Political Confusion

I don't know who to vote for.  I do realize that there are only 19 little days between right now and Election Day.  It's at times like these that I wish that I were someone who votes straight Democrat or Republican--but I'm not.  I always vote for the person.  The problem this go around is that I don't really want either of these candidates running the country that I love so much.  I'm also taking things much more serious now that I have a child.  Is one of these goobers going to further screw up the US to the point that I'll be scared and guilty about having my son grow up in such a place?  It's not all that unlikely.  Just look at what the current administration has done!

I've tried to be very responsible and research what these two stand for, but none of their "talking points" are reaching out to grab me.  It seems like everyone has that "hot button" issue that is a deal maker or breaker for them.  For example, my husband is an insurance agent so health care issues and economic plans helped him decide.  For some it's abortion.  For others it's immigration or the War in Iraq.  I just have a very hard time thinking of any issue as black or white, so here I am--sitting right in the gray area on most everything.  I mean, take abortion.  Yes, I personally believe that it is WRONG and that there are certainly methods that are sick, sad and terrible.  But even Jesus Christ gives us free will, even though it could mean that some will spend eternity separated from Him.  So, who am I to say that it's ok to take a woman's will away when it comes to her decision on an abortion?  I pray she'll make the right decision, but should I or anyone else FORCE her by law to make that decision.  

Further dilemma: I flat out don't trust Obama.  He has a sneaky face and I don't think he's much of a gentleman.  But, I'm not sure McCain has the balls to run this country.  He's seems meek to me.  There are so many issues he should be throwing in Obama's face, but he's so polite that he just shakes his head and moves on.  

What to do?  Some have suggested that simply vote for someone else, but I refuse to cast a vote that essentially won't count.

19 days and counting to MY Decision 08.

The Strength of Women

It's always been said that women are the fairer sex. And, sure we are -- to some degree.  Not many of us get into manual labor, heavy lifting and contact sports.  But, the internal strength that so many of my women friends have shown in the past week amazes me.  

The role of a mother is one of the most glorious and one of the most difficult.  Having a child is like taking the risk of having your heart live outside your body for the rest of your life.  A risk because loving something that much can often be painful.  Each time your child is hurt, crying, upset, frustrated, angry, sad you want so badly to make it all go away, but that's not always possible and each time you have to face these emotions with your child it rips at you on the inside a little more each time.  How each mother handles it is different: sometimes there is guilt, sometimes a sense of failure, sometimes there is just the knowledge that some pain has to enter into everyone's life.  But we all have to handle it.

And you say, but you GET to be a mother.  You're right.  It's a gift.  Every day there are glorious wonders that come from being around my child.  

The tasks of a mother aren't usually that difficult.  Changing a diaper.  Not that hard.  Giving a bottle.  Not that hard.  Bathing and dressing.  Not that hard.  Reading a story.  Singing a song.  Cooking a meal.  Cleaning the house.  Not that hard.  But, think about it.  To do all those things and more all day, every day, with a positive attitude and a smile can sometimes...get to you.  You begin to think:  "What about me?"  "What about my interests?"  "When do I get time to relax?"  And that is the tough part about being a mother because the answer is that ultimately, those things are put on hold.  You have to sit back and watch a part of yourself slip away.  Congrats to those of you that have been able to hold on to the old you and to those of you who aren't bothered by this at all.  So many women I know have sacrificed who they are and where they were going to raise a child.  We do it willingly and knowingly.  I'm not saying that any of us were forced or are angry about it.  Some days it can just...get to you.  It's tough to see the importance of the love and attention and influences that are given to our children each day through our sacrifice--through our being here.  I know that someday it will matter that I gave up my career to stay at home and be a full-time mother to my son.  I know that he is becoming someone better for it.  I don't regret my decision.

On those days when being on duty for 24 hours a day starts to chip away at the smile and positive attitude, we start to yearn and crave a piece of time that we could escape. Time when no one is expecting anything and no one is demanding anything of our time. We talk about these cravings and feel guilty.  Actually guilty for wanting to help ourselves.  So, we're strong and we push it away and we keep going.  We want to feel important, but we push those needs aside.  We want to feel appreciated, but we push it aside.  We want to remember what made us fun and interesting, but we push it aside.  We want to use our talents, but we push it aside.  How long can it be pushed aside before there's some explosion--a point where you scream and throw your hands into the air and give up.  I have a dear friend who is so close to that point.  To look at her you'd never know it.  She's a pro at putting on a smile and playing happy, but it's getting old for her.  I really don't know what to do for her.  She's so guilt-ridden for even feeling the way.  But, she's facing this and she's finding her way out of it.  She is so strong.  Somehow we've all got to realize that taking care of ourselves helps us to better care for our children.

