well, it's been a week since i've blogged and i blame it one-hundred percent on the olympics. every night i've been home the boys have adamantly insisted that we are planted in front of the continuous coverage until well beyond their usual bedtimes.
i enjoy watching the events just like they do. but the television on for hours continuously is exhausting. i'm so very thankful that it's not our usual lifestyle. i typically cherish my quiet time at night and as it's evaporated into the black box, i've found myself retreating into a daze. a sleepy daze, despite my usually effective nuvigil. a sleepy daze that's blurring my vision all day long.
in the few lucid moments i've found in my sleepy days, er daze, i've been considering the daze. considering it as an escape mechanism. considering it as a retreat. considering it as a barrier. considering it. and though i've wondered before if my sleepiness was an avoidance mechanism, i find this fogginess despite medication a confirmation.
i've also been clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth over the past week. two behaviors i've never done.
over the weekend i found myself on the verge of tears (okay i crossed the verge i admit) over losing things. i can't even quantify the number of things i lost this weekend. and then found. and then lost again.
i'm sure that some sort of hormone swing or lunar phenomenon is partially to blame. i'm sure of it. but since i can't control the moons, i've declined the olympic invitation tonight. after only thirty minutes of nail-biting olympic downhill drama, i sent the boys to bed. even despite luke's aghast cry, 'but mommy, it's the o-limmmm-pics!!!!' and i've closed the door to my bedroom.
every minute that passes in silence, with only the sound of my fingers on the keys, i feel my tension recede. and curiously, though i was yawning uncontrollably an hour ago, i feel my daze retreating.
usually it's words that bring me back to life. words i write. words i read. i've felt myself craving an opportunity to write this week. (i even considered going to the office to do so...a plan aborted after actual contemplation.) and i've got three books that i'm burning to read.
so, i'm writing. and soon i'll be reading. but, i do have to admit, the tv is still on. on mute. and if they ever put the women's figure skating back up, i'll dig the remote out of the couch for it.
d: restoration, quiet restoring words.
b: i know what to do and i'm doing it.
g: the olympics are only two weeks long.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
benefit
benefit of the doubt.
it's a common phrase, frequently used. but i think the full weight of the expression is less frequently considered.
by definition, it admits a doubt. and then, it sets the doubt aside for the moment, and commits to the possibility that it's in error.
truly it's the real life, day-to-day, less-pollyanna, more-heloise, version of glass half-full optimism. and i think it deserves a prominent place in our lives. with children, with coworkers, with friends, with lovers, with family members, even with strangers.
strangers (and maybe some coworkers) aside, because admittedly that's a different proposition, i believe that the people we are closest to deserve the benefit, rather than the handicap, of our doubts.
handicap is the correct antithesis to benefit, isn't it? (my trusty thesaurus says it is.) i think so. because ultimately doubt has the power to handicap, the power to paralyze, the power to destroy, all by itself, without the validation of veracity.
and on the other hand, benefit implies good. literally coming from the root word bene- (latin for well) and closely related to benefaction, benefit is a gift. a gift of kindness. a gift of compassion.
i think it comes naturally to people when they mediate children. certainly i remind my boys of this concept when one bumps into the other, steps on the other's foot, or otherwise maims their brother claiming 'accident!' maybe, maybe not, right? in other words, doubt. but, i say, err on the side of compassion. err on the side of kindness. err on the side of benefit.
after all, doubt can only exist in the absence of understanding and understanding can only exist in the presence of compassion.
d: benefit of the doubt as a rule
b: it is my rule
g: so much benefit in the compassion
it's a common phrase, frequently used. but i think the full weight of the expression is less frequently considered.
by definition, it admits a doubt. and then, it sets the doubt aside for the moment, and commits to the possibility that it's in error.
truly it's the real life, day-to-day, less-pollyanna, more-heloise, version of glass half-full optimism. and i think it deserves a prominent place in our lives. with children, with coworkers, with friends, with lovers, with family members, even with strangers.
strangers (and maybe some coworkers) aside, because admittedly that's a different proposition, i believe that the people we are closest to deserve the benefit, rather than the handicap, of our doubts.
handicap is the correct antithesis to benefit, isn't it? (my trusty thesaurus says it is.) i think so. because ultimately doubt has the power to handicap, the power to paralyze, the power to destroy, all by itself, without the validation of veracity.
