull that fuckin thick?

Obviousely somethings calling you
other than the tree on the side of the lane.
tell me now which you will choose
to rid you of your pain.

What exactly do you fear?
That you will fail to overcome
the misconceptions deep within?
Or to addictions you'll succumb?

Do you fear that you won't be transformed
as quickly as you'd like?
That you don't posess the patience?
Get off the sympathy strike.

Quit expecting a quick fix
or to live in constant euphoria.
It's a process, always changing
just like a phantasmagoria.

You can't expect, now listen up!
to have constant spiritual orgasm.
By expecting feelings not to fade
you will kill it...your enthusiasm.

Heed the words you read this week.
First comes the softened heart.
Only then will your mind be renewed
so that fallacies can depart.

Don't give into the lie that you shoud put it off
that today is not the day.
One day there will be no tommorow
...you'll lose to this Russian Roulette.

Dream or message?

2005-02-17T12:43:00.000-08:00

This is what I dreamt last night:

I was sitting in church and as David led the worship it seeed as though the presence of God overcame a woman sitting towards the front...so much so that she could not contain herself. She raised her hands and started praying out loud which is not the norm at my church. David said, "I normally don't do this but will you come up front here?" As she did many others followed. The love of God seemed to be surrounding them. I remained in my seat as did some others. Suddenly a few people got up and ran out the door as if there was an emergency they needed to tend to. I looked over at the door and there was a pride of lions circling outside. I ran to another door to lock it before they tried to get in there, but there was a lion already there. There was panic among the people still in their seats but the people who had gone up front seemed unaffected by the commotion. Somehow somebody tried to coerce the lions to an underground room as I escaped out a window. As I was climbing out, I turned to see my 2 year old son.

I'm not sure if this scripture came to me in the dream or the second I woke up but there it was in my head:

Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)

Eric Carle...Revised

2005-02-16T13:09:00.000-08:00

My version of The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle

In the light of the moon a tormented caterpillar lay on her bed.

One Tuesday morning the computer warmed up and there sat the hungry caterpillar. She e-mailed her pastor and he told her to think about what grace really means and that while she felt she had no faith, she did. But she was still hungry.

On Wednessday a friend told her she was at the book store and felt she needed to get the book that lay in front of her and send it to the caterpillar (The God you're Looking For by Bill Hybels). But she was still hungry.

On Thursday she turned on the radio to a Christian station (a miracle in itself) and this is the song that was on:

Back in His Arms Again
by Mark Schultz

I see it in your eyes
The pain you keep inside
It's slowly tearing you apart
Though you've run away
Reminded day by day
You've stumbled and you've fallen
Still He's callin'

Chorus:

I believe that he loves you where you are
I believe that you've seen the hands of God
I believe that you'll know it when
You're back in His arms again
I believe that He never let you go
I believe that He's wanting you to know
I believe that He'll lead you 'til
You're back in his arms again.

Glad I found you here
'Cause in between the tears
Something in your eyes shows hope
And I stand before you now
As one that knows about
Coming to Him open
And broken

And I know that He's calling
He's calling you Home

Chorus

One Life, one love, one way, Home (x4)
And when you rise and when you fall
He will see you through it all
He is waiting you are called, back in His arms again

But she was still hungry.

On Friday she turned on that station again and this is the song that was on:

Hold me Jesus

Well, sometimes my life
Just don't make sense at all
When the mountains look so big
And my faith just seems so small

CHORUS:
So hold me Jesus, 'cause I'm shaking like a leaf
You have been King of my glory
Won't You be my Prince of Peace

And I wake up in the night and feel the dark
It's so hot inside my soul
I swear there must be blisters on my heart

CHORUS

Surrender don't come natural to me
I'd rather fight You for something
I don't really want
Than to take what You give that I need
And I've beat my head against so many walls
Now I'm falling down, I'm falling on my knees

And this Salvation Army band
Is playing this hymn
And Your grace rings out so deep
It makes my resistance seem so thin

But she was still hungry.

On Saturday she was told that someone who didn't know her pain was praying for her. Eat through that.
She was sent this... The rope...by a clueless friend. Chew on that.
Another Friend sent an e-amil of concern and love.

On Sunday God used another person, standing in the doorway of church, to wrap his arms around her.

