Nothing Gold Can Stay

Despite loving poetry and writing my own back in the day, this is the only poem I have ever been able to recite from memory. What I find amazing is that I haven't thought of this poem in ages. And I certainly wasn't thinking of it today or even when I decided to write this long overdue post. I sat down with thoughts swirling about what I had intended to write and how that may or may not relate to the tragic events of today. I sat down... and I immediately began to type this poem.

Then I went and found a picture to make it more aesthetically pleasing.

What's amazing is how the mind works, because this poem is perfect. I mean, truly perfect. Few things in life are. Few things in life can depict an emotion, especially emotions of sadness and heartache in a beautiful way. These words tie together thoughts I've been having recently with the senseless elementary school shooting in Connecticut today. They remind me there is beauty all around us, even when the world feels full of ugliness.

Lately, I've been looking at my kids and realizing how "grown" they have become. My 3&1/2 year old says things everyday that make me realize how much her little head truly comprehends and just how quickly babies become toddlers, toddlers become kids, kids to teens and young adults and grown children having children of their own.... and all of a sudden I realize why everyone says "enjoy it now, they grow up so fast".

All mom's of babies and toddlers, especially if their little ones aren't good sleepers or are otherwise difficult, hear those words and shudder. On some days you wish you could knock out the person saying it to you without ending up in jail for it. The problem is, those words are so true. It's the truthfulness of those words that is scary for me right now. I feel like by the time I get these toddler years figured out the next phase of life will be here and I'll have missed out on those years that were driving me to the brink of insanity. It's hard not to just try to get through the day sometimes though. Sometimes it feels like that's all you can do.

Then I hear my daughter say something that makes me go, WOW, when did she learn that?! Or she tells me she's going to write an "R for Rylie" and I'm waiting to say "that's AWESOME" to the little scribble mark she makes and tells me that it's an R when I look down and see a circle with two lines out the bottom, like my first R's resembled on the papers in my childhood memories box. I excitedly praise her in amazement, while inside my heart sinks a bit as I realize once again, you can't go back. She will never be my baby that I rock or nurse before bed. Time will forever more forward. Children will always grow. And we really only have today, each day, to soak it all in. Nothing gold can stay.

As I've been "chatting" about all this with myself and working to remind myself to let each day sink in, to not simply get through it, but to live.... I came across a news post that says there's been a shooting at an elementary school. Immediately I remember my freshman year in college, holding a magazine, Time or People or one of those, and looking at the faces of the victims from Columbine. I remember my heart hurting as I read about those kids, who were my age. I remember reading about their hopes and dreams, what their lives were like, their college plans.... I remember how senseless it all was, the loss of life. I remember how everything changed in schools after that. How we said such a thing would never happen again. We were prepared to prevent such tragedy.

How little we learn. How soon we forget. Today isn't the first school shooting since that one that changed it all. I doubt it will be the last, no matter how much I pray it would be. Sick people will always find a way to do senseless things, to take innocent lives, which will alter the course of so many lives. When you think about just how many lives are impacted from events like today, the ripple effect from such a tragedy ultimately changes every last one of us. It makes parents look at their children and realize this can happen anywhere and every time you send your child off to school that could be the last time you hear them say, "Bye, I love you Mommy!". It makes many, parents or not, question our gun laws, which I will not do here. It makes everyone stop, even if just for a moment, and remember to tell the people they love that they love them.

Sometimes I think such senseless acts of violence occur, or even accidents that no one can predict or prevent, for this reason... to make us stop. To remind us to love. To remind us to live each day like it really is our last.  Because lets face it, you really and truly just never know if it is. If you're a regular reader here, you know I believe there is a reason for everything and I am always determined to find a reason for even the most horrific of events; a reason that leaves me with hope for humanity rather than resentment or hate. While deep down I do believe awful things happen to remind us of what life is really all about and to see the beauty, I'm not sure today is the day for me to seek my reason. Or more to accept what I already believe in my heart.

Today, my heart aches for the parents who can never hold their babies again, whether they were still a child or an adult. My heart aches for the children who will never hug their mom or dad again. For the wives, husbands, partners, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends.... for all those who lost someone they cherished and never in a million years thought that when they woke this morning, and perhaps yelled at their child to brush their teeth or put their shoes on because they were running late or were annoyed at their husband for not changing the toilet paper roll again... that today would be the day they never would see their loved one alive again. My heart simply hurts for these strangers today and I see no reason for them to have to endure such pain.

