The heart of stone I sometimes get -

I don't know why I act the way I do

Like I ain't got a single thing to lose

Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy

I got a life that most would love to have

But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad

At where this road I'm heading down might lead

The urge to run, the restlessness

The heart of stone I sometimes get

The things I've done for foolish pride

The me that's never satisfied

The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see ... 

Is that really ME?

This is not my normal light-hearted blog entry.  But sometimes I do have serious things to consider.

How do I do this mother thing right?  It's a bad week with the teenagers and the "baby". (He is six - but so much younger than my "first litter" that he is "the baby" still).  This is not going how I want it to.  I feel like my life is thoroughly and completely NOT my own.  Do they even love each other?  Do they love me? Why do they do this to me?  Why do I do this to them?  I want to rewind to the spot where this all began going wrong and have a "do over". 

How far do I have to go back?  I do not even know! 

I cannot find the spot. 

Maybe it was when they were toddlers?  It doesn't matter anyway.  I know that I can not do it over.

I just completed my 6th year at my job.  This little anniversary comes with a performance review.  I am a good dental hygienist - I have great rapport with patient's and their guardians - I understand insurance -I can calculate the proper antibiotic prophylaxis for a child with a heart murmur -

OH! and I am late to work more often than I am on time.  These are the things that I already know I will hear and see and sign my name to when my boss presents me with my performance review. I am that confident.

I AM A GOOD MOTHER.

This is what I want to be confident about.  It is the only performance review I care about. Tell me what specific thing I need to do - how can I make this happen?

I mean ... I know - prayer, scriptures, church attendance, Family Home Evening - I learned all those "answers" too.  The answers to SO many questions.  I know them.  I understand them.  I don't do them well - but not because I don't know better. I know that ... ok?

Even those things - no matter how lovely -  do not guarantee a safe, competent, successful adult to spawn from the beautiful, perfect in everyway child that I birthed.  I realize that these things ... these exercises ... provide a great foundation - something to come back to when it is needed in their life - but no matter how well anyone does it - there are no guarantees.  I know because I've seen families that do these "exercises" very well and they very often do not end up with children who are kind, happy and successful.

Can I have a guarantee with that please? 
`
To my children -
I promise you - my beautiful children that I only do for you what I think is best.  I promise you that I know you - who grew in my belly - layed in my arms - slept in my bed - better than anyone except your creator.  Each of you - are my life. 

Sometimes you are the only reason that I even bother to get out of bed.

Thoughts of each of you are always banking around in my brain - like a pinball machine - one thought POPPING to the next. 

Sometimes it abrasively shoots across to a fear I might be having for you at the moment ...

That boy better take care of her on the jet-ski. Is he going to be wreckless with her beautiful life? Did I stress to her enough how very important it is to me for her to keep that life jacket on? -  I hope Corey isn't hungry. - Does Bradley understand where his Dad is?  - I can plainly see that my boy is getting ready to get his heart broken and I cannot bear to watch.   - I hope that siren isn't driving toward one of my babies. - Jesse looks so sad...

... and other times it gently rolls to a memory of you that makes me smile. 

Those night time sweet words when it was just me and you in your bed waiting for sleep to come. - Story time at the library. - Our first mini-van. - Comforting you thru a thunderstorm. - Finding you butt-naked in the McDonald's play area - your voice on my Mother's Day phone call - 16 years if OBX memories.

Sometimes it lingers in a pocket of regret - a time in your life - even a specific event -  that I wish I had handled differently - better. 