and on the other hand, benefit implies good. literally coming from the root word bene- (latin for well) and closely related to benefaction, benefit is a gift. a gift of kindness. a gift of compassion.
i think it comes naturally to people when they mediate children. certainly i remind my boys of this concept when one bumps into the other, steps on the other's foot, or otherwise maims their brother claiming 'accident!' maybe, maybe not, right? in other words, doubt. but, i say, err on the side of compassion. err on the side of kindness. err on the side of benefit.
after all, doubt can only exist in the absence of understanding and understanding can only exist in the presence of compassion.
d: benefit of the doubt as a rule
b: it is my rule
g: so much benefit in the compassion
Monday, February 15, 2010
glum
at least once every couple of days one of the boys will say, 'mommy, you know she can't talk right?' referring to mega. i still expect her to respond to me when i ask her a question. i mean, she's going on 9 months. shouldn't she be talking by now?
sometimes i have the sensation that i've had a conversation with her and she told me something; but then i realize it was all in my imagination. and i have other bizarre thoughts about her too. like i've thought of what i'll do when she's gone, hopefully many, many years from now; and i'm sure it's not quite normal but i'll admit that i've thought her fur would make a lovely stole.
i guess this makes me one of 'those crazy dog people'. or maybe i'm across the line from 'those' people. oh well. i've been called worse.
[sidenote: i find it amusing that the many of the snowboard olympians wear jeans to compete in. every other sport has some fancy athletic wear, but the snowboarders manage to maintain their rebel image, even in the olympics. funny.]
mega had a hard time with our trip to new york. though i left her with capable, loving dog people she had a good bit of separation anxiety. (haley thought it would be me with that issue, but i fared pretty well in the big apple.) when we got home, mega had a touch of a cold. sneezy and runny nosed thing. but today, i took her to the dog park at our local coffee shop and she played with the big dogs. fearlessly. and now it seems that haley is the one with a cold. sneezy and runny nosed thing.
neither of us get sick often and the abrupt halt to our perpetual motion and togetherness, especially on the tail end of our anniversary vacation, has me experiencing the separation anxiety i dodged on that very trip. she's been laid up since yesterday morning, barely moving from the couch to the bed and back again. so much for valentine's day.
d: return to health for my estranged valentine
b: hand-made valentines for my three (human) loves
g: mega is teaching me coping mechanisms for the separation
sometimes i have the sensation that i've had a conversation with her and she told me something; but then i realize it was all in my imagination. and i have other bizarre thoughts about her too. like i've thought of what i'll do when she's gone, hopefully many, many years from now; and i'm sure it's not quite normal but i'll admit that i've thought her fur would make a lovely stole.
i guess this makes me one of 'those crazy dog people'. or maybe i'm across the line from 'those' people. oh well. i've been called worse.
[sidenote: i find it amusing that the many of the snowboard olympians wear jeans to compete in. every other sport has some fancy athletic wear, but the snowboarders manage to maintain their rebel image, even in the olympics. funny.]
mega had a hard time with our trip to new york. though i left her with capable, loving dog people she had a good bit of separation anxiety. (haley thought it would be me with that issue, but i fared pretty well in the big apple.) when we got home, mega had a touch of a cold. sneezy and runny nosed thing. but today, i took her to the dog park at our local coffee shop and she played with the big dogs. fearlessly. and now it seems that haley is the one with a cold. sneezy and runny nosed thing.
neither of us get sick often and the abrupt halt to our perpetual motion and togetherness, especially on the tail end of our anniversary vacation, has me experiencing the separation anxiety i dodged on that very trip. she's been laid up since yesterday morning, barely moving from the couch to the bed and back again. so much for valentine's day.
d: return to health for my estranged valentine
b: hand-made valentines for my three (human) loves
g: mega is teaching me coping mechanisms for the separation
Sunday, February 14, 2010
reprise
at breakfast this morning the boys announced excitedly the release of a 'new' song that i absolutely must come watch the video for. so, after i finished my yogurt i sat down in front of luke's computer to watch a seven minute youtube video of 'we are the world'.
i knew i'd heard a familiar melody coming from behind those french doors as i lingered in bed succumbing to sunday morning sleepiness.