Today is one more reminder that my kids really are growing up much too fast for me, that time is this elusive concept I can't seem to wrap my head around these days....


And I just had to take a break from finishing because my 3 year old, you know, the one who is growing up much too fast, just decided to poop on the kitchen floor after she peed her pants because she couldn't tear herself away from the play dough to go to the bathroom. And just like that... the carpe diem moment is over. THOUGH, there was no yelling or freaking out.

This is a perfect reminder of the other side of today.... we will press forward. Those families hurting will hurt....badly. Unbearably so. I can't fathom the pain. It takes my breath away to even try. But those of us watching the horror and holding our kids tight, we will press on. Tomorrow even. For me, five minutes ago as I cleaned up the poop from my floor. We will fail as parents and get up and try again. We will yell and we will be imperfect and we will forget that this moment could be our last. But in the back of my head I guess there's a part of me that always hears those words I memorized all those years ago.... nothing gold can stay.

I will miss this one day. The insanity of it all. I'll miss their innocence and their giggles and cuddles and the wonder in their eyes. I'll miss them needing me to kiss a boo boo or to tell them there are no monsters in the dark... even though I know there are far too many "monsters" in our world. I'll miss the crazy things they say and their singing and dancing and thinking peek-a-boo is the greatest game ever.

I may not miss the poop. Or the fighting. Or the painting with peanut butter while they eat. But at least I have those memories to laugh at someday. There are far too many parents today, and each day, who would love to make such memories again.

It's certainly something I've been thinking about lately. And today solidified that need to remember not to take any of these years for granted. I don't have to love each day, but I do need to remember I won't get that day back. I won't get that time back.

Many prayers to all those who have lost those they love today.

Maybe the Grinch is Jewish

So, a lot of my blogger friends are writing about Christmas or the holiday season. I've actually had this one in my head for a good week and need to get some stuff out of my head so I hope you'll bare with me as I'm not trying to jump on the bandwagon but more just can't find the time to sit down and write these days.

I've also debated writing this because it can be a sensitive topic for some and I've found that many simply don't get it. Many think it's no big deal and I should lighten up or just go with it but I truly dislike this time of year.  I mean, I really, really dislike this time of year. It's like a month of extra anxiety and annoyance and awkwardness that I would do anything to do without. Unfortunately, I can't afford to travel to Israel for a whole month, or nowadays, it's verging on closer to a two month extravaganza.

Let me preface my Grinch-like mindset with some positives. The sights, sounds and smells of this season are without a doubt warm and inviting. Well, minus the incessant Christmas music being played in every shopping mall and the annoying Salvation army bell ringing outside every store that drives me nutty. I grew up celebrating a secular Christmas with a tree, stockings, Santa... the whole nine yards. Sometimes I went to church with my dad or step dad's family. I even would partake in the traditional Christmas ham dinner! Before I stopped eating pork of course. I loved the lights and feel of Christmas and was the typical kid who would leave cookies out for Santa and try to listen for the patter of Rudolf's hooves on the roof Christmas Eve night.

We didn't start lighting the candles on the menorah until I was about 15 or 16 and really pushed the issue. The Chanukah prayer was the only prayer I knew until my later 20's actually, when I pursued learning about my heritage and more actively practicing my religious traditions on my own. It wasn't until then that I really got an uneasy feeling about this time of the year. It was then that I realized why I grew up celebrating Christmas... it was simply easier to be like everyone else than to be different or look different. Christmas is EVERYWHERE. You can't hide from it and you certainly can't shelter your non Christian child from it. Since my dad and step dad were both raised Catholic and no one practiced Judaism in my family after my grandma got sick, it was simply easier for my mom to "go with it". But now it feels disingenuous. It's not my holiday. I feel it's almost insensitive of me to celebrate it towards those who celebrate for it's religious significance.

Despite what my husband thinks during Jewish holidays, I'm far from a "perfect" Jew, whatever that might mean. I married a non Jew though he agreed to raise our kids Jewish. I rarely get to Temple anymore, I rarely light the Shabbat candles, I forget many of the prayers I learned and I sure can't read them in Hebrew as I've forgotten many of the letters. I do my best to teach my kids at home. We say the Shema every night, have been reading a story from my daughter's Children's Torah most nights since October, I make things like chicken schnitzel and latkes at Chanukah, we have have a Passover Seder and I fast for Yom Kippur, I don't eat leavened bread during Passover, etc. But super strict, not so much. Not as much as I would like to be anyway.

