How much do we tell our kids?

This question has so many different levels that I don't quite know where to begin. The first is the obvious, when and how do you talk about sex... for me that's an easy one. Sex is a part of life and kids are aware of it before they can talk, they just can't tell you.

Grown-ups are the ones with the hang ups. We think it's something to regulate, govern and prohibit. That, to me, is the ultimate crack up. For generations, for EVER, young people have found each other, touched each other and life has happened, over and over and over again. We're the ones with the fears that keep us from talking, and by not talking, we set up our children to get into trouble.

So enough said about sex talk.

But what about telling our kids about ourselves? the mistakes we have made or make? When do we tell them? Do we A. load them down with all of our baggage or B. wait until an issue comes up that demands it?

In this case, I vote for B. I don't think they really hear half our stories unless they pertain directly to their experiences anyway, so I wait until it's relevant.

Last night, it was relevant. My baby boy (who is 23) was in pain. Pain that was self inflicted. He knew it, I knew it, and I wanted to take it all away from him, and I couldn't. So I tossed and turned all night thinking about him and what I could have, should have said. When I did sleep I dreamed that I couldn't find him and tell him all that I needed to say. When morning finally came, I was relieved to find him sleeping in his bed, and I bared my soul to him about some mistakes and choices and things I've learned from them. I hope it helped. He seems so beat up today. I love him so very much. I hope I did the right thing.

How Am I?

After I wrote about my meds issue, I never followed up, and yesterday someone called to see how I was doing, so I thought I'd better follow up.

I've been back on them for a couple of weeks now, and I'm fine. It is amazing to me how the tiny little quarter of a pill dose I take daily can just even out my world.

I don't get irritated by the small stuff. I smile easily. I am more able to roll with the punches.

But it does not alleviate stress.

I think if I could invent an anti-stress pill I would.

I think it would look like a huge bank account and endless love and good business and great health and lots of exercise.

I guess what I'm trying to say is LIFE IS STRESSFUL because it is never perfect.

OK, so I get it. I need to learn to cope with the stress instead of trying to eliminate it.

Yoga helps, if you can figure out how to find the time to go to the classes.

YIKES. I sound like a stress case.

Reality is I'm studying for my Broker's exam in 9 days, working, helping my friend with her work, so she can go take the same exam and trying to do all my normal stuff too.

I'm over committed in my volunteer life, and my house is a mess.

I think it's time to re-evaluate some priorities... BUT FIRST - I have to pass that EXAM.

More wine please... I think that's an anti-stress pill of choice right now.

WARNING - Sensitive Subject, Stop here if need be

For the past two years, I have joined millions of people in the taking of antidepressants. I have struggled with this over and over again. At the time I started taking them, I had just gone through a crazy six months, had lost hair and could not sleep because I was overcome with anxiety. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Since that time, I have been, well -- blissfully happy. It's weird. I have never been this happy. So much so that I keep thinking there's something wrong with me.

Should I need drugs to be happy? Isn't this fake? Maybe I'm supposed to be irritable, anxious and tearful.

So periodically, about every 6 or 7 months, I try to go off the drugs. My doctor said I may not need them forever right?

About 2 months ago, I decided (on my own) that it was time to go off of them for good. I didn't need them and I was dependent and it was time.

I did it right too, I slowly, very very slowly reduced my dosage. Well at first it was slow. For a month, I took only 6 doses a week, then I went down to 5, then 4 then I decided (again on my own) that I was actually for all intents and purposes off of them, so I stopped. And for a few days, I thought yeehaw, I've kicked this baby!!!

Then gradually, I started snapping at the kids. I started getting irritated at my coworkers, I began noticing that I was having to force myself to smile. I had to remind myself that I hadn't smiled for a while, and make myself smile. It was interesting. And I thought it was normal. I thought cool. I'm normal again. No more of this drug induced euphoria. I'm real.