That night she had a very bad stomach ache.

Stay tuned to see if the caterpillar finds the green leaf, builds a cocoon, and well, you know the rest of the story.

What happened?

2005-02-14T13:04:00.000-08:00

I remember once when I was about 14 years old I went out with some friends after church to an ice cream shop. When our waitress came over to take our order, she began to stutter. Every word that came out of her mouth did so with great hesitaion. To see her suffer bothered me deep in my soul. I could not contain my sympathy or the few tears that escaped my eyes. My youth pastor's wife met me outside and told me she noticed and that she had been the same way when she was younger. She said that I had a soft heart and compassion for people and that God could use that. She also told me NEVER to lose it. Well, I did. What happened? When and how did my heart become so hard?

Fatal orgasm

2005-01-26T13:45:00.000-08:00

Somebody please untie my hands.
I can't reach the knot that binds.
Take the tape off my mouth
to make audible my silent cries.

I long for distraction.
I long for someone to understand.
I long for a different kind of pain.
These wounds won't heal, I'm bleeding out.

Who's the enemy of my soul?
Who took away my hope?
Who planted the seed of darkness
and covered me in the dirt?

Come lay with me in my bed
and I'll show you how the end will come.
Fantasy takes place of rational thoughts
and I find a final escape.

On one hand I feel pleasure.
In the other I hold cold steel.
Such are the contradictions of my mind
that make me ache in solitaire.

I feel it coming, it's building now.
I bring my hand to my head.
Finally peace in slow motion
overtakes my body and soul.

One finger moves fast.
The other slips onto the trigger.
Wait for pleasure.
Release in unison.

Questions I have

2004-12-13T13:53:00.000-08:00

If hiccups are a spasm of the diaphram, why do they sound in your throat?

Why are straws individually wrapped but coffee stirrers are not?

If blasphemy is the only unpardonable sin, why are people who commit suicide destined to hell? Or are they?

Ouch

2004-12-06T13:21:00.000-08:00

There is nothing like a funeral to slap you across the face with your own mortality.
And then there is the hymn, All is well With My Soul. The organist played an instrumental, but the words were in my head as if up on the projector.
I am an emotional wimp. I cried so much that I couldn't even comfort my daughters.
Fuck.
All is not well with my soul.

Pogo Stick Emotions

2004-12-03T13:54:00.000-08:00

Did you ever play with a Pogo Stick when you were a kid? You could be up and down several times in a matter of a minute. So it is with your emotions when you have kids. You know, kinda like you can be fuming with anger over something they did and then they make you laugh. I wonder how our body is affected by this abrupt change in chemicals. It's kind of like someone offering me a Starbuck's Peppermint Mocha and then swiftly taking it away.
I was reading the paper this morning when the obituaries that I have been waiting for (no, I am not a psycho. I want to know when the funeral is) pop out of the page at me. My heart starts pounding and I am overcome with sadness as I read how this wonderful little boy was taken out of this world too soon. The words begin to blur as my eyes fill with tears.
"Mom, look", my daughter says as she pulls her shirt snugly around her chest, trying to get me to agree that she is ready to wear a bra. I chuckle inside. My sadness that so abruptly overtook me is whisked away as I am briefly delighted at this attempt to grow up.
I continue to read his mother's notice as I sip my coffee and tears fall again. Bounce down. Bounce up. Bounce down. I fold the paper with the obituaries out because I am sure Amanda will want to see it. I pull myself together to take the kids to school.
"Nick, go get your sho...NICK! Stop that". OMG, he is trying to transfer the image of the woman's face onto his Silly Putty! Now I'm really confused at what to feel. I think I got upset and then chuckled at his innocence all in a matter of a nanosecond.
Please, somebody get me a Peppermint Mocha.

Empty Bottle

2004-12-01T13:44:00.000-08:00

I don't feel like writing today. I found out after I wrote last that the boy's mother was killed too. I am glad that she does not have to deal with the loss of a child but oh how much harder it is on her husband who was left with a four month old baby.
I feel empty...no emotional energy left to write.
I don't want to talk about death.
I don't want to talk about how my mom says I am different lately...how there seems to be a gap between us.
I don't want to talk about how she is consumed with an irrational fear that her grandkids are not treated with the best of care.
I don't want to talk about how I feel.
I am angry.
My bottle is empty.