So, many probably look at my interfaith family and lack of a strict Jewish home and simply don't get why I refuse to put up a tree, hang pretty lights or teach my kids that Santa will climb down our chimney and bring them toys if they are a good girl and boy. Many don't get why it irks me beyond words can describe when people give me Christmas presents, especially wrapped in Chanukah paper. I mean, give me a freaking Chanukah gift or a Christmas gift, don't combine the two that have absolutely not a damn thing to do with each other! Now, if Chanukah falls during Christmas, that's different. No matter what I appreciate the thought, but in general, Christmakkah is idiotic. I despise the idea. For one, Chanukah isn't even a religious holiday. It's not considered an "important" holiday in fact, because it's not in the Torah. American Jews made it more "important" so our kids wouldn't feel so left out at Christmas leading them to resent being Jewish thus potentially making them more inclined not to practice and/or convert when they got older.

Two, they don't always occur simultaneously, like this year. I could go on, but the bottom line, the two holidays are seperate and should remain that way. Just my take. I don't judge those interfaith families that do it this way. Putting Chanukah ornaments on a Christmas tree just is not for me . Who knows, maybe the kids will beg me to do it one day and that will be my compromise. It'll probably still bother me but I'll do it and smile and take pictures just like I do every Christmas, because I love them.

I hate what Christmas has become. I feel bad for religious Christians that such a special holiday has turned into a circus. I can't just get on board because the smell of sugar cookies are so inviting and warm cinnamon and apples, whether from a candle to give you a cozy feeling, or actual cider make me smile and feel good inside. Of course I love the idea of the "season of giving". I'm a giver! I simply don't feel a season is necessary or even something that will ultimately better mankind. The season of giving needs to be year round, not because a religious holiday turned into a consumer wasteland of greed and wanting more and more. I mean, people freaking DIE being trampled for the hottest gift of the season! That's absurd! Outrageous and infuriating actually. I'm not Christian but I'm pretty sure Jesus wouldn't want that all in the name of celebrating him.

I'm sorry but I simply can't just get over that my kid will learn about the religious aspects of this holiday because people turned it into a secular holiday. No, I don't like when government buildings put up trees. I don't like it when they put up menorahs either, mainly because it feels fake. But also because there are so many religions that it's not possible to recognize each of them in such a way, but that's not the point. Lights on street lamps are pretty and making the cold, dark winter months light up and bring some warmth and joy is a wonderful thing. We all need to beat those winter blues! Santa's and reindeer on the lamp posts, that my tax dollars pay to put up I might add... yeah, that makes my blood pressure go up.

I get annoyed when people ask me if my kids are all ready for Christmas or ask them what Santa is bringing them this year. They just assume we celebrate and it's very awkward for everyone when I say we are Jewish or we don't celebrate Christmas. Yes, I must specify that we don't celebrate becuase just saying we are Jewish isn't always enough, people still will assume we celebrate Christmas at home or comment how a Jewish friend of theirs would put up a tree. I don't care what they did, we don't! It sucks trying to explain why my daughter is terrified of a big blow up Santa at gymnastics because she has no idea who the big fat man in a red suit is! The kids get Christmas stamps and stickers freely put on them as a reward or have to endure Christmas music if I am forced to take them with me to almost any store.

My heart beats more rapidly when someone says Merry Christmas to me. Yes, I admit it. It bothers me. It's like wishing me a happy birthday in June. My birthday is in November. It is a meaningless wish and only serves the person saying it and last I checked when you wish something good for someone the well wishes are meant for THAT person, not yourself. I have no problem wishing my Christian friends and family a Merry Christmas. I want them all to enjoy their holiday and be blessed with wonderful memories. Oh, and for the record, wishing me a Happy Chanukah at Christmas when Chanukah is over is ridiculous... and annoying. This year Chanukah will be over two weeks before Christmas so it will be even more annoying! Just saying.

These things may seem minor to someone who celebrates Christmas or even non Christians who have the "go with it" mentality but it's very difficult to unteach these lasting impressions from my little sponges. Heck, I can still belt out all the Christmas jingles if I had to. They can be fun to sing too. I'm not denying that. But again, it's not the point. Rylie told me the other day something about Jesus being born. I've been preparing myself because I know they are doing a Christmas service at school and the songs they are singing are religious, not Jingle Bells. She goes to a Presbyterian preschool because other than an all day, 5 day per week Montessori program it is the only preschool around that doesn't teach religion as part of their day to day. Tis the plight of the Jew in an area with few Jews. I had to choose to pull her out of school for the month or "go with it". I hate it, yes, I used the word hate. I hate it. It makes me want to cry. Homeschooling is not for me. I'd go crazy, really and truly crazy. So, it is what it is.