the original 'we are the world' came out in 1985, when i was the boys' ages. eleven to be exact. and i remember listening to it on a 45 single, over and over again. and sitting in front of mtv waiting to see the video; they still played videos in the 80's, pre-reality tv.
i loved the song then as much as the boys do now. as they comb the artists' faces in the video, easily paused and rewinded and replayed at their whim on youtube, i remember doing the same at every opportunity.
but here we are, twenty-five years later, and i wonder if we're moving closer together or further apart as a global community. it's winter olympics time and what a fitting time for the re-release of a song about collaboration, i speculated.
but wait, what's this about team america? maybe it's not.
my love for the olympics is mainly about the celebration of accomplishment, the passion of young athletes, the pursuit of dreams. and, i know this will rile some of you nationalists up, but i could give two shits about how many gold medals america takes home. personally, i don't care which nation 'wins more' or 'comes out on top'; i really don't. i love the opportunity, in fact, to celebrate the triumphs of a world of athletes.
and i imagine - hope - that i'm not alone in that sentiment. i just would like to see the world more aligned in celebrating each others' national triumphs and aiding in their trials, a little more often than every 25 years. so much focus on what makes us all different, and establishing a hierarchy of power, drains and saddens me.
d: may the olympic spirit transcend and the musical reprise resonate.
b: i am a proud citizen of the world.
g: a world diverse in culture, religion, geography and people.
i knew i'd heard a familiar melody coming from behind those french doors as i lingered in bed succumbing to sunday morning sleepiness.
the original 'we are the world' came out in 1985, when i was the boys' ages. eleven to be exact. and i remember listening to it on a 45 single, over and over again. and sitting in front of mtv waiting to see the video; they still played videos in the 80's, pre-reality tv.
i loved the song then as much as the boys do now. as they comb the artists' faces in the video, easily paused and rewinded and replayed at their whim on youtube, i remember doing the same at every opportunity.
but here we are, twenty-five years later, and i wonder if we're moving closer together or further apart as a global community. it's winter olympics time and what a fitting time for the re-release of a song about collaboration, i speculated.
but wait, what's this about team america? maybe it's not.
my love for the olympics is mainly about the celebration of accomplishment, the passion of young athletes, the pursuit of dreams. and, i know this will rile some of you nationalists up, but i could give two shits about how many gold medals america takes home. personally, i don't care which nation 'wins more' or 'comes out on top'; i really don't. i love the opportunity, in fact, to celebrate the triumphs of a world of athletes.
and i imagine - hope - that i'm not alone in that sentiment. i just would like to see the world more aligned in celebrating each others' national triumphs and aiding in their trials, a little more often than every 25 years. so much focus on what makes us all different, and establishing a hierarchy of power, drains and saddens me.
d: may the olympic spirit transcend and the musical reprise resonate.
b: i am a proud citizen of the world.
g: a world diverse in culture, religion, geography and people.
Friday, February 12, 2010
impatient
well, i suppose we got the snow i was asking for. the boys were disappointed it didn't make it here before school, but never mind that, after school worked just fine. both of them went through a couple pairs of pants, gloves, jackets, and hats. all of which are in the dryer as i type.
mega absolutely loved the snow. her first triumphant bound into the great white unknown took her head first into the fish pond, which wasn't quite frozen despite the snow laying on the surface. she was a trooper though and swam across the pond where i scooped her out. and then, she turned to the snowy grass and ran out into it, frolicking as though she hadn't just been dipped in an ice bath.
she loved the snow so much in fact that when i brought her in the house, she sat at the door whining to go back out. i can't tell you how excited that makes me for her late night potty trip before bed and even more thrilled about her 7 am trip. tromping into the nearly six inches of snow to retrieve her in my bathrobe isn't exactly how i want to wake up on a saturday morning. maybe she'll return quickly of her own accord. i'll cross my fingers.
the snow didn't trap us here all day, since it arrived late in the afternoon; but it did provide a natural barrier for tonight. and as luke and i threw snowballs at each other, it brought to mind 'laughter is the best medicine'. particularly when the ailment is in the heart. he seemed better tonight.
the boys and i played monopoly in front of the olympic opening ceremony tonight and i only wanted for one thing. haley. she's at work just like most every friday night, (though i can't imagine who is out to eat in this weather); and even more than most fridays i wish she were here, snowed in with us.
most of the time, i am fairly content with the flow of our time together and apart. we have much more of the former than the latter, especially considering we live in two homes, in different parts of town. i know that one day it will be different and to our credit, we're both patient enough and willing enough to do what we must until then.
except sometimes i'm impatient. and tonight, snowed in in the suburbs, is one of those times.
impatient for communication.
impatient for attention.
impatient for access.
impatient for companionship.
impatient for bedtime cuddles.
impatient for dawn.
just generally impatient.
