Spirituality

December 2, 2010

I don't know why that's the first thing that comes to mind, the first part of my life I want to tackle. Maybe it's the season, maybe something weighing on my mind.

I'm Catholic. Well sorta, I mean, I am Catholic, I went through RCIA and everything. Let me see if I can explain.

My religious upbringing was, well, scattered. My mom was raised Baptist (I think) and my dad was from a very strong German Lutheran family. They went to a Methodist college in rural Missouri. I was baptized something, not sure what, and don't remember going to church much at all as a child.

My brother and I went to a Lutheran summer camp for years as children, not because it was Lutheran but because it was one of the few sleep away camps that had programs for special needs children like my brother.

I remember candlelight services Christmas eve when I was a child, they were beautiful. We went to some church, lit candles and stood outside in a circle singing songs. Easter was about the Easter bunny and getting a pretty new dress. I don't remember church, though it was possible.

I do remember going to a Lutheran Church once, might have been Easter? It was interesting but once they started the communion part, my mom got upset and made us walk out.

As a pre-teen, my mom decided I needed to start going to church. Or more precisely Sunday School. So my dad would wake me up, make me get dressed, drop me off at Sunday school, and pick me up before Church. I remember this screaming fight with my mom on whether or not I was going to wear a mini skirt (my first) to Sunday School..> I was 12, the skirt barely was above my knees. (Umm my mom would roll over in her grave if she saw the length of the skirt my daughter wore to Catholic school) But I digress. I was confirmed Methodist sometime around then.

I spent a year at an Episcopal boarding school in 9^th grade – again not because it was Episcopalian but rather in spite of it.

Flash forward a few years, I was almost 18 living with a pseudo foster family in the deep deep south. They were Pentecostal…sorta. They were deeply religious…sorta. (there's that word again!) They belonged to this church lead by "Brother Ted". From what I understood, the church wasn't a part of any organization, wasn't sanctioned or overseen by any governing body.

Having never been around this type of church, it was so very odd. Services started at 9:00 a.m. Sunday and went to past 1:00 p.m. Then you had to be back at 5:00 and that service went into the late night. Wednesday night too! The services started out okay, about an hour or so of singing, but then it was hour after hour of this man SCREAMING at the top of his lungs into a microphone, fire, brimstone, everyone was going to Hell. Women would fall down, speaking in tongues they said, it was all quiet a circus.

That wasn't the problem.

The problem was the people.

The women would come and preach against anger, violence, of docility and love…and go home and beat their children black and blue.

The men of this church would talk about fidelity, family, God and country, and stop off at the bar on the way home, and then their girlfriends.

The pastor spoke about the need to give, you weren't a real Christian unless you tithed, gave more than you had, your children went without food so the money would go in the offering ….to buy Brother Ted a new house, pay for his brand new Cadillac.

The church preached about love, forgiveness, how everyone was a brother..as long as you weren't black, weren't Jewish, weren't anything other than one of them.

God forbid I said anything. Judge not lest you be judged. I couldn't question. You know, that's fine. That was their way. That was what they wanted, I guess.

But they judged me. These men, with women on the side, their own family beaten into submission, had the audacity to judge me. This young street kid who dared to wear jeans and wanted to go to college, who wasn't looking for a husband or wanting to settled down (my foster sister had her first child at 15) ..I was evil incarnate. Their goal was to force me to submit, make me see the error of my ways; make me into one of them. Mmmmmm Not. They lectured me, at least two full sermons (screaming for hours into a microphone) were directed right at me…wicked children become wicked women and are the entire reason for evil in this world, Satan and Eve musta been my best friends. (Oh and don't get me started on their stance on women in general!) They prayed for me, prayed over me, prayed behind my back. I was never quite sure if they were praying for my deliverance or for me to get hit by a car!

After awhile, I got wiser. My foster family realized they weren't going to change me. I made a deal. I understood that I was required to go to Church, but I wanted to go to a Church of my choosing, something closer to what I believed (or was comfortable embracing). They finally agreed. As long as I was in Church, attending however many services were required/expected. Hence my introduction to Catholicism. In and out sometimes in 45 minutes, once a week, you're done. Since I was not Catholic, attending Catholic Church meant I didn't get roped into any major commitments. Besides, I don't remember there being a Lutheran Church anywhere I think I didn't like the Episcopal one for some reason.