Then about two weeks after I was completely drug free, I woke up one morning and didn't want to do anything. Nothing. So my partner recommended, I go work out that day. I snapped at him for the suggestion, after all, it was none of his business. Then I got up and went to a Body Pump class. The entire class, I was miserable. I finally just left. I was done. I wanted my drugs. I wanted my drug induced happiness. So I went to the store to refill my prescription only to find out I couldn't the doctor had to call it in. It was at that moment, I completely lost it.

I went home and crawled under the covers and cried. I called my Steve and said, I can't get out of bed. He (sweet man that he is) came to me, crawled under the covers with me and told me it was o.k. to go get my drugs.

The doctor helped me immediately. I've been back on them for four days now, and guess what? I'm not euphoric. I'm still me. But I am once again happy. I can smile. I'm not as irritable (pms so a little hunh?).

I need to remember this. So I'm writing it down. My brain has an issue with me being in balance. I'm off kilter somehow. It is not my imagination, and there is nothing 'wrong' per se. I'm just like millions of people who suffer from depression. I didn't do anything bad, I don't 'deserve' this anymore than someone who has a physical illness deserves it. It just is part of my makeup, and thank God for science and treatments that make it so I can live a normal and happy life.

My children and everyone around me are thankful too.

Follow your nose day

My favorite kinds of days now I call a follow your nose day.

It's a day when you don't have to work, but you have a lot to do, but you don't want to make a list or a plan. So I just go with the next right thing.

It is a blissful way to have a weekend day. I usually end up getting a lot done, and I never feel like I'm working, just floating from one thing I want to do to the next thing I want to do.

The only rule is that I don't do anything I don't want to do.

So my nose said to write this down, now I think I'll go find food, then wherever my nose leads me next.

Talking to myself and feeling old...

I love my Bluetooth headset for my cellphone (a new millenium necessity right?) and because I have hair that hangs over my ears, no one can even see it. This is nice, and sometimes humorous.

This morning I was having a long talk with my sister on the phone and since I had to go into Safeway and buy a couple of things, I just decided to take her in with me. So I'm chatting along picking up this and that (that including a bottle of wine that I have trouble finding, so I grab it when I see it) when I notice a guy giving me the funniest look.

Suddenly I realize that I must look like one of those people who have loud and boisterous conversations with their other selves. So I stopped talking to my sister and focused on this guy and told him, "I'm on the phone..." He smiled and said he wouldn't interrupt me no matter who I was talking to.

I about lost it... I had to hang up the phone and laugh -- the gentleman came back and informed me that he was a pastor and talked with many people with similar issues. And besides he said, you have a bottle of wine, and it's before lunch, heck it's before breakfast. By this time I am busting a gut and trying to balance all my stuff, he and I agreed we had made each other's days.

I find the world is full of these joyous and small connections if you are open to them.

I'm not suggesting you go around talking to everyone or even yourself because they're liable to put you away for that, but if you are awake and aware of your surroundings, there are lovely people and moments every five feet or so.

Good morning Friday!!!