Why?

2004-11-29T19:11:00.000-08:00

My daugter came home today from school and told me that one of her classmates was killed in an accident over the weekend. I can't describe my emotions. They live right down the street from us, although I don't know exactly where. I play softball on the same league as his mother. I talked to this kid on Halloween night. He stood behind us in one of the lines downtown and we had a conversation. And it is hard to fathom that he is gone now, his life stolen without warning. How completely unfair. I think about what his mother must be going through. My heart aches because it is unfair that his best friend has to deal with death so young. Amanda wants to go to his funeral. I will take her. What a sombering slap in the face that life is taken away in a split second and does not give preference to age.

2004-11-28T19:08:00.000-08:00

Will God meet me where I am
as many times I'm told?
Or will I be left feeing alone
like the homeless in the cold?

Each cry that goes unanswered
leaves a scar upon the heart.
Each scar begs to ask the question,
Where was God when I did my part?

The will to try is burried now
beneath the scars in my soul.
I'm void of motivation
where apathy now takes control.

What have you done for God? you ask
Is it fair that I place blame?
Well yes, I've given myself many times
and the outcome has been the same.

I rode my bike over 300 miles
to spread the "Light for the Lost"
I went on a Mission to Mexico
without a second thought to the cost.

I played the drums in the youth worship band.
I've cried out for one little sign.
I've quieted myself behind the walls of my room
but an answer I was denied.

Was my heart right when I did those things?
I guess I'll never know.
For the scars that have hardened it from within
leave no room for it to grow.

Retaining Wall

2004-11-22T13:26:00.000-08:00

We have been building a retaining wall around our property. I'm not sure how my husband knows how to do so many things, but he does. This particular retaining wall is only meant to be about four feet high at the most because it is the dirt on the other side of it that actually holds it in place. You start with a layer of sand and pound the bottom layer of stone into it with a rubber mallet. Then you build it up to about four feet. The top layer should then be mounted down with some construction adhesive to keep latch key juveniles, whose mothers didn't teach them to keep their hands off things that didn't belong to them, from interrupting your wall in any way. The side inside your property line should then be filled with dirt, the substance that, really, determines how the wall will hold up.

We all have a personal retaining wall. Some are about the right height, allowing things in and out as appropriate. My wall is much, much higher than what is considered safe. If we had built our wall any higher than four feet, the dirt behind it would not serve it's purpose and the wall would come tumbling down. The bottom layers of dirt are compacted the most. They are the layers of who I am. When I was yet too young to make decisions for myself, they were being laid, until they eventually became who I was at the core. I don't know if anything will ever change that, except death. Sure, I could try to unstick the adhesive on the top row of stones and then gently take off one brick at a time, ocassionally shoveling out the dirt from behind it until I eventually had to start over again. I don't think I have the knowledge, motivation or strength within me. I am not sure there is a product on the martket that will dissolve the adhesive that binds apathy to anger. I suppose sooner or later the wall will succumb to the pressure of the substance behind it and it will crumble. Will I have to hit the very bottom to come back up?

Some like to argue in the old nurture vs. nature debate. I know that there really is nothing to debate. You can't even say that one weighs heavier than the other in all cases. It is NOT black and white. It's like a chemical reaction. You can have one chemical that reacts very strongly with another but yet won't react with a third. So it is with nature and nurture...the combination determines the outcome. My dirt is completely different from yours. Yet if only one of mine (genetic make-up and predispositions or environment) had been different, the components of my soil would be completely distinctive still.

2004-11-22T13:24:00.000-08:00

There was an article in my local paper today from the Associated Press about Billy Graham wrapping up what is his last crusade. They quoted him as saying, to the crowd of nearly 92,000 people, "Many of you have a Christian heritage, grew up in a Christian home, but you have this other pull of the sins of the world. Are you really happy?" This caught my eye for a couple of reasons. First...why did they include this particular quote? It was not pertinent in any way to the article, at least not that I could see. The other reason is because it made me stop and think that maybe it's not just me, but actually a common scenario for people of my generation.

I know I probably put to much blame on the philosophies of the church in which I was brought up. But this raises a question for me. Was it the particular church or was it just more the accepted philosophy of my generation? Are things just different now and I'm having a hard time crossing over or even deciphering what is really true? If it is more of a universal dilemma, as I would assume if he felt the need to address a crowd of 92,000 people this way, then the pull of the sins of the world is understandably so.