I wish I had not given Corey's kitten to Lacey.  It was awful.  He was only seven years old - it was a horrible punishment for a little boy. - I wish I had not fallen apart on Lyndsi Shae's very first prom day and yelled at her until she cried.  She wasn't letting me be part of her day - so what did I do?  I made sure she felt plenty bad about it! It was mean. - Why did I put Lacey in Kindergarten when she was only 4.  She was such a little thing!  What was I rushing? - Why didn't I wait to go to dental school until Jesse was older.  Why did I think once he reached Kindergarten that I was free to do such a time consuming thing that literally sucked me out of my family's life?
------------

I don't know why I act the way I do

Like I ain't got a single thing to lose

Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy

I got a life that most would love to have

But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad

At where this road I'm heading down might lead

The urge to run, the restlessness

The heart of stone I sometimes get

The things I've done for foolish pride

The me that's never satisfied

The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see ...

 


So - this blog has been in my "draft box" for weeks.  I can't figure a proper way to wrap it up.  Its not wrappable.  Its a work in progress ... my blog ... my mothering - a work in progress.

You're Not The Boss Of Me ...

I have an issue.

Okay, I have many issues – most of which will eventually become evident thru my blogging - but one in particular - I do not like to be bossed. I will avoid being bossed at pretty much all cost.

I believe this is a genetic trait because - I am pretty certain that no blood related female in my family has been bossed in any recent century.

Let me begin by clarifying – in case my boss ever stumbles onto this blog - that I am not referring to a boss/employee relationship. I respect the laws of seniority and one-up-man-ship that come with education, degrees and initials that sub sequentially get placed after your name.
So, Doctor _______… please, boss me at will.

I am also not referring to law enforcement personnel, judges, bailiffs, or laws and rules in general. If the bailiff tells me not to wear my hat or sunglasses while I am in the traffic court room - I will obey!

BUT:
• If you do not live in my house – do not tell me how to manage my time so that I can have enough hours to work out at the gym and have a body like yours.

• If you don’t have children in middle school, please don’t tell me how to get my child to “want to” do his homework and make good grades. Elementary school children are not the same as middle school teenagers - no matter what you think.

• If you haven’t been to dental school, don’t tell me that your child does not need another silver crown in his mouth.

• Just because your over 19 year old children aren’t inherently good – don’t try and convince me that mine aren’t.

• If I am late to work every single day for two weeks, (and you are not my boss), trust that I am well aware of my lateness and I hate it as much as you do.

• If I have strep throat on Monday, and my son gets strep throat on Wednesday, please don’t tell me when I am at your office again on Sunday - that my daughter’s sore throat and fever is just allergies and post nasal drip.

• If I say the tanning bed helps my attitude with life – don’t lecture me about the harmful effects of UV rays on my skin.

• If you’re drinking a Jim Beam and Coke – don’t tell me I should eat organic peanut butter. (In fact – no matter what you’re eating or drinking – never tell me to eat organic peanut butter).

Turn That Way

I consider myself a fast learner.  I was potty trained at a non-embarrassing age - rode a two-wheeler bike (sans training wheels) at about 3 years old - roller skating?  I'm sure at about the same age.  I learned to tie my shoe sometime before kindergarten - after my sister showed me only once.  Impressive? 

I like to think so. 

It is a real shame that there isn't a place on your resume for such items because sadly... no one cares!

While I'm admitting my prodigy-like childhood - I'll just go ahead and admit that there are a few things that I never learned.  I never learned to blow a bubble with bubble gum.  I know this seems trite, but really ... how difficult should this be to learn?  I distinctly remember when I was 9 - my best friend, Stephanie, tried to teach me to blow a bubble when I confessed to her - as best friends do - that I could not. 

After 20 minutes of failure - we decided to move on to whistling - which I could also NOT do.  I am excited to say that I can whistle now - even if only barely. 

There is still another thing that I never quite grasped.  I still struggle with it.  That would be: Left and Right.  I still marvel that my children picked this up so quickly -because I have had to come to terms with the fact that this task is never going to be something that I do not have to think hard about before answering or responding.  If you're not one to struggle with left and right - then you would have NO idea how often a person, like myself, has to knock down the panic and THINK about it. 

I have a few memories of how this problem has plagued me.  Bear with me while I painfully remember them.

• 
  
  
  I had a childhood friend who lived in the house to our left (Umm - yes! I had to think about it).  She was younger and ridiculously smarter than me.  When we would get together and play TWISTER, she would pull out colored ribbons and tie a red one on my right hand and foot and a green one on my left hand and foot.  When she would spin the spinner she never even bothered saying left or right ...she would just say - "Red hand on yellow". Yes ... someone had to "dumb down" TWISTER for the likes of me!
• 
  
  
  I rode the school bus when I was little.  Sometimes when you had to have a substitute bus driver, one of the kids would be asked to sit in the front and tell the driver the route and where to stop.  I happen to get off last so I was often picked for this task.  One particular little high school creep and substitute, bus driver, once yelled to the entire bus, "Does anybody on this bus know the route AND their left and right?  Because 'turn this way' is not really working for me."  I was mortified.  I would've gladly worn the ribbon bracelets!  Geez!
• 
  
  
  In high school, I was in marching band. My band instructor, Mr. Tommy Smith (totally unrelated side note: Mr. Smith was hot by anyone's standards)- would stand high on his band booster built tower to get an ariel view of our marching formations.  He would stop us at certain points to perfect the formation.  Thru the mega-phone he once yelled at me - "Amy - move one step to your left."  I tried to think but I just panicked - the combination of the not ever really understanding the concept of your left and my left and then the mega-phone and his hotness ... aaaaargh!  I just squinted my eyes and picked one of the two ways. It was incorrect and he then said, into the megaphone, "Good Amy, now take two steps to you other left.  I should add that I am sure in the four years I marched - this happened more than once and it never became any less painful.

I know you are wanting to tell me how you can hold up your thumb and pointer finger in the shape of an "L" and the one that is not backwards is your left hand ... "L" for left.  I'm here to tell you that this does not work for me.  Somehow, in the panic that comes from not knowing your left from your right,  I am also never able to tell which "L" is backwards. 

It's sad ... but I did finally find somewhat of a remedy.  Sometime during high school, I had a teacher who insisted that your name and block number be in the upper right hand corner of any work you turned in. If it wasn't - then she subtracted ten points.  Thankfully I only had to figure out where the upper right hand corner of the page was once and I was fine.  From this point on - anytime I had figure out a left or right - I visualized a large sheet of notebook paper - saw the upper right hand corner and VIOLA! Even if the response was slightly delayed - I could usually respond correctly.

Life concerning my left and right had become acceptable until my early thirty's when I began Dental Hygiene School.  Even if your are an expert at your left and right - dental school will challenge your intellect and thought processes concerning left and right. 

In dentistry you always refer to the patient's right or left - and I already mentioned that the concept your left being any different from my left makes absolutely no sense to me.  Additionally ... while the right side of the mouth will always be teeth numbers 1-8 and 25-32 ... on the x-ray viewbox - the right side of the mouth is on the left side of the viewbox. I think if I had known this prior to applying to dental school, it would have been enough to prevent me from doing it! 

  <--RIGHT -  LEFT-->

One day during dental school - while I was commiserating my right and left handicapped brain and what it had cost me in the way of a failing score on a certain anatomy test - my instructor said the following to me:

"You're just not spatial. Normally, I would see this as the red flag of failure in a dental student, but I believe you will be okay.  You will be able to make up for this deficit in your brain, with your mouth."

I'm still not really sure what she meant by making up for it with my mouth. I'm not sure I really wanted to know - I took it as a positive comment and ran.

Oh! - And I still can't blow a bubble gum bubble.

Do I Eat Organic?

Okay - Who am I kidding? I have healthy DESIRES. I don't want to be fat. I want to be able to walk at a brisk pace and still be able to talk. I want to fit into the airplane seat and not use an extension on my seatbelt. But ... I have no interest in running a marathon, climbing Mount Everest, or eating tofu.

"Natural" - "Organic" - "Holistic" ... these words are not associated with my diet or my life. It doesn't matter if we are talking about my approach to pain or my peanut butter.... I am not a "Granola"!

I have a couple of examples to support my statement- bear with me.

Peanut Butter-
I could write an entire blog about peanut butter. (And I probably will ...) Let me just say that whoever created peanut butter should be exalted immediately and I am NOT being facetious -- not even a little bit! But, I should probably clarify-  whoever created Peter Pan peanut butter - because have you ever tried organic peanut butter?

During one of my quest to be healthier, I decided that I was going to give organic peanut butter a try. I knew I had made a mistake however when, as I twisted off the lid, I saw written in small curvy print - "Stir before consuming - Keep refrigerated".

Refrigerated? Are you kidding me? The warmer and the meltier the peanut butter - the BETTER. My bread should not tear when I’m spreading my peanut butter and there is something inherently wrong (and very un-granola like) about microwaving your peanut butter before you spread it! Strike ONE.

Stir? You do have to stir organic peanut butter, because apparently, one of the very unhealthy ingredients in normal peanut butter is what actually allows all the ingredients to mesh. I don't even need to know what that ingredient is - I already know that I am a fan of it! The absence of it in organic peanut butter causes the various ingredients to separate much like a container of oil and water. It happens so quickly that when I made a sandwich with it - I kept peeking between the bread to be sure the parts weren’t separating while I was attempting to eat it! Strike TWO!

If I really need a Strike THREE - then Ill give you a couple to choose from. The jar is too little, the price is too high and the taste is so far from Peter Pan that I can't even trick myself into believing that it is a treat.

My Body
Wisdom teeth - 3rd molars - I am sure you are familiar with them? My parents were kind enough to schedule mine to be removed when I was 17 - before I got married (at 18 - another blog entry) and was no longer on their health insurance. In my career however, I meet a lot of grown ups without such good fortune.

On one occasion, early in my career as a dental hygienist, I walked into my operatory to find my patient propped up in the dental chair dressed in cut-off jeans and Birkenstocks (with socks) and a 2 year old on her lap. She was the epitome of a "Granola". She proceeded to point to her area of discomfort which I immediately suspected was an impacted third molar. An x-ray and exam revealed that she needed to have the tooth removed - extracted. The dentist I worked for at the time suggested an oral surgeon and offered a prescription for the meantime.

When the dentist left - guess what this lady told me? "I am a naturalist". (I am not kidding - her Birkenstock clad self - announced to me that she was a naturalist!). "I really do not think I am comfortable removing perfectly good parts of my body." I explained to her that her pain could not be remedied any other way. If it were a cavity that was causing the pain, even a large cavity, we could fill the tooth or perhaps provide a root canal treatment but her problem was simply a matter of space - not enough room - and the tooth needed to be extracted.

Still holding her jaw, because she was in so much pain, she continued - "I prefer to listen to my body and let it can tell me what I need."

I could not resist. I put my hands on my hips and said, "That pain you are feeling?  That is your tooth screaming at you that it needs to be extracted- so please do listen!"

She really couldn't argue.

Child Birth
I am the very proud mother of five children. Currently they range from age 21 to 6 years old. As you read this - I bet your just itching to ask me if I had them "naturally". It is amazing to me that when you are a new mother and you have this beautiful, wrinkled and obviously brand new infant in your arms- even total strangers feel inclined to ask you if you birthed your child "naturally". I stole my response to this question from my very wise sister. I usually say- "Well it depends what you mean by natural. It didn't come out through my eyeball or anything!"

Dan and I attended Lamaze classed when I was pregnant with my oldest child Lyndsi Shae. Ill be honest -from the beginning, I never really caught the spirit of the Lamaze birthing method. To me, it is something akin to telling someone with appendicitis - "Stare at this pretty picture while I slowly cut you open and rip out your appendix".

Still ... we were taught that a mother bonds faster and stronger with her infant when she does not have drugs to aid her delivery. It was preached that the sense of accomplishment and euphoria would be one hundred fold if we did not chose the epidural cop out.

My first labor experience was just under 37 hours. Let me just say that there is not a focal point magnificent enough for 37 hours. I had an epidural. I am unashamed. In my book, the maker of epidurals is right up there with the maker of Peter Pan Peanut Butter..

For those of you who still insist that I have not lived life until I have experienced "natural child birth"  - I can tell you that I have indeed experienced a drug free vaginal birth. He was my second child. The labor was a mere 8 hours. I did not have an epidural. Corey was 9 pounds 3 ounces and I’m pretty sure his head was close to 22 inches. (That may have actually been his length but whatEVER). It hurt. I cried. I yelled. I was exhausted and embarrassed by my performance. It was not a happy experience.  I did not bond with him any faster, any more or any better than I bonded with my other children, who were birthed with the benefit of pain relieving drugs. I know it is amazing and unbelievable to you Naturals ... but being in touch with my pain - did not make me love him more.

I toyed with leaving this part out but I should mention that the absence of an epidural was not by choice. I am not that brave and I never felt the calling of natural child birth.  In fact,  I was inquiring about an epidural while I was still filling out the paperwork at the emergency room entrance. I did not receive my epidural because I was blessed with the GRANOLA nurse from hell - whom I will NEVER forget. It was 100% her fault that I did not get to have my epidural. I still remember her name and I even typed it here. Then I remembered that you may know her - or she may be your mother or next door neighbor - so I deleted it.

So ...
There you have it.  I am what I am - tainted with  unnatural preservatives,  pesticides and pain medications. 
I may very well die an untimely death associated with allowing these awful things into my body.
To that ... I say that the rest of you people are going to feel very silly when you are lying in YOUR hospital bed ... dying of absolutely nothing.

Alice In Wonderland

Today - I took my two littlest guys to see Alice in Wonderland (2010).


Let me first say that-so far- all variations of Alice in Wonderland thoroughly creep me out. In fact – until today – I’m not sure that I have ever seen any version in its entirety - probably because I had to stop watching to prevent bad dreams.

When Alice falls into the rabbit hole, it scares the hell out of me. Then there are all those locked doors that she cannot open – yes it scares me. I might be weird but when Alice is too big for one door that she can open -I cringe and find it hard to breathe as she tries to squeeze herself thru it! It’s the first time I understood claustrophobia.

What’s more? She drinks a mysterious potion (I’m yelling NOOOO! Don’t drink it! Are you NUTS?) Then- she alternately shrinks and grows! It is all just too CREEPY. I don’t think I’ve ever made it past that specific part of the story in any variation and apparently – that’s the very beginning of most versions.

Okay! I understand that the story is supposed to resemble a dream – and it is not supposed to flow or really make any sense whatsoever – BUT - I don't even like my OWN dreams and I really have never like that one.

So why would I take my kids to watch this movie? Can you say – “Johnny Depp”? I alternately love and loathe him. (I secretly would love to “mack” him in his pirate character ...just saying)! I am unashamed to admit that it was Depp that drew me to the movie. Depp – in case you do not know – plays the role of the Mad Hatter.

In the movie he and Alice have several clever exchanges – I’ve considered that each one might become my new mantra (if I had a use for such a thing).

Mad Hatter: Have I gone mad?
Alice: I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are!

I share with my wise mother the thought ... if THAT (pointing to some supposedly blissful human) is normal – I’m certainly glad I’m not normal!

Alice: Sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast!
Mad Hatter: That is an excellent practice!

Allow me these moments of hope – they keep me very UNnormal.

Mad Hatter: (to Alice) You used to be much more ... “muchier” You’ve lost your muchness!

I want my muchness back. I’ll do whatever it takes! I’ll drink the potion – I’ll eat the cake – I’ll shrink – I’ll grow – I’ll even fight the Jabberwocky...