I have another friend who is faced with possibly losing one of her children in a custody battle.  It's killing her inside.  The thoughts of not seeing him grow and not being the one to help him grow are almost crippling her.  But, every day she gets out of bed and she loves on both her children.  She doesn't expose them to the pain she's feeling inside.  She is so strong.

Yet another friend lost a great job very suddenly.  She took the high road and saw it as an opportunity to explore other outlets for her talent.  Sure, she was worried and scared for a while, but she stays positive each day.  She is so strong.  

I am very lucky to be surrounded by such strong women.

Another Day

I had in mind to write this great blog about my political woes, but I can't today.  I can't because it's one of those days.  I feel like my body is heavy and melting.  My face has no smile and I am on the edge of something--I don't know what.  It takes everything in me to stop from falling into whatever is pulling me down.  Gravity seems to work more on me than others today.  

I'd rather be sleeping.  I'd rather be crying.  For both it takes all I've got to resist them.  The things that might normally seem small and insignificant are magnified hundreds of times today.  My mind gets bogged down with why I'm not beautiful and why my husband pays me little attention and why my child often seems detached from me and why we never seem to have enough money to just make it.  Normally, I'll rationalize those fears away and clear my mind onto more positive ponderings.  But today I'm just rolling around in them.  It's weakness, I know--this giving in to the self-pity.  Exercise would  help.  Taking a shower would help.  Calling a friend would help.  Getting up off this couch and interacting with life would help.  But I'd rather just stay right here for a little longer.  I'm still and the whole world is moving at rabbit's pace around me.  I just can't muster the energy to care.

To analyze myself, I'd have to say that these are the ashes of issues I thought I'd burned from my past.  They were much darker and stuck around for longer when I was younger.  I should know better now.  I should know not to give in.   

So, I'll pray.  I'll pray even though I don't really have the words to say.  I'll pray for strength that I don't have.  I'll pray that I can see myself the way Jesus does.  I know he thinks I'm beautiful, even now.  I'll pray for my relationship with my husband.  I'll pray for my connection with Carter.  I'll pray for all our needs to be met as the economic world falls apart.  I'll pray for the fears to leave and normalcy to return.   Then, I'll get up and go take a shower.

My First Adventure in Poop

There are some things that you think only happen in movies.  The rationale is that only Hollywood could create something so disgusting that it's funny.  But today, the disgustingly funny came to my life in the form of a poop adventure. 

Each morning I'm awakened by the sweet sounds of my son babbling to himself over the baby monitor.  As I lay there listening, resisting the start of the day, Jeff says to me from the ironing board, "That baby probably has a diaper he's wanting to get out of."  We didn't know how true that statement was.  So, I get up and slide my feet down the hallway and before I even get to his door I can smell it.  I have ZERO affection for changing poopy diapers as it is, but the smell coming out of his room is far worse than any other diaper aroma I've ever experienced.  But, I know it's unavoidable.  I go in.  The smell is almost alive, knocking me to the side.

Carter is standing in his crib with a big smile on his face, as if he knows what I'm about to see and he's feeling a little proud of his creation.  I'm walking slowly forward with a smile on my face so Carter won't know how distressed I am about what I am facing.  I see it.  I know that I cannot be the sole witness to this mess, so I call in a small voice, "Jeeeeeeff."  He says, "What?" I say a little louder and with a little more urgency, "Jeeeeeeff, you gotta come here and see this."  He walks in, buttoning his dress shirt and stops.  He can't see it yet, but he smells it.  "Oh my God Carter, did ya' have to stink up the whole house?", was his reaction.  He comes closer and understands.  

There is poop everywhere.  It is in little puddles of brown on his light blue sheet.  It's on his bear's head, and the bear does not look happy.  It's smeared in 3 places up the side of the bumper cover.  It is on his beautiful Pottery Barn Kids quilt that normally hangs neatly on the side of the crib.  It is on his cute little matching pillow.  His blue dot blanket that he treasures is wrapped around him and through his legs.  It is covered in brown spots.  But, most of all, it is all over my smiling baby.  