*deep sigh*
when i turned off all the lights downstairs and summoned mega up to bed, i took a double-take at the back yard. it was so bright, i thought i must have left the floodlights on. but no.. just the snow's glow. it manages to reflect every particle of light, illuminating the entire neighborhood as though each house had its own private full moon.
and i'm reminded that there's light even when i'm impatient for dawn. there's medicine in laughter. and it's just a season...
d: laughter through the weekend
b: i'm replacing my impatience with gratitude
g: the light is so bright...the yard isn't the only thing glowing
mega absolutely loved the snow. her first triumphant bound into the great white unknown took her head first into the fish pond, which wasn't quite frozen despite the snow laying on the surface. she was a trooper though and swam across the pond where i scooped her out. and then, she turned to the snowy grass and ran out into it, frolicking as though she hadn't just been dipped in an ice bath.
she loved the snow so much in fact that when i brought her in the house, she sat at the door whining to go back out. i can't tell you how excited that makes me for her late night potty trip before bed and even more thrilled about her 7 am trip. tromping into the nearly six inches of snow to retrieve her in my bathrobe isn't exactly how i want to wake up on a saturday morning. maybe she'll return quickly of her own accord. i'll cross my fingers.
the snow didn't trap us here all day, since it arrived late in the afternoon; but it did provide a natural barrier for tonight. and as luke and i threw snowballs at each other, it brought to mind 'laughter is the best medicine'. particularly when the ailment is in the heart. he seemed better tonight.
the boys and i played monopoly in front of the olympic opening ceremony tonight and i only wanted for one thing. haley. she's at work just like most every friday night, (though i can't imagine who is out to eat in this weather); and even more than most fridays i wish she were here, snowed in with us.
most of the time, i am fairly content with the flow of our time together and apart. we have much more of the former than the latter, especially considering we live in two homes, in different parts of town. i know that one day it will be different and to our credit, we're both patient enough and willing enough to do what we must until then.
except sometimes i'm impatient. and tonight, snowed in in the suburbs, is one of those times.
impatient for communication.
impatient for attention.
impatient for access.
impatient for companionship.
impatient for bedtime cuddles.
impatient for dawn.
just generally impatient.
*deep sigh*
when i turned off all the lights downstairs and summoned mega up to bed, i took a double-take at the back yard. it was so bright, i thought i must have left the floodlights on. but no.. just the snow's glow. it manages to reflect every particle of light, illuminating the entire neighborhood as though each house had its own private full moon.
and i'm reminded that there's light even when i'm impatient for dawn. there's medicine in laughter. and it's just a season...
d: laughter through the weekend
b: i'm replacing my impatience with gratitude
g: the light is so bright...the yard isn't the only thing glowing
Thursday, February 11, 2010
hugs
monday afternoon, while shopping in new york, i got a phone call from todd. he was dismissive about my probings into his day at school because he said he had something to tell me. the story he told me, of the night before, was disturbing. his tears in the retelling broke my heart. i found a chair in the shop and sat listening, tears in my eyes to match his.
the story was one of careless words spoken under the influence and my boys on the receiving end. i heard fear and confusion and pain. and i wanted more than anything in the world to be able to wrap my arms around them both and make it better.
but i couldn't. and even now, home with my boys, i can't seem to find the right words for the situation. how can i explain that though nothing can excuse the behavior, the words were from a bottle and not a mind? or should i? i don't even know. i just find myself saying over and over, 'i'm so sorry this happened and you are hurting' and holding them in long hugs.
tonight luke stood in the shower, behind a locked door, crying. when i went to him, he said it was my fault, for going to new york. i know he doesn't really think that. he's just crushed and doesn't know where to put it. he laid his wet head against me for a hug, still in the shower, water running down his body, and cried, 'it doesn't matter if he didn't mean it. he still said it.'