More importantly, Catholic was as far opposite as the Pentecostal church as I could get.

When I left my foster family, I can't say I went to church much after that. A few times, with friends or on the holidays I might but really not.

Flash ahead to my daughter. Tiff's biologicals were Catholic, sorta. She really hadn't been to church much until she went into foster care. Her foster mom before me was apparently a rather extreme Baptist or Penacolstal…Tiff wasn't allowed to watch the Lion King because (to the foster mom) the scene depicting the baby lion being held up and the other animals bowing was blasphemy because there was only one true God and kneeling to anything else was sacrilege. So she was happy to get away from that.

My best friend felt that Tiff should be exposed to religion and started taking her to church. Jeannine was Episcopalian then, now I think she's Atheist, but the closest church was Lutheran. I had Tiff baptized in that Church.

When we moved across country after Tiff was adopted, for a lot of complicated reasons Tiff was going into private school. As this was mostly pre websites, I had researched and found a private Lutheran School and enrolled Tiff. She stayed there two years.

After that, I wanted to find a new church for her. She was starting 6^th grade, an age when many churches really stop having good youth programs, except Catholics. I found a great church near our home with amazing people. This was our home for many years. Tiff even had a year of Catholic school. I went through the RCIA program, was confirmed and we made it to church most Sundays (course it helped that Church was a half block away.)

Then Tiff got older, I loved sleeping in, church became not so important.

I believe in God, I just don't know that I believe in religion. That said, I love the traditions and the rituals of Catholicism, they give me peace and structure far more than the chaos of other churches.

I did have Z baptized after he was born. But he's only been in church a few times other than that.

He's two now.

I want him raised in Church, I just haven't made it a priority. Yet. We've also moved, I need to find a new church. The parish we are in is a very very Asian area and the Church has over half their services in Vietnamese or Spanish. There are other chuches sorta nearby too. I need to start going each week and trying a service. Maybe we will be lucky and find a new home.

Charley thinks it too early. Z is not anywhere close to sitting quietly an hour. But if we don't start now, when will he learn?

But why do I feel the strong need for Z to be raised in Church when I don't feel the strong need to go if it's just me.

Maybe I just want to give him something that I was not given? Maybe I want him to have faith.

More Thoughts

December 1, 2010, part two

So I've thought a lot about my earlier post. I need to make changes; I need to be who I want to be, I need to find who that person is. I think the first thing I need to identify is what areas of my life I want to change, what I am doing that I want to change, where I want to be, and how I'm going to get there. I have a dear friend who has fallen on hard times as of late. I am always asking him where does he want to be, how is he going to get there. It's one thing to make a goal, it's another to set forth the steps necessary to meet it. And, before you make a goal, you need to know what you want to change.

So here, generally, are the areas of my life—sorta the compartments. I will add to these and narrow them down over the next bit. I will also analyze each and try to decide what I don't like, and what I do, and how I can fix it. These are not in any order, though honestly, I guess maybe they are.

Family

    Relationships with my girls
    Relationship with my son
    Relationship with my husband
    Relationships with others

Career

    Am I doing what I love?
    Am I doing the best I can?
    What paths lay in front of me
    How do I balance being the breadwinner, desire for career, and being a mommy and wife?

Financial

    Debt
    Student Loans
    Savings/Retirement
    Spending

Home

    Organization
    Things like cooking/food issues (complicated will explain later)
    Hubby wants to buy a house, I'm not as sure

Spiritual

Health/Fitness

 

The times they are a changing

December 1, 2010

I don't remember when, or how, or why, but one day I woke up and really realized that I wasn't happy. Not that I was expressly unhappy, I just didn't like who I was or where my life had gone. I've never really talked to anyone about this, a few times with hubby, sorta, but not really. I'm not sure when I stopped being happy, and I'm not even sure I know why I'm not happy.

Don't get me wrong – I love my family. I love my daughters and could not live without my baby boy. My husband is my best friend, I adore him; he is the first person I look for in the morning and the last person I think of at night.