When you are brought up under a very fundamentalist view, the picture of how you think you ought to live becomes unattainable. Yet the leaders make it seem as though they have it under control. The perfectionism, the emphasis on condemnation, the appearances of false pretenses, and the sweeping under the rug of any problems, are all layers in my soil. No wonder the pull of the sins of the world are so enticing. Christianity was made to be boring. If something is unattainable, the motivation to try it burns up like a paper plate in a fire.

I remember a man who came to my childhood church who was on a mission to prove the evils of Christian "rock" bands. Does Stryper ring a bell? This attitude about sums it up for me. It makes my blood boil. Who in their right mind wouldn't be thankful for something like this. If your teenager likes a certain style of music wouldn't it be better that he had uplifting words to it? No wonder so many (me) were turned off. THAT kind of thing made Christianity boring. There has to be functional crossover. We don't eat Jesus pie (ok maybe shepherd's pie), we don't drive Lord's Land Rovers or Almighty Accords. We live on earth, we have preferences. How is it that churches let this guy in. SATAN IS TAKING OVER THE YOUTH through music!!! What the fuck? I better go get my shovel.

2004-11-19T13:08:00.000-08:00

I think I'm going crazy. I think it is because I am bored out of my mind. I don't like being a stay-at-home mom. It's not because I'm selfish, it's just my personality. My mind needs stimulation. I need to be busy. When I have nothing to keep me busy, I get bored and unmotivated. When I get bored and unmotivated I tend to get myself into trouble. I guess I'm like a kid in that respect. I have a need to feel like I am doing something meaningful. I know raising kids is meaningful, really, logically I do. But I can only do so much cleaning, running errands, showing where the poo-poo goes and directing of where the puzzle piece belongs before I become depressed for lack of stimulation. Last night I turned over and cried in bed. I don't cry very often and I don't even really now what the hell made me cry. He asked, "You are crying?" I lied, "No." He replied, "You sound like you have that gurgly sound in your nose." Well of course, the gurgly nose is what happens when you try to cry so no one can hear. I lay there sobbing silently until the area behind my nose ached like a sore thumb. The pressure continued to build until I had a headache.

I can last nine more months.
I can last nine more months.
I can last nine more months.

Goodbye Friend

2004-11-15T13:45:00.000-08:00

I went to a goodbye party for my friend this weekend. Seems everytime I make a good friend they move away. I met her in a chemistry class in 2002. Now the Army is sending her to X-ray tech school. I am happy for her but sad that she won't be coming back. Another friend threw the party and we ended up going out dancing afterwards.

I don't meet friends like her too often. This is how it always is...with these kinds of friends that always seem to move away. These are the kind of friends that you feel comfortable talking about anything with. Friends who laugh and joke about sex, losers, masturbation and asshole professors who teach microbiology. These are the friends that, on the other hand, can talk about things that could make you cry. These are friends that care more about you, outside throwing up at 2:00 in the morning (from the raw meat you ate at dinner of course), than finishing their breakfast at IHop. These are the kind of friends that keep me going. No wonder I don't fit in with those others I talked about in a previous post.

Good Luck, Daneen. I will miss you!

2004-11-15T13:25:00.000-08:00

You know how us Catholic girls can be
We make up for so much time a little too late
I never forgot it, confusing as it was
No fun with no guilt feelings
The sinners, the saviors, the loverless priests
I'll see you next Sunday

CHORUS:
We all had our reasons to be there
We all had a thing or two to learn
We all needed something to cling to
So we did

I sang Alleluia in the choir
I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man
My brothers they never went blind for what they did
But I may as well have
In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son
I had one more stupid question

REPEAT CHORUS

What I learned I rejected but I believe again
I will suffer the consequence of this inquisition
If I jump in this fountain, will I be forgiven

REPEAT CHORUS

We all had delusions in our head
We all had our minds made up for us
We had to believe in something
So we did

-Alanis Morrisette

Church

2004-11-14T20:31:00.000-08:00

I was sitting at church today and thinking about how much I absolutely do not fit in with "church women". How does one grow up in church and yet be so completely different from church people, so much so that the thought of church people is sometimes nauseating? Perhaps I just misinterpret church people because of a screwed up view. Sometimes I hate that I grew up in church. I wonder if it woud have been easier to have had a hard life, filled with heartache and pain and then have some life changing experience when introduced to God. Instead I have a warped view ingrained so deeply within me, that it has become part of who I am. I cannot get rid of it. Logic does not override the misconceptions within. I can't write anymore.