and i'm at a loss myself. i hear the three c's of alanon banging up against my maternal instinct to protect my children and i feel helpless.
the weather gurus are all predicting a heavy snow tomorrow in atlanta. by 'heavy' i mean a few inches. it really only takes a dusting to shut things down, so one to three inches may as well be one to two feet. truly, the city doesn't own snow plows; so when snow does fall, if it needs to be moved, they use a road grader. (job security for the pothole posse, at least.)
if it comes as expected, we'll be snowed in. no school and considering my tires resemble the michelin man's head, i will probably opt not to do much, if any driving.
snowed in.
in some ways, i welcome that. perhaps a layer of snow between us and the outside world will insulate our family. perhaps it will allow the healing to begin. perhaps the pristine, white, wonder world of snow can magically transform my boys' pain.
as certainly as they are both dreaming of a school cancellation; i can dream too, right?
d: snow angels of healing
b: though words may fail me, my hugs help.. i hope.
g: my own experience as it avails my compassion
the story was one of careless words spoken under the influence and my boys on the receiving end. i heard fear and confusion and pain. and i wanted more than anything in the world to be able to wrap my arms around them both and make it better.
but i couldn't. and even now, home with my boys, i can't seem to find the right words for the situation. how can i explain that though nothing can excuse the behavior, the words were from a bottle and not a mind? or should i? i don't even know. i just find myself saying over and over, 'i'm so sorry this happened and you are hurting' and holding them in long hugs.
tonight luke stood in the shower, behind a locked door, crying. when i went to him, he said it was my fault, for going to new york. i know he doesn't really think that. he's just crushed and doesn't know where to put it. he laid his wet head against me for a hug, still in the shower, water running down his body, and cried, 'it doesn't matter if he didn't mean it. he still said it.'
and i'm at a loss myself. i hear the three c's of alanon banging up against my maternal instinct to protect my children and i feel helpless.
the weather gurus are all predicting a heavy snow tomorrow in atlanta. by 'heavy' i mean a few inches. it really only takes a dusting to shut things down, so one to three inches may as well be one to two feet. truly, the city doesn't own snow plows; so when snow does fall, if it needs to be moved, they use a road grader. (job security for the pothole posse, at least.)
if it comes as expected, we'll be snowed in. no school and considering my tires resemble the michelin man's head, i will probably opt not to do much, if any driving.
snowed in.
in some ways, i welcome that. perhaps a layer of snow between us and the outside world will insulate our family. perhaps it will allow the healing to begin. perhaps the pristine, white, wonder world of snow can magically transform my boys' pain.
as certainly as they are both dreaming of a school cancellation; i can dream too, right?
d: snow angels of healing
b: though words may fail me, my hugs help.. i hope.
g: my own experience as it avails my compassion
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
blockbuster
this is the first photo i can put my hands on of us together. it was one taken on my old blackberry and then forwarded to my email. it was march 14th, 2009. since then we've taken hundreds, from camera to video to phone to professional, but the most vivid pictures are still the ones i have in my memory. today marks a year since our first date.
365 days.
52 weeks.
a full cycle of the seasons; with winter seemingly getting the lion's share. (thanks to a late snow last year and the coldest winter ever this year, not to mention the icy temperatures still fresh in my memory from new york.)
every holiday, exactly one time.
the numbers seem so inadequate to capture all that we've built and celebrated and felt. the enormity of what the year has brought into my life is so much larger than what would fit on a calendar. and yet, somehow there's still a newness too.
a newness that catches me off guard at times. an unexpected shyness. an important childhood story yet untold. an article of clothing first worn. and then this. and then that. and every time i am both surprised and excited and reminded of this night a year ago and the butterflies i felt with each piece of her self revealed to me.
i've always been a person that loves movies and especially the trailers for them. i used to have a notepad in my purse where i'd scrawl, mostly illegibly in the low light, movies that looked worth seeing judging by the previews. then when the names were all but lost in my poor memory, i'd at least have the written evidence that at one time i thought they might be good.
this year is but a preview of the life haley and i are beginning together. and by the looks of it, it's a blockbuster. i'm sure of it.
d: my leading lady home from work.
b: our preview has been riveting!
g: i just heard the front door open...
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