It's more where my life is, what I have done with it, what I have not done.

How do I know I'm not happy? I have no zest for life. I go to work and exist through the day, just waiting for the clock to say go home. I go home, and exist. I have a few glasses of wine, some nights maybe more, hang out for a bit, wait until my son goes to bed, veg out watching tv, wait to go to bed, toss and turn, get up tomorrow and do it all again.

I exist. That's it.

I have been a lawyer for ten years. The past several years, I have really done nothing. I started out good, people thought I was going somewhere, my name would be known, you'd read about me. I think I started out on the right path but somewhere went left instead of right. Or maybe even took a u-turn. I earn less money now then my first year out of law school, have less responsibility, I exist. My name is not known, no one cares. I'm the one that shows up and everyone says who are you.

I saw a job opening recently, not that I am looking, but it was a great opportunity. I didn't even bother. I am simply not qualified. There is nothing I can point to recently that would impress anyone, least of all me.

After ten years, other lawyers have gone on to partnership, trials, things that they really enjoy. My cousin who is a year older is a judge, another cousin, a year younger, a partner in a large law firm. Me, I exist.

After the accident, in 2004, I learned to live with pain. It's not so bad now, still there. But I went from being in the best shape of my life, to the worst. Baby weight that won't go away, extra pounds from when I quit smoking, probably a few extra pounds from those few glasses of wine.

I have almost no friends; I don't call those I do have because why would they want to hear from me? They have lives, exciting things, my life is boring.

I have almost no money in savings, owe debts up the wayhoo and my balance on my student loans is increasing, I haven't made a dent while most of my peers probably have paid theirs back completely.

This isn't how it was supposed to be. I had goals, aspirations, dreams. I was going to accomplish something. Somewhere along the road, I let a few bumps hold me back. I took the safe way, not the hard way. I learned to exist.

My husband is ten times the parent I am. He is ten times the spouse.

I am not the lawyer, the wife, the mother I wanted to be.

I exist.

And I'm not happy.

And you know what? It's my own damn fault.

The only person who can change this is me.

I need to decide, do I want to be happy, or just be.

In a month, it will be 2011. A new year, a new start. I need to decide how I am going to change, what are my goals and how am I going to reach them. I need to stop thinking of what could have been and look to what is, and what will be. It's not too late to change, it's not too late to make me into who I want to be.

It's not too late to be happy.

So its my time, 2011 is my year. I am going to use this month to decide how and what I'm going to change, who I want to be, where I want to go.

I don't actually think anyone reads this blog J LOL, who would, after all who am I? But I am going to try to use this as my log of my attempts. We will see. If anyone does read this, feel free to chime in, I need all the help I can get.

I just want to be happy again.

Scary world

Don't know if anyone saw on the news the shooting at the elementary school here in San Diego. Guy randomly goes into the playground of an elementary --an elementary --school and empties his gun into a crowd of little kids. A six and seven year old were shot, thankfully only grazed with the bullets.

You hear about school shootings in high school, kids who are bullied etc and that is scary enough. But what kind of evil or insanity could cause someone to shoot at a bunch of little children? A 6 and 7 year old?

I hate that my child will go to school behind locked gates and fences but on the other hand am so thankful that the schools take these precautions. I get emails from Z's new school talking about when what gate is open and after those short times, you have to go through the office. On one hand, that just seems annoying, if I am running late that makes me more late. But now, I not only get it, I am thankful for it.

Apparently at the school where the shooting occurred, a parent previously sent an email concerned about security due to an unlocked gate. It is just sad that we even have to consider that and look at our schools to see how some wacho could get in and harm our little ones.

So much for innocence in childhood, now while we teach our kids emergency procedures, earthquake drills, tornado drills, fire drills, we need to add shooting drills. Okay, Johnny, heres what you do if some starts shooting. . . . Very scary, very sad.

Okay, rant over.

Expensive lesson

Did you ever want something so bad you could taste it?

My dad bought me the first gen iPhone for Christmas in 2007. I LOVED that phone, got me through many sleepless nights up nursing when Z was born. But like most electronics, the iPhone moved on, got better, newer, and mine got out dated and the battery started to die.

