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Love remembers

Because I was raised Jewish and then fell into a rather extreme Christian religion in college, when I regained my senses I was (understandly, I think) a bit wary of committing myself to another church. It wasn’t that I didn’t still consider myself a person of faith; it was that I was beginning to realize that first I needed to know what I believed, apart from what a group of people might tell me to believe.

My (ex) husband (is) was Methodist. I went to church with him. Sometimes. The Methodists seemed nice enough. (more…)

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Love is choosing joy

Love is the joy of the good, the wonder of the wise, the amazement of the Gods.




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I got one thing right today

I walked out of Monkey’s appointment this morning so furious and frustrated that it took me the better part of the day to recover. I feel like I’m a fairly reasonable and educated person; I am used to being treated as such. Nothing gets my hackles up more than someone who I feel is doing my child a disservice… except, perhaps, a person who treat me like a hysterical mommy WHILE doing my child a disservice.

I am not a hysterical mommy. I am many things, and Lord knows I am too emotional about many of them. But I know my kids, and to tell me otherwise is to draw my immediate suspicion.

And here I’d thought it was going to be a good day, too, because we were finally going to get some help, maybe, and because my last post hadn’t even drawn that much assvice! But then we didn’t get much help and the comments I knew would come popped up and then I had to make a big pot of mashed potatoes and stick my face in it. (more…)

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Orbitz sent 3 travel updates. . .

… all after I’d already gotten to the airport. I’m SO GLAD I gave them my cell phone number so that they could… send me email letting me know that the plane was delayed. Those people at Orbitz are ALWAYS THINKING! Why call me there at the airport when I might’ve found the information useful? So much better to find out—after I get back home—that my plane is late. Yes.

I am typing with two fingers and only one eye open, but figured I’d dash this off before turning in. What’s another half an hour once you’re up this late? (more…)

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I am the world’s worst traveller.

World’s. Worst.

I’m prone to motion sickness. I wear dorky wristbands with pressure points. I have to pee a lot. If I’m driving I’m a cranky driver and a lousy passenger. If I’m flying I’m nervous.

Worse than all of these, I like things to be JUST SO. Do you know how often things are JUST SO when you go outside of your tightly controlled home environment? Hint: NOT OFTEN ENOUGH.

Oddly enough, I love to travel. I look forward to it. I get excited about it. I have trouble sleeping the night before, and stare up at the ceiling in the dark, curling and uncurling my toes, willing myself to fall asleep so that I can wake up and get going. (more…)

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Question: How can you tell when I’ve written about having a really great day?

Answer: The NEXT day, the following occurs:
A) A child dons mud-crusted shoes and clomps through the freshly-vacuumed house,
B) My new website is hyped on a larger site and oh, by the way, is suddenly all weird-looking and broken,
C) Two days pre-haircut, I hit the critical “does she need a haircut or did a poodle die on her head?” stage,
D) It starts raining again (because it wasn’t WET ENOUGH),
E) All of the above.


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To have and have not

My eBay auctions are over, and the most memorable part that will remain in my mind was a woman mailing me to ask if my shipping cost on an item was a typo. I mailed back that it was not, and she responded telling me that she hoped I could sleep at night, despite the fact that I was “ruining eBay for everyone” with my “outrageous inflation.” I mailed her back a somewhat civil explanation of the weight of the item and calculated cost, then asked her to please not bother bidding on any of my items, because I felt her attitude was ruining eBay for everyone; but that she should have herself a pleasant evening.

As I weighed the box and printed out the shipping label, tonight, I discovered that–and I assure you, it’s sheer serendipity–the actual shipping cost to the winning bidder? Is exactly what I charged. I’ll be sleeping just fine tonight. I suspect that woman, however, will be kept awake with her righteous indignation and the neverending job of patrolling the world.

All that anger over a few dollars. How much do you want to bet Indignant McEBayQueen has plenty of money?

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Milestones instead of millstones

Sometimes I find myself being impatient with my children when they are slow to change behavior that has already proven counterproductive. To wit: Monkey does NOT like it if he is the last one upstairs on school mornings. You’d think this would compel him to get ready faster, but you’d be wrong. What it DOES cause him to do is pitch a great big hairy hissy fit when he realizes that I am packing lunches and Chickadee is eating breakfast and he is standing at the top of the stairs, alone and naked save for the underwear on his head. It’s becoming a problem.

And honestly, I have no idea where he gets that. Make the same mistake over and over, and then cry about the results? That’s just dumb. And so completely foreign to me. Ahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Sorry. I really thought I was going to manage that one with a straight face, but ummmm, no.

[For you, Dad: Why do I keep banging my head against this wall? Because it feels so good when I finally stop!]

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Right here, right now

There are a few things in this world that can bring me to my knees in reverence. The pure elation–or hard-won growth–of one of my children. Really good, labor-of-love cuisine. A perfect melding of personalities. Selfless attention to those in need. Desire born of spirit rather than excess hormones. Honesty. Correction: Difficult honesty.

It’s easy to be honest when there’s nothing at stake, and too few people willing to be truthful when it matters.

Sometimes, I make excuses for those who are dishonest with me. I’m trying to convince myself that I can’t expect more. That it’s my (unrealistic) expectations that lead to my inability to find peace, oftentimes, rather than the guile of others.

And sometimes, the kick-start of someone else’s honesty reminds me that the truth of any moment is perfect. Such a perfect moment is a moment I can actually BE in without commentary or judgement. For a change.

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“But it wasn’t me!”

There are so many important lessons we parents are responsible for teaching our children. How to share. How to take turns. How to partake of a meal in a way that won’t get you thrown out of a restaurant or never invited back to a friend’s house. How to put things away when you’re done with them so that Mama doesn’t step on them in the dark and hop around cursing while holding her injured foot.

I struggle every day, hoping that I am helping my children become people whom I will be proud to know. Especially because I believe example is the best teacher, and sometimes my example isn’t all that I wish it was. Other times, I am at a loss to explain why things have happened as they have; either because I simply don’t know or because the full scope of the situation is beyond what they can understand.

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