The art and science of child rearing

I've been known to be naive on some topics. I actually thought child rearing ended when they turned 18 and went off to college. When my dear son Nick turned 21 and was still living with me and going to school, I realized that was a myth. Sort of.
Nick is 23 now, and he's a man. But I still feel responsible for taking care of him. He still needs my help now and then.
Anyway, my two beautiful children 23 and 11, yes 12 years apart are currently engaging in a traditional sibling practice. They tattle on one another.
Now, I get that siblings do this. I have a sister 2 years my junior. BUT I also have a brother 10 years my junior. My sister and I sibling rivaried 'til we dropped, but my brother and I -- NADA. I would never have thought to compete with Tony for anything or to tell on him. It would have been ludicrous. Maybe this is because I was out of my parents' home when I was 18...probably.
So here I am in a different place in time, and my mind is boggled.
Recently my son broke a precious bowl of mine. This bowl had been moved several times and carefully treasured for years and years. He left it on the counter in its broken state, so I would know it had happened. Afterall, he's 23 and a good kid.
But when I returned home that night, his little sister, my sweet 11-year-old daughter, Claire, leapt to tell me that Nick had broken the bowl. She actually seemed to delight in telling me, and when I asked her why she tattled, she explained that Nick would not have told me... which was kind of more than a little amusing because he so obviously left it out for me to find.
OK, so this was not all that strange coming from an 11-year-old girl. But this is where it gets kinda twisted. Two days or so later, I get a call at work from my darling boy. He wants to inform me that No. 1, he's doing dishes, (which is very cool) but No. 2, his sister has 9 -- count 'em -- 9 dishes in her room and 7 plastic drink bottles in various places throughout the house.
At this point, I am stifling my laughter and trying to explain to the young man that 11-year-olds are slobs. REMEMBER????
Nick goes on to tell me that he has piled these things on his sister's bed and is of the opinion that I need to come down on her in a strong manner, so she learns her lesson and doesn't turn out --- like him.
I am so delighted that they are acting like siblings. When I had them 12 years apart, I feared they would never really know one another and never have the issues that siblings have and that I now look back on fondly from my own childhood. So for me this is an amazing and delightful part of life.
I hope they grow to treasure one another and understand that this time is brief and fleeting and all that gushy mom stuff, but more than anything what great free entertainment!

Balance

I find every day is a balancing act. Not the kind where you are on a tightwire, but the kind where you are trying to balance ten bowling pins on your hand without dropping them. Some might call it a juggling act. I prefer to think of myself as someone who balances. Call it what you will, for some time now my goal in life has been to be healthy, in every possible way. And that means balancing the needs of my clients, my children, my partner, my pets, my friends, my self, and definitely not in that order!!!
Most days, I do a reasonable job of pulling it off, but some days I want to toss the friggin' pins in the air and walk away.
Today has been one of those days.
It doesn't happen often. For the most part, I'm just grateful for my life and the gifts inherent within it. But today, it's grey out, I'm being challenged by technology, I have too much to do and I'm tired.
WHINE WHINE WHINE.
Any thoughts? Because I'm coming up empty.

LOL says, Life is Short

Priorities, necessities, needs, wants...
I was talking with a friend this week and jokingly told him, all I need in life is my dog, adrenaline and Prilosec.
I kind of meant it.
My dog is my sweetness, centering and peaceful. Petting him erases stress. Murphy rules.
Adrenaline keeps my blood moving. I feel alive.
Prilosec calms my acid reflux from the stress adrenaline causes.
OK, so yes, I joke, I love my kids, my people, my partner.
I am an unbearably happy woman.
And today a young man died. He was 59, and his time was up. Too soon. I am so lucky. My life is amazing, and I'm so glad that I am where I am in this time and place with the people I love.

Public Enemy Number -- ME!!!

It has been a long time since I was in grad school fighting the good fight in a newspaper column. Back then I got threats and hate mail, those were the days.
And yet, it appears I still have a way about me -EVIDENTLY. I found out recently that one man has named me as one of the top most evil folks in Thurston County.
I am strangely flattered!
Evidently, little old me has done something to irritate a certain ex-Tumwater Councilman. I even think I may know what I did, but come on seriously???
I think what I did was taking a job with the Economic Development Council , where I helped find ways to make more jobs in the county.
Or maybe it's because now I sell commercial real estate???
The gentleman in question is part of a small cadre of locals who are anti-growth. We call them No growthers. They are very outspoken environmentalists. I have NO problem with environmentalism in all of its forms. I am a strong supporter of all things green, REALLY.
My job is to help businesses find places to do business. That doesn't mean I am a proponent of knocking down trees or using up resources.
I'm truly just trying to feed my kids.
I am flattered by this guy thinking I am worthy of his red highlighter, but I honestly think it says more about him than me.
I am hoping I don't get any hate mail or threats this time around and besides, I think red highlighter is cool. Red is my favorite color!!!

Being Sick Still Sucks

I'm sick.