This year they announced the new iPhone 4 was coming out a DAY after my birthday. I started to want it. I yearned for that phone, a new phone that wouldn't die within an hour of being unplugged, newer and better cameras, more apps. Of course, my birthday came and went and since we didn't pre-order it, I had to wait.

A few weeks ago, my hubby took me to the AT&T store to buy me an iPhone. We ordered it and they said it would ship in 7-10 days.

I got on line DAILY (okay, more than daily, maybe hourly?) to check my status. When it shipped I was ecstatic. I tracked my phone across the US and when it was to be delivered, went home at lunch to see just in case I could be there. I was. Last Friday I took my brand new toy that I had lusted after for months out of its box. I proudly unwrapped it, activated it, played with it. I was in LOVE. I couldn't wait until the weekend to explore my new prize, learn all its intrcities, and fall even more in love with it.

Saturday morning we were to go see some friends at the park for a play date. We were running late, I popped my new phone in my back pocket while running around gathering up my stuff. Ran to the potty really quick too since I didn't want to use the one at the park.

Had to hurry up and pee quick, late late late.

Started to wash my hands, leaned over to flush. . ..

and at the bottom of the bowl was my new phone.

:(

O.M.G.

Tried to turn it off, shook out water. It spend days in a bag of rice only to be no more.

What to do, visions of replacing my phone at the cost of $600, of having no phone for ever, horrible sad thoughts of not having a smart phone raced through my head.

I jumped online and found insurance, and quickly bought that for $100 but then I couldn't make a claim for over 30 days. I tried to think about no phone for months. Wow, I was devastated.

On Tuesday, hubby thought about getting me a prepaid phone so at least I had a phone, I ordered one and had it delivered, that was $50.

Then I realized that the insurance had a $50 deductible, and there was no guarantee they would pay my claim, when I finally got it.

I was soooooo sad. My new toy, my baby. I was out of luck

My phone did come on a bit, nothing where I could retrieve any data, but it did come on. I went to Apple's site too see if they had any suggestions.

GUESS WHAT!! Apple actually has an out of warranty plan where I could get a replacement phone for the $199 I paid for it. Upon further research, the Apple stores actually have a stock of phones for replacements--even while people are waiting weeks for back ordered phones.

So, I did some math. The insurance was $100, the deductible was $50, my prepaid was $50-- for one month. If it took a few months to make the claim I was stuck with a different number, a POS cheap phone, and no guarantee that I would get a new iPhone after all that if they realized the phone broke before the insurance went into effect.

My attempts to get a new phone were likely going to cost me over $300 --or I could suck it up, go to apple, pay $199 and walk out with a new phone.

Today, I am the proud owner of a brand new (maybe refurbished but who cares) iPhone 4, the insurance is processing my cancellation and should refund my money, now I just need to see if I can cancel and return the prepaid phone!

Oh I am a really happy camper today, if not somewhat more broke.

WWYD?

I have a friend, a really really old friend. This guy was one of the best friends I ever had twenty years ago. It was a very odd friendship--he was something like 15 years old then me and I was twenty years old.

Jack would have done --and did --anything for me. He had very little but what he did he shared. He was a great friend, made me happy when I was sad, fixed my car, made me laugh. When I left Georgia for Ohio I cried most of the way there because I knew I would miss him. When I moved to California for law school, one year he sent me what I am sure was his last $300 just to make sure my daughter had a Christmas because I had nothing for her and no money.

He had a crush on me I think, feelings that were not shared, but he was an amazing friend. When Charley and I got together, I sensed Jack was jealous. We stopped corresponding not long after that. I thought that Jack had always held a torch for me, and once I was in a long term relationship, it was too hard for him to continue the friendship. That was almost 10 years ago.

I didn't hear from Jack for years. . .every now and I again I thought of him and it made me sad that I would never hear from him again. I had no way of getting in touch with him. I knew he had moved on from Atlanta to start grad school but I didn't know where or what had become of him.

In May of 2009 I suddenly get a message from him on MySpace. He was ALIVE. But he had gone through HELL. He had started grad school but dropped out when his mom died. He had crashed and burned after that, two heart attacks, four strokes. He's been homeless, in a psych hospital. All kinds of issues. He was on disability, had issues walking but was able to sometimes to a computer at the library.