Bumper stickers

2004-11-12T14:09:00.000-08:00

I have a hate for bumper stickers, symbols, etc. that have, "I am a christian" written all over them. If ever I want to roll my eyes, it is when I see this. Not because I have anything against christians. Why the need for an announcement? They might as well get a stamp in the middle of their forehead that says, "Watch me very carefully, and you will see me do something wrong."

Origins of Homosexuality

2004-10-24T16:04:00.000-07:00

I have not decided how I feel about this. I used to accept the thinking that I was brought up with...that it was a choice. After college I began to question it.

I recently heard the point that if it was genetically based, then that gene would have surely been eliminated from the gene pool over the last 5000 years. Obviosely it isn't conducive to reproduction.

If it is genetic then why, when one identical twin is gay, only about fifty percent of the time, the other is too? Is this the case with any inherited diseases, leaving the question of other environmental factors on predisposition?

I do not think that I feel it is completely a choice. Is it a phsycological response to some unfortunate environment? Does a mother and father play a vital role? If childhood experiences do play a vital role in veering a person toward homosexuality, then it is, in a way, part of who they are.

Is it in their genes? I don't think I buy that either. If it is not in the genes but the predespostion is still there I wonder if it has anything to do with the prenatal hormones.

What about a hermaphrodite? If I remember right this is the result of the absence or presence of the wrong amount of testosterone, prenatally. What about the fact that this hormone plays a role in the differentiation of the fetal male and female brain. Could the amount of a hormone be the reason for homosexual predisposition making it indeed present before birth without it being an inherited gene? And how much do environmental factors weigh in on the bringing about of this predisposition?

Thin Skinned

2004-10-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

So it is true that males are thicker skinned than females. No, literally. I helped my DH dig ditches in our yard all day on Saturday. And then as if it weren't enough that my fragile woman hands were almost raw, I loaded and took about 10 wheelbarrow loads of top soil around the other side of the house on Sunday. What was I thinking? Men have physiologically different skin for a reason! I literally crashed into bed both nights, only to have my sore hands make their way into my dreams...

I'm in my childhood home, on the computer, by the back sliding glass door. It is nighttime and I am trying to IM with Melodee. Everytime I try to type something, I don't hit the right keys and I get more frustrated as the minutes go by. I am supposed to leave in a few minutes to take a test for Missionettes. I keep thinking I hear something in the back yard and I realize someone is back there and is on their way in so I grab Chad and take off out the front door screaming.

I should know better that to lay there "just a couple more minutes". I woke up this morning about 6:15 and figured I would just lay there for a little bit until I had to get up at 6:45. Of course I fell back asleep, thinking about how sore my hands were and I have a dream that I can't even type. That would truly be horrible. I think I will wrap them in a topical anesthetic today and shove that shovel up his thick skinned.... nevermind.

Freudian Hayday

2004-09-30T16:02:00.000-07:00

I had a really strange dream last night, which isn't so unusual for me. I have always had very vivid dreams. Maybe this one bothered me because, well, it doesn't take a Freudian Scholar to figure out some of the meaning. Maybe I should start a dream journal.

I was riding in a bus with some church people and for some reason I new we were going to crash. We went off a cliff and I new I was going to die but I didn't panic, my life didn't flash before my eyes, and I didn't feel the intense anxiety of impending death. I simply said a prayer asking God to save my soul. When we landed we floated down to a beautiful grassy field. Next thing you know I am in an indoor swimming pool for a church service. People from my church are there and my pastor is in an old fashion bathtub in the pool. Pretty soon the children's pastor and music pastor join him and they start floating around the pool to find people who want to get in the tub. They are coming towards me. Oh no, please not me. My clothes have come off and floated away from me. The pastoral tub is right next to me, they are inviting me to get in. I panic. I don't care if everybody sees me naked but I dread them finding out I have implants.