For me, it's a matter of how to make her be less resentful of being Jewish during this toy driven, Santa obsession, exciting time of year. I mean, lets face it, lighting a menorah and spinning a dreidel just doesn't compare to the flair of an Americanized Christmas with all the lights, tinsel and trimmings. Not for a kid anyway. Yes, they get "Christmas" at Grammy and Grandpop's and at my Dad's. Though, this just makes it more stressful for me. More explaining. Explaining the same thing to the adults every. single. year. More explaing to the kids as they get older and understand more. More freaking toys to step on in the middle of the night, to clean up, for them to fight over, that I need to buy batteries for or give away because I can't find a damn off button. It's insanity. It's overwhelming. It's annoying!

So yes, I will openly admit, I'm the freaking Jewish Grinch and I can't wait for December 26th to arrive.

Update: This is not directed at any one person. It's simply me venting my frustrations of the "holiday season". These are things that have happened many times over the past 8+ years by many people known and unknown as well as complaints I've heard from others. It's as simple as that.

Detachment

It's been WAY too long my friends. I had planned to write about my labyrinth walk on my birthday but then my birthday went to shit after that, thanks to a little thing called vodka. Now, it's 8 days later and I've now spent the weekend studying the Yoga Sutras and meditation, sans kids and husband I might add! Yes, this is the first time on my own since my kids were born. And yes, it's awesome... though it's quiet and I do miss them, it's awesome.

Anyway, my head is spinning with insights and information, as usual, and I'm not sure where this one will go because there are so many things I would love to share after such an intense and wonderful yoga filled weekend. One thing I keep coming back to is how I always felt like I've been searching for something my whole life. I really remember feeling this more around the age of sixteen, which I think I mentioned before, but I've been in my head asking questions about everything for as long as I can remember. Why are we here, why am I here, what's my purpose, how can I help make this world a better place, the place it was meant to be, and on and on, and on......

So, this thing I keep coming back to is that every time I find myself on a path towards more self awareness and inner peace I am always in awe at how each path is intertwined with the same exact message. From the self help books I read as a teenager, my counseling classes and learning about human nature/behavior, to delving into my religion and learning about Judaism and now focusing more on yoga, it really is ALL THE SAME in so many ways. The message is the same, the goal is the same.

We are here to reach our full potential and in doing so, we can make this world as it was meant to be. Everything is for a reason and we are all connected. We truly are.

That's a loaded statement, I know. It's no wonder I gravitate towards such paths in life. I "get it", I just have a hard time getting there and holding on so I keep searching for the "thing" that will help me hold on to this fulfillment I seek. There are many paths I could take discussing all this in a more philosophy sort of way, or a yogic way I should say, but to be honest, I don't want to freak anyone out. It can all get a bit "out there", for lack of a better word. So let's stick with a realization our teacher helped me come to today about myself.

One main reason I decided to do my yoga teacher training was to find more inner peace. My hope was to find this peace which I believed would enable me to better deal with living with my alcoholic husband, or to find the strength to leave by accepting he won't change, if it came to that. I felt this peace would help me to not to be so angry all the time, to not flip out and say mean and awful things and think even worse mean and awful things when my husband drinks. As I've said, I feel this anger is changing me, even starting to define me. I feel guilty for getting so angry because it's just not who I am and I don't like this angry person. Also, as a side effect from my goal of inner peace was to be a better mother, to provide my kids with a more emotionally stable environment.

While discussing the Yoga Sutras related to detachment this anger came up, and my inability to not get angry, and more so my lack of desire to not want to get angry. I want to be angry at him when he drinks because I think it's something reasonable to be angry about; something I should feel angry about and even say mean things to him because of. I feel it's a normal reaction to the situation, just like crying when a loved one dies. The thing is, I thought my anger was the problem. I thought my anger was causing my physical pains and the knotted muscles which my massage therapist simply can't fully work out no matter how often I find myself on her table.