Another friend had supplied a prepaid cell phone and we started texting back and forth. Calls were hard because he had trouble talking after his stroke. . .and I am not a big phone person given I am usually at work or chasing a toddler. I started adding minutes to his phone so we could text since otherwise we couldn't. Every two months or so I plop 20 bucks on his phone...works.

So Jack has major issues, he gets disability, they take a couple hundred out of his check for defaulted student loans, another couple hundred for medicare. He barely has enough to cover rent, almost none for food, and cannot work yet since he cannot walk more that 20 feet without sitting down.

I have sent him a few pizzas over the last few months but Pizza's are not real food. There are times, like this last week, where he texts me that he only has a box of mac and cheese and oatmeal to last a week.

I want to help him but how? Did I mention he is back in Georgia and I am in California? I looked for grocery delivery where I can send him groceries but the small town he lives in doesn't have that capability. I looked into food bank things, like Angel Food--but there stuff is freezer food and he doesn't have a freezer.

He had asked me for a messenger bag if I ever thought of it, for when he takes the bus to the library, this week I got on Amazon found one cheep, and sent it. While I was on there, I checked out their food supply and sent him a bunch of Healthy Choice mixers -- they are shelf stable foods that we have in our pantry. I sent him about $80 bucks worth or three six packs of various food. Shipping was free through amazon since it was over $25. I was really proud of my self for thinking of that. . .and then I realized that those were microwavable. Quick text --nope he doesn't have a microwave in his small efficiency. So I jumped on Wal-Mart, found a $30 microwave with free shipping, and sent that as well. Kinda didn't have a choice because I had already ordered the food. Sigh.

I know I don't "owe" this guy anything but really I do. Jack probably saved my life more times then I can count, he was a life raft for me at a time I was at the bottom of the bottom...he kept me from slipping over the edge so many times. Having a friend like that made me believe that life was worth living. . .my life was worth living...when I felt that there was no future.

Today, I am doing the same for him. He ranges from suicidal to depressed and apparently a text from me makes him go on. He has to do exercises for physical therapy, and I am working with him on doing those so he can get better and go back to work. I am trying to help him as much as I can. . .but I know too well how hard moving forward can be when your belly is empty.

So how can I help? How can I make sure he has nutritious food? Sending money doesn't really help, he doesn't have a way to the grocery and can only buy what he can hold while riding a bus. . .and using a cane. He needs a ride to the store, someone to help him buy the food, and a way home. He only has a tiny fridge, no freezer so needs shelf stable food. How do I get that across the country to Georgia?

I feel so bad. What can I do? How can I help?

Second thoughts. . .

I think I am having some second thoughts. . .well not really but still . . .

Today I dropped off the last of our paperwork for Z to start preschool in November. He is going to the French/American school and will start the Monday after he turns 2. Yes, I said 2. so in just about 4 1/2 months.

It is a great school and Charley and I have talked about and planned for him to go there since before he was born. We were so excited he was accepted, we took the application process seriously, not knowing how much competition he had.

Its going to be a great experiance for him, I really strongly believe in teh value of bilingual education and really want him to have that opportunity. I love the school, that is not the issue, and since they pro- rated the tuition since he won't start until November, its great.

So what are my second thoughts?

Is he really going to be ready in November?

The 2 year old classroom (PK0) is filled with all kids who are at least 2 by December 2010, they are allowed to start on their second birthdays. So there will be kids there who turned 2 in January.

I know there is going to be developmentally appropriate activities but Z doesn't sit still, or listen really good, or even play nice right now. The time we observed, all the kids were sitting nicely at tables doing crafts --something Z is really not capable of doing now.

I am sure between now and November some of that will change. I am also sure he will learn to behave better and I know that even if he stays were he is, he will have that same sorta structure at his current day care when he ages up to the 2 year old class.

I know this is the best option because if we waited until he was three, he would not have a year of language exposure like he will now.

I want to push him to exceed and fulfill all potential, I just don't want to push him to far though. He is still my little baby boy.