Next thing you know I am in the bathroom and this brown stuff is coming out of my mouth. I am not throwing up and at times I even have to put my hand in my mouth and tug at it because it is stck in my throat. Someone is trying to speak to me but I can't answer. I dislodge the brown gunk and more flows out. It just keeps coming out and never does stop.

Frustration

2004-09-11T16:01:00.000-07:00

Ok, that last entry sounded a little extreme, reading it now. That must have been a really bad day. Maybe it was a day that my chemical imbalance was at it's worst. Well, assuming I have one. I have felt pretty happy lately with the exception of a couple frustrating incidents.

First of all trying to rent out a house can be very frustrating and expensive when you are screwed by idiots that will probably never get anywhere in life. It is frustrating to work hard in your life to improve it, only to be duped by people who can't get their life together. Something is wrong when people in their 30's and 50's can't manage their money.

Secondly, it is very frustrating to be so completely misunderstood and misinterpreted by someone who is so caught up in their own misinterpretation that they fail to see that they are doing it to others. Add to that someone who is adamently against even trying to understand someone's side that they just argue, turn things around and put the other person down to make themselves feel better. Trying to make them understand would be like teaching a 2 year old why he can't put screws in an electrical outlet. He only has his own desires and agenda's for exploring. When he finally breaks down and realizes that I won't give in and he can't have his way, he will throw himself a pity party and walk away. One thing he won't do though, is claim to know my reasons for things, or my feelings, as this person who misunderstands me. I would like to try to explain myself but it would be like nailing one foot to the floor and trying to walk a mile..and frankly, that would make me very, very tired.

Prey

2004-07-20T16:00:00.000-07:00

I've often compared my life to that of a fly caught in a spider's web... a struggle. At times I haven't even realized it but I have been in an emotional struggle to find true happiness. I wonder if it actually does exist for some people. The fly's incessant buzz of desperation finally gives way to periods of rest. I wonder if for a brief period the fly is giving up until the will to survive resumes and it fights to free itself until exhaustion forces another round of silence. I feel as if I have lost my volition to struggle. Desperation is becomming replaced by apathy. I merely just exist and wait for the end as a fly who grows too tired to fight the grip of the web. I wonder if the fly ever completely surrenders to it's destiny or if it struggles to the end.

Stupid Questions

2004-07-13T16:00:00.000-07:00

I cannot tell you how sick I am of hearing the question, "How do you like your new house?". I mean come on, if I didn't like it would I have bought it in the first place? I will have to come up with a response, as the "fine" I have been using is always followed by a blank stare. Maybe they are blanking out because they realize what a stupid question it is.
Maybe I'll start saying, "It really sucks..if only we had known it was going to be so ugly before we had it built."

Black Anus

2004-06-10T15:59:00.000-07:00

I got an e-mail today saying if I did not write in my blog it would be deleted. It's a amazing what a little incentive will do to force me to take a few minutes to write. I always tell myself I don't have time. I can't think of anything interesting to write about so I will write about how I am feeling, which is PO'ed!

A few weeks ago I got a gift card for Black Angus restaurant from Mypoints.com as a reward for visiting websites. My husband and I had my mom watch the kids so we could go enjoy a nice dinner there. Mind you, we wouldn't have gone there if I didn't have the gift card. Ok, so we go to use the card when the check comes and the waiter comes back saying he ran it through, his manager ran it through, and the balance on the card was $0. It's not like I could really argue with him. I figured there had been some mistake and I would figure it out later.

I contacted Mypoints.com and they called the Black Angus Giftcard number and according to their records the $25 had been spent on that same night we were there. I am pissed. I was ripped off and I am really pissed.

Switching Gears

2004-03-26T15:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight could last forever and I wouldn't care. When I was growing up my brother used to tell me that on my birthday my age would start going in reverse. Oh, how that annoyed me! Now, I am adopting that very theory...tommorrow I shall turn 29. :-)

The saying goes, "You're only as old as ya feel." I love that saying but in all reality, I feel old. How could having 4 kids that run you ragged, not make you old? I should feel lucky, while my hair is thinning...it's not gray. While my skin now resembles leather...my wrinkles show character. And my brain, I don't even want to talk about my brain. I lost a piece of it with each birth...but it was replaced with a new heart, one for each child. I'm determined to put my brain on a regime that includes neurocardio 3 times a week so when the little brainsuckers are grown and the time comes for me to pop this baby back in first gear, I'll still know how.