I'm not dying, well we're all dying, so I guess that's not quite true.

But I am sick.

I hate being sick.

They passed that physician assisted suicide bill in Washington State this year.

I'm all in favor.

Just so long as I get to make the rules, and I am the one that basically takes care of business if and when I want to.

It's not that I don't trust my kids or the doctor, but I don't want anyone else to take this on as their burden and feel badly about it. As I am writing this, I am realizing I may not be as ok with it as I say. Questions are filling my mind, like "If I kill myself, will I go to Hell?"

Just when I least expect it -- when I think I'm clear on a subject, the God thing pokes its head out of hiding and brings moral issues to light.

I know thou shalt not kill, but what about mercy?

What about when your life has ceased to be of value?

God says all life has value.

REALLY?

What about the life of a serial killer? What about a person who is brain dead?

There has to be a place at which we draw the line.

I've always been against the death penalty because I don't believe anyone has the right to end another person's life, including the state. But what about mercy???

Obviously I don't have an answer, and I am hungry for one.

Being sick sucks, and I wouldn't want to be REALLY sick and a burden on others and in constant pain. I would want to move on, but does my will matter?

Are we truly meant to live out our days as handed?

Or is God just as merciful as I would think, and did he maybe give us a way to opt out?

I think we are all allowed to figure some of this stuff out for ourselves.

Black and White is easy and straightforward, but Grey sometimes is the right color.

Why this LOL is not getting plastic surgery

I was at Joanne Fabrics shopping when I met the most adorable 18-month-old mini woman. She had on the most proper wool coat and a blond bob. Her crystal blue eyes stared up at me as she walked determinedly with her stout little legs in front of her mother through the crowded store.
I couldn't resist crouching down and chatting with her (really her mom). She was enchanting. After I turned and walked away, she followed me. Her mom didn't notice, so I said "honey, go back to momma." Momma barreled around the corner about then, grabbed her sweet child and said "Does that lady remind you of grandma?"
She was talking about ME.
Grandma. I will delight in being a grandma whenever it happens. I am ready willing and able to be a grandma. My life partner, Steve, has three grandchildren, who I delight in spoiling and enjoy playing with. Being a grandparent will rule.
But this gal knew I was old enough.
Wow.
My secret undercover age is gone. Because my entire life, very few people have ever guessed my age correctly. I was carded up until I was almost 40. Mostly this is because I'm small. 5-foot to be exact. It makes you look young.
In our culture looking young is a big deal. So when I was in my 20s and watching other women age, I saw some of them get plastic surgery, face lifts, eye lifts, boob lifts... and I decided then and there that I would never do this. These women were beautiful and their age did nothing to change that. In my 20-something opinion, they didn't need to change a thing.
Later I had a daughter (ok, much later... I was 38 when she was born.) I repledged myself to abstain from plastic surgery at this time. I didn't want Claire to ever think there was anything wrong with aging.
When Claire was 8, we were both looking in the mirror, and I said something to the effect of when she was older she would have earned all the lovely lines and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that showed years of smiles and life. My dear sweet daughter screwed up her face and peered at me in the mirror. She finally said, "Gosh I hope not."
I still laugh out loud at that memory. So much for my quest to show her one can age with dignity and beauty. At almost 50, it has grown increasingly difficult to abstain from a little lift here, some collagen there, or maybe that poisonous stuff that they inject into your forehead.
But somewhere lurking under the surface of my slightly saggy body, my slightly wrinkly face is the 20-something, and my ideals remain intact and my body remains au naturel. And someday when I die, it'll all be worm food anyway, at least my worms will be able to eat every bite!!!

Going Live

Today I posted the link to this blog on Facebook.
Weird how I am suddenly VERY self conscious and going back trying to decide what to edit or change. I took down the bathing suit pic.
What a goofy thing to do. The whole idea was to make this about not caring what people think anymore... so hmmm another life lesson. You are never too old to feel self conscious, to question yourself and your judgment.