Diaper?  What diaper?  That diaper did NOTHING to stop the avalanche of sludge escaping his body early this morning.  It came out between his legs and went south.  It came out the back the diaper and went north clear to his shoulder blades.  He had it on his arms and his legs and on his feet.  His construction pajamas were only a shell of their former whiteness.  Somehow it all had to be cleaned up.  Thank God I have the loveliest, nicest and most helpingest husband in the world.  He lifted Carter out of the crib, told him good morning and kissed him (brave, right?).  I grabbed a disposable cover for the changing pad and we laid him down.  Jeff took off the pants and I took off the shirt, tossing them into a plastic bag.  I took off the diaper that was solid poop from front to back and side to side.  No wonder it had given up the fight.  We lost count of how many wipes it took to get everything solid off of Carter so that I could carry him to the bathtub.

As I walked down the hall to the big tub, I could smell his hair.  Oh my, it was IN HIS HAIR.  Thankfully, Carter loves baths.  So, he was getting excited as I filled his little tub with water.  So excited that he PEED all over me.  Perfect, I thought.  Just perfect.  I cleaned up Carter and I took Carter back into his room to get him dressed and found Jeff taking everything off of the bed and putting it into a trash bag.  I knew I'd need to wipe down every slat on that crib before anyone touched it and somehow get the smell OUT of that room, but for now we had made progress.  Before walking Carter into the kitchen for breakfast, I brushed his teeth...just in case, you know.  Then, we all sat down for breakfast together to the sound of the washing machine.  What a shitty start to the day. HA!

The Fitness Journey

Before I got pregnant the first time, I was in pretty good shape.  The best I've ever been in, I'd say.  I've NEVER had a hot bod by any stretch, but it's felt pretty good to live in.  Then, having a miscarriage frightened me away from any physical exertion.  Out of running, working out and yoga, I only stuck with the lame yoga for pregnant chicks DVD for the first 2 trimesters of my second pregnancy, then it was lay around and wait to have a baby.  After having Carter, I only had 7 extra pounds to get rid of, which I didn't think was that bad.  But, little sleep and eating whatever and whenever took my weight up instead of down.  I'd read that at 6 weeks you can start exercising again, and if a book says it's ok, I generally go with it.  Lesson:  Listen to your body.  I did a full yoga session anyway and thought I would DIE.  Really, though.  I was in hurting in places that I fully expected to be hurting, my heart was racing and I was having a hormonal sweat.  I'm sure I did more damage than good that day, but I thought, "I've just got to get back on the horse."  But, I didn't.  I didn't really do anything active consistently until Carter was about 7 months old.  As a reward, I reached pre-pregnancy weight at about 9 months old.  

If I could make it there, I could go farther.  At 1 year I've lost another 8 pounds.  I feel so ready to step things up and get back to a strenuous activity level, but I'm finding that my body won't let me.  Each morning (except Sunday) I put Carter in his stroller after breakfast and we walk almost 2 miles.  Lately, I've jogged a bit.  At first, my legs weren't very strong and would start getting tired and force me to walk again.  Today, I decided that I would start off running and run the entire way.  To my frustration, my lungs and airways gave out before my legs did.  I had an asthma attack.  When I was young, I had exercise induced asthma.  I really haven't had problems with it in a long time, but then I haven't pushed my body and my lungs the way I did today.  It was a beautiful day, I felt great, I ran about 3/4 mile and then BAM--the burning, the airways closing, the gasping for breath.  I wanted to cry.  I have the motivation and I'm making the time, but my body doesn't want to cooperate.  I did a little reading on the condition and the treatment, aside from prescription drugs, is to walk.  

Dreams

For the past few nights, Jeff and I have had some strange dreams.  Where do these things come from?  Our thoughts, our fears, our hopes?  It seems like all those things wound into a place in our minds where nothing makes much sense.  