Organs on a Revolving Door

2004-03-22T15:58:00.000-08:00

I went to church today as I do every Sunday. I sat there in church thinking about something that I came across this week. It was the mention of being moved to change on the basis of emotion. I didn't know anybody ever thought of experiences with God this way but it is a question I contemplate often. When people say they "feel" God, could it be just an emotional experience, one brought about because of being in a group of people, perhaps a familiar song? I had this type of experience as child. But thinking back, was it just the environment that made me feel so close to God? I came home and went up to the altar at church and the feeling just wasn't there. God did not meet me there as he did at camp. If God is God then wouldn't he be the same at my home church or in my bedroom that he is at summer camp? Or was it indeed the environment, the emotional surrounding at the time?

I distance myself because I don't want to change based on an emotional experience I feel at the time. I want it to be real or I don't want it. I grew up in church and so much of what I know in my brain, I do not feel in my heart. I knew, at one time, The Ten Commandments like the back of my hand. I could recite the books of the bible. I knew 1 Corinthians 13 by heart. I know the bible says, "Come as you are." My heart does not interpret this the way my brain tells it to. My heart, the inner core of what I believe is warped simply based on my upbringing. My brain says, "Come as you are". My heart says, "This doesn't apply to you. You know better than to do the things you do. You keep your distance until you can get your act together. "

For now, I go to church. It is important to me that my kids get that chance, the chance for an upbringing that will hopefully be conducive to their brain and heart having a symbiotic relationship. A relationship in which one reinforces and cooperates with the other. I don't want them to think that they have to be perfect, that any mistake they make might jeapardize their eternal salvation. I want them to know the line between making mistakes and being a "backslider"...if, in fact, there is one, something I haven't yet figured out because of the relationship my brain has with my heart... a relationship like that of two people on a revolving door. I wonder if one will ever meet the other.

Reflections

2004-03-16T15:57:00.000-08:00

I took Chad to another follow-up with the developmental pediatrician yesterday in Sacramento.....another 2 hour round trip. I began to reflect on the last 18 months of my life. Chad has brought many changes to our lives. He has changed me for the better.

I have become more, I don't know, emotional I guess you could say. I can't watch, A Baby Story, without my eyes tearing up or feeling a lump ascend from the middle of my chest and settle in my throat. Songs now have the power to bring me to tears. I used to be a non-crier because after all, "the movie isn't real." Now they move me to tears and lumpiness, only because they cause me to reflect. Words of songs and story lines of movies allow me to parallel with my own situation. Kenney Chesneymust have been born with this purpose. Here I was driving to this appointment, thinking about Chad and all the emotions of the past year and a half... fear, depression, relief, guilt, acceptance. The song, There Goes my Life reiterated some of these emotions:

All he could see were his dreams going up in smoke
So much for ditching this town
hanging out on the coast
Oh, well those plans are long gone

There goes my life
There goes my future, my everything
Might as well kiss it all goodbye
There goes my life

I could really relate to this. This is some of the way I felt when I found out I was pregnant. This wasn't in the plans. How would I finish school? I again felt this way, later when I knew something was wrong. The realization that my schooling of the last five years might have been wasted because he might need me for the rest of his life was more than I could bear at the time. Selfish, yes, but also honest. The despair and grief was real to me.

Couple years of up all night
and a couple thousand diapers later
That mistake he thought he'd made
covers up the refrigerator Oh, yeah
He loves that little girl

Mama's waiting to tuck her in
as she fumbles up those stairs
She smiles back at him
dragging that teddy bear
sweet dreams, blue eyes and bouncy curls
There goes my life...

Ok, so it was more like 11 months of up all night for me. Now I reflect on the higher purpose. The fact that I saw it, initially, as an accident and yet God gave him to us for a reason. I know part of that reason was to change me. I've slowed down. I've realized what is important in life. I have become more accepting of other people and their differences. Songs, movies, books, they all serve to remind me of these things in one way or another. Now I look at him and I think, there goes my life, there goes my future, my everything...the person I wouldn't be without him. He brought the changes in me.