Note to self: First instincts rule. Keep listening.

LOL says: He who has not sinned, cast the first stone...

I was a nut. Ok some might argue with the past tense in that sentence. When I was a kid, I was VERY religious, and I memorized Bible verses until I was blue in the face. My father, who is a crazy Sicilian reformed Catholic, accepted Christ and became a Christian when I was 12 years old.
Like most teens, I thought I knew everything, was dying to be right, fought authority and basically anything else I could to make my parents lives miserable.
My father was all about the rules of Christianity... with a Catholic devotion to dogma and a spare the rod and spoil the child philosophy.
So it didn't take long before his new found Christianity gave him the knowledge to pass judgment on sinners of all kinds.
But as his child, the only sins I could see were his, and with singleminded fury, I would fight him tooth and nail, screaming "HE WHO HAS NOT SINNED, CAST THE FIRST STONE..." my attempt at a Bible quote along with "JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE JUDGED..." Nothing better than a know-it-all kid with endless courage, a sense of self righteousness and a BIG mouth.
Needless to say, my less than perfect and less than patient Sicilian father would regularly knock me on the floor after one of my self righteous rants.
As a woman of almost 50, I know he could have been more patient, but man what a pain in the ass kid. I have one now who is the opposite of religious... to the point he wears a "God Free" sweatshirt. And as the ironies of life would have it, I have come back to my spiritual roots.
So having grown up in a different time and under different circumstances than my father, I am practicing what I preached -- loving this kid with all my might, trying to be an example of God's love in his life. Judging not lest I be judged because God knows --- I have sinned.

Relationships change, flow, they do not end

I have been married and divorced twice.
Not a great record in most people's books, but to me, it means a life fully lived.
I have never settled for being ignored, treated badly, cheated on or lied to.
I have always known somewhere inside me that I deserved a good relationship. But I have not always known what that meant.
I've made a jillion mistakes.
I've loved deeply, fully and frequently.
Recently a strange confluence of events has come into my life, every person from my past with whom I have unresolved issues has shown up within 90 minutes of my home.
Now maybe this wouldn't be so odd if I hadn't grown up in Kansas, more than 1,000 miles from where I live in Olympia, WA.
And these three people just happened to move to Seattle or Portland.
And we found each other.
And resolutions occurred.
One of these folks, my lovely mentor from 20 or so years back asked me, why do you want to reconnect with me???
I answered her truthfully...
I never left you. I believe relationships, once created, exist. They change, they flow, they alter and live. But they do not end. Even when the other person dies, the entity that is the relationship still exists.
A relationship between people is a living, breathing reality.
It is a beautiful thing.
My ex husbands... probably don't agree.
Nor do most people whose relationship has bent in a way they did not choose.
But even those feelings and relationships are still out there floating and living.
There are a few more people out there with whom I have unresolved issues... we'll see what the future holds.

Not sure what this year means

This year, October 29 to be exact, I turn 50. It truly seems like yesterday I was 20. I know everyone says that... ok so it must mean something then.
LIFE really IS short.
One day you're sneaking around behind your parents back trying to have some fun and the next you're trying to pay bills, trying to catch your own kids having fun, married or divorced and smack in it. A grown up.
This year I actually feel like one.
Yikes. I can't believe I had to get this old to feel like an adult.
So I chose this photo of myself in a bathing suit being randomly hot at 50 on a beach in Hawaii. (Which I later removed...) Why? because even though I know I sound and feel like a little old lady, I think this age is fabulous. I don't feel particularly old, but I can't get into some of the yoga poses I used to and running hurts me now, so is it time to work out more? or less?
LOL says more.
I love that LOL means laughing out loud AND little old lady.
I'm doing both right now as often as possible.
I started this blog because Paul said to, and I'm going to start putting my thoughts into it. I doubt anyone will really read it, I'm not even sure how people find blogs really, unless of course they're your friends.
But nevertheless. Tallyho, for me.