What I realized today is that it's not my anger at all. My anger is OK. It is reasonable and it doesn't make me a bad person or even someone I'm not. It's my GUILT over feeling I shouldn't get so angry or say and think such mean things that's causing me all this pain. I mean, really, I am always in physical pain or simply feel nauseous or have a headache. But it's not the anger I need to detach from, it's the guilt. I need to allow myself this natural human reaction of being angry when a loved one lies to you, manipulates you, doesn't think about the safety of your children and refuses to work on reaching their own full potential in this life. It's OKAY to be angry about this. It doesn't make me a bad person and it doesn't have to change me or who I am.

So, this detachment thing just became so much more clear and easier for me. I need to detach from the guilt and let myself be human. I need to let the anger just be but not let it bother me or consume me. Be angry, but don't let it burn me. It sort of reminds me of the symbolism of burning bush Moses saw. The flames were there but they didn't consume or burn the bush to ashes. The bush remained in tact; whole. I can be that bush. At times I may be a flame of fire but when the time for that fire has passed I can be whole again.

This is an incredibly freeing realization. It's one my Rabbi tried to help me see over a year ago around Yom Kippur when I worried about not wanting to apologize to my husband for the mean things I had said. I knew I had hurt him but I felt an apology was futile because I would not mean it. He essentially told me this same thing. Maybe I just wasn't ready to hear it. Whatever the case, I am grateful I was ready to hear it and accept it now.

As always, this doesn't solve the very basic issue of my husband being an alcoholic and all the issues that go along with that when it comes to our life BUT, it does enable me to detach from these things and to continue on my path of peace and happiness. It enables me to continue to seek my full potential and to be a better mother. When it comes down to it, isn't that what we all desire?

Namaste my friends....until next time.

Yoga Sutras
Part 1
15. Non-attachment is the full knowledge of one's true nature, abiding as the seer, without clinging to objects of experience or objects described by others.

16. The higher form of non-attachment occurs when, due to identification with the eternal Self, one does not cling to the primary cosmic forces of creation.

Kriya Yoga Continuing the Lineage of Enlightenment by Ryan Kurczak

Like

I remember when the word like became a filler and like you would say it like when you didn't like know what else to say like, so yeah, like that. Thankfully, using like in that valley girl form has faded into mere memories, that make me cringe and laugh simultaneously, of my younger years.

I can't help but think each day how society has now taken that little four letter word that used to just annoy me when used so frivolously and turned it into the guru of all words! Because I'm someone who gets hung up on words and their meaning and what others think a word means AND how all these meanings often lead to massive misunderstandings in both online and "real life" conversations, those conversations we all used to have before online chatting and texting became the norm, I can't help but analyze how people now define this seemingly simple word we all know and love.


Definition of Like: This was the shortest I could find!

1. like/līk/

   Preposition:	Having the same characteristics or qualities as; similar to: "they were like brothers".
   Conjunction:	In the same way that; as: "people who change countries like they change clothes".
   Noun:	Used with reference to a person or thing of the same kind as another: "the quotations could be arranged to put like with like". The things one likes or prefers.
   Adjective:	(of a person or thing) Having similar qualities or characteristics to another person or thing: "I responded in like manner".
   Adverb:	Used in speech as a meaningless filler or to signify the speaker's uncertainty about an expression just used.
   Verb:	Find agreeable, enjoyable, or satisfactory.
   Synonyms:	preposition. as conjunction. as - as if - as though adjective. similar - alike - equal - analogous - same - even adverb. as verb. love - please - fancy - want - be fond of - wish - relish

Did you notice that part of the definition above includes the valley girl version of like!? Awesome. I wonder when that was added to the definition. I can't imagine it was always there. Anyway, what does like mean now? Well, I've complied a list. Feel free to add to it. It can be like our own little time capsule of 2012 all dedicated to what I feel I can safely call the world's most used word!

Additional definitions of LIKE in the 21st century....

Thank you
I'm sorry (to hear that)
Feel better soon
I saw this
I agree
That's awful
That's funny
That's great
No way?!
Cool
Awesome
Congratulations
Mazel Tov
I'm happy for you
Beautiful picture
So cute
Awwwww
Oh Man
That sucks
Wow
Got it
Oh
Interesting
Yikes
Oy Vey!
No problem
Yes
Will do... to whatever the request was that you just clicked "like" for, such as a prayer. Yup, a prayer just requires a simple click of a button now folks and God gets all those "likes" because God is good like that and can adapt to anything and then miracles happen! Pretty powerful word there, huh?

"Like" can raise money, give hope or encouragement, boost an ego and even make people who are told they are ugly feel beautiful. It can let the world know how cute you think a puppy is, what politician, musician or food you like and my favorite of all, that you love your mom, spouse and kids! Yes, yes, all you have to do to make sure everyone knows you love your kids is click a button. Awesome.

I wonder if someday they'll use that as evidence in court. Like when a parent is tried for the unfathomable act abuse or killing their child will they check to see if they clicked "like" for all the posts that told them to "like if you love your child"? Will that provide reasonable doubt? I know, I'm being silly, but seriously, this nothing surprises me anymore!

Another favorite of mine.
I mean really, who doesn't wish this??

Like can even can mean LOL, LMAO, SMH and a number of other text codes I still have to google to find the meaning of! I swear, I'm not that old, really.

While I may be poking fun at Zucker's world and how his brilliance managed to further reify this simple word into seemingly endless meanings, I will openly admit I'm a big fan of clicking "like". It really has simplified life for me as I can express all these things and let people know I care or am thinking of them even if I can't seem to find the time to call or visit as often as I used to or want.

As a former therapist I have obvious issues with this too because I worry for our current generation and future generations who may not learn proper communication skills or how to interact with fellow human beings without an electronic device in front of them. Or more, it'll just make us (more) lazy. I find myself wishing for a "like" button when I text because I don't feel like typing a few words back which would say the same thing as "like"! I can go even further than that. Sometimes I even hear myself say "like" in my head during a conversation because that's as far as I would go if the conversation was taking place online rather than face to face!

I think without the ability to communicate effectively we are doing ourselves a colossal disservice that can negatively impact every aspect of our existence. Yes, every aspect of our existence. Is "like" that powerful? I honestly think so. Or it could turn out to be...if we aren't careful. Like I said, I'm a like clicking machine but I try to be very aware of what my "like" might mean to others and to clarify if necessary. I also use it to follow up with friends by having actual conversations. On that same note, I tend to drop the ball often and my "like" is my prayer, my congrats or my hug to someone who needs that physical hug I am not around to give.

Ultimately, I have a love/hate relationship with the click of word "like" these days. Often I wish like could go back to just meaning, "I like you" or used for a comparison or even just be used as a valley girl filler word.

As we all know, nothing in life can go backwards. We are always ever changing, moving forward, evolving, and like it or not, such is the beauty of life.

If that last sentence was a status,
I would "like" it!

Three Random Things

So, there have been three things about my son over the past month that keep popping up in my head. They are totally random other than the part that they all relate to my son. They are also seemingly not a big deal but rather a prime example of how I can over-think  over-analyze and otherwise keep my chatter going at 300 mph just for the sake of staying insane. Oh, and for the sake of always trying to find meaning even in the tiniest of things. So, I thought I would share, because what else am I to do with it all but dump it out for you to read!?

1. I recently accepted that my "perfect" little baby has officially entered his terrible toddler years. I say "years" because I learned the hard with with my daughter that the terrible two's are not just a year long insanity trip but the start of my journey to the insane asylum.

My always smiling, sweet boy has discovered the word "NO" and likes to use it a lot. He also has discovered that dramatically throwing himself on the ground, screaming and kicking, when he doesn't get his way is part of the master plan to drive mommy bat shit crazy before she reaches 40. Thankfully I started scheduling appointments around preschool time so big sis was at school during his most ridiculous fit yet.

He thought he was getting a treat after his well check because he has just been there with dad the weekend before for blood work and daddy treated them to Starbucks cake pops after getting their arms jabbed with needles. He climbed into the highchair as I waited for my coffee and sat so nicely. Unfortunately it was the morning so there were no cake pops yet and nothing that would really work as a treat on the fly. I offered lots of other cool things like watching Barney in the car, his music shaker and going or a walk. I said "NO" and shook his head to all of the above. So, I wrestled him out of the highchair and started my trek to the car with my hot coffee in one hand and my purse, little lunch bag for milk and him on the other arm kicking, throwing himself back and screaming no, no, no.

All I could do was laugh as everyone who walked by gave that, oh you poor thing look of better you than me. We stopped four times so I wouldn't drop him on his head. Who am I kidding, I just didn't want to spill my precious coffee! He'd lay on the ground kicking while I readjusted all my crap and off we'd go again. It sounds awful but it really was pretty comical. Now, if it was my daughter acting like that I would have lost my mind and been all pissed off the rest of the day. That's that favorite child thing I guess. Or maybe