She had the Honda loaded down
with Abercrombie clothes
fifteen pairs of shoes
and his American Express

He checked the oil
slammed the hood
said your good to go
She hugged them both
headed off to the west coast
He cried, there goes my life
there goes my future, my everything
I love you
Baby, good bye.

I've slowed down. I've accepted my kids differences and learned to enjoy them, NOW. It will be all to soon before they are taking off, their life with me over. I have to make the best effort I can to help them be the people that they need to become. They are my future, the future, an extension of me. Chad isn't an accident or, as sometimes reffered, a surprise. I now refer to him as an added bonus for I certainly got more than I bargained for.

Designated Thinker

2004-03-16T15:53:00.000-08:00

I never knew what people meant when they said, "I don't even have time to think". But today I understand that on a new level. I never realized how true this is for me until today when I did in fact have time to think, REALLY think. Let's back up. When Chad came down with the chicken pox a week and a half ago, I knew I was in for some cabin fever. I don't do well confined to the home, especially confined with four (sometimes 5) needy people. When trying to take care of the needs of half a baseball team you do not, in fact, have time to think to any reasonable degree on a personal level. I seriously think that I do any meaningful "thinking" in my sleep. Since I have no time for it while I am awake my brain processes concepts and ideas at nighttime. Some classes I have taken in the last few years take some serious organization by the brain and I did it in my sleep. When I was taking algebra, I worked math problems all night long. When I took anatomy I organized bones and muscles and parts of them all night long. These days I don't even have time to think of a layout for a scrapbook page. But no fear, I dream about it and wake up with some great ideas!

I had to go north today to pick up a tile saw from my in-laws. I was dreading the 5 hour round trip but it was a blessing in disguise. It was on this trip that I had time to think. I wasn't actually alone but my only passenger slept about 4 1/2 hours of the 5 . He couldn't have held a conversation even if he had been awake, much less argue, make annoying noises, or ask, "how long till we get there mom?" I'm sure he found relief in getting out of the house and letting the sun bake his little pocked head.

I am always amazed by the influence of smell and how it holds more power to bring serenity and to trigger memories, than does music. The sweet smell of freshly blossoming peach trees in an orchard along the freeway reminded me that spring was just around the corner. The smell made me yearn for those warm summer nights. I couldn't keep myself from glancing down the rows of the orchard, first the rows I was approaching and then the rows behind, but at a different angle. No matter what angle from which I looked, the rows were perfect. Oh how I wish my life were like that. I would be lucky just to get my girls' hair parted as straight.

This trip, which I have made many, many times, always triggers the same memories for me to some extent but they are always interrupted by screeching kids in the back. "Mom, he keeps touching me. Mom, I have to go to the bathroom. Mom she wiped a booger on me." I usually smile sarcastically at my husband and then try somehow to escape back to my memory and take in every bit of that smell that I can. Today there were no interruptions and the setting was perfect just as it had been the first time the memory was etched into my mind, now triggered by the familiar smells of Highway 5. The sun was setting, it was warm outside and the smell of alfalfa took me back. There I was riding next to Denton in his Bronco. We were on our way home from what was my first visit to his parent�s home. We weren't dating yet but the car was filled with the anxiousness of impending love. I knew he liked me and he knew I liked him. We shot a nervous glance at each other when he layed his hand on the seat next to me and I put mine in his. I quickly glance back out at the alfalfa fields. It was a fresh smell and will forever remind me of a fresh love. Sweet sixteen.

I got through that memory with no interruptions, except for the stench of cow pies seeping into my nostrils from the nearby cattle farm. This was more like it, much more symbolic of my life than the precise rows in an orchard. Not that my life stinks per say but sometimes the smell just gets to me, as I�m sure it does to the owners of that cattle farm. But there is a prize to be won. Hard work will pay off and I will certainly make a profit after the stench. There is always sensory adaption in the meantime.

I once saw a bumper sticker that said, "Raising kids is like being pecked to death by chickens". After my drive I feel refreshed and feel confident that I can deal with the pecking, "Mom, I had to do my homework at the lot. I don�t like sharing a room with Brooke, she messes with my stuff." Peck, peck, peck. Well, peck you too. It will be better when we get a bigger pen. I smell cow pies. I think of my rewards. I love my clutch of chickens, just not the chicken pox. Until next time when I have time to think, or dream....