Jeff had a dream that Carter died and we had a little girl a while later.  The dream was at the hospital on the day of her birth.  Since then, I have been so aware of each move that Carter makes.  I'm more careful when I drive.  I cut his food into smaller pieces.  I jump if he coughs.  Whatever that dream sprang from, it translated into some very real fears for me.  I know that would be the biggest pain I'd ever have to face, so there's part of me that imagines that dreams come from a place of some truth.  Possibly as a warning? Now I feel like it's my job to watch Carter like a hawk should there be an ounce of truth to it.

Last night I had a dream that I think sprung from my difficulty to trust anyone, including Jeff.  We were in a crowded auditorium, which I think was the auditorium where we hold church, but 3 times the size--Eastside high school, and we were fighting.  Apparently I had caught Jeff looking at porn.  The most frustrating part of it was that I was crying and obviously hurt about the situation, but Jeff was laughing through all his words in the most disrespectful and uncaring way.  I kept getting more and more upset, but he was unaffected by my emotions.  He didn't care that I was hurt.  I woke up feeling as if it had just happened.  I was on the verge of tears and I felt so insecure.  I tried to talk to Jeff about it and he tried to make me feel better, but I can't shake it.

Sometimes I wish that I could escape dreaming.  They may start as thoughts or images, but they make their way into our lives and change who we are.

What is up with me?

Does anyone else ever ask themselves that?  What is UP with me?  It seems I've spent most of my 31 years chiseling away at this little comfort bubble that surrounds me.  I'm comfortable at home, with my family, with myself...but not with much else.  I suppose it's just the personality that I've been given--I'm an introvert.  I've never been much on speaking in front of others, and I find myself on some days not wanting to speak much at all.  But, it comes and goes.  Most of the time, I can muddle through being a sociable person and no one really notices.  It's an act I've perfected in the last 12 years or so since high school.  Then, I was the quiet girl.  I hated that, so I vowed to make a new start and a new me.  I think I did pretty well.  I can make friends and be in a group...and with no time or money spent on counseling (ha ha).

It's on those days that it "goes" that I'm asking myself that ever-so-serious question: Mandi, really, what is UP with you?  Take for example, a little outing that I went on last week.  Each Wednesday morning I take Carter to a playdate with some other kids his age.  It gives him the chance to be around other children to develop some social awareness and it gives me a chance to get out of these four walls and talk to other moms who are going through the same life issues that I am.  Most weeks, I LOVE it.  I like these people and we have a lot in common.  But this week I don't know what was going on.  It seemed like every word that came out of my mouth was so completely random and without much merit.  And, I could hear myself from inside my head with this annoying little echo.  Talking seemed so out of place on this day.  I tried to coach myself from the inside: "Come on Mandi--say something intelligent or halfway interesting", "Why don't you try smiling", "You're not being very perky--perk up, girl!"  But I was stuck inside awkwardness and self-consciousness and childishness.  Honestly, I think GROW UP and SUCK IT UP.  I'm afraid it usually just comes across as my being snobby or uninterested, but that's not the case.

It is sadness that brings these days of inner quiet on?  I don't think so.  I don't feel sad.  I really am so happy with my life on most days.  In thinking about it over the last few days, I think it's just who I am.  Not everyone can be the life of the party and some of us are just meant to listen sometimes.  I'm ok with that.  

At least I think I'm fooling most everyone.  I've tried to tell some people that I'm really pretty shy and quiet.  They think that isn't possible for a teacher.  Teaching is different, though.  I relate it much to an actor on a stage.  When I teach in front of a room filled with children and their little eyes and their little ears absorbing it all, I'm acting out a role in my life.  When I have on that hat, my voice is different.  I can sing, dance, act silly, read with feeling, talk intelligently (usually), show affection and emotion.  Maybe I just need to learn to translate that into other areas of life.  As my friend Robin says, "Just do it on behalf of yourself"

On a not totally separate subject, what is UP with people who feel the need to spill their entire lives and deepest secrets upon first meeting?  I guess I, of all people, just DO NOT get that.  I mean, don't you have some veil of intimacy that we need to get past as friends to be able to spill some of that stuff?  I'm sure I feel that way because whenever I get to the point that I feel I can talk about myself on a personal level to someone, I always feel somewhat guilty afterwords.  Did they really want to know all that?  Am I forcing them to carry a burden of knowledge that they weren't ready or willing to take on?  

Ah, it's like another job to me--something I have to work at every day.  Relationships, conversations, connecting, friendships--all work, but all definitely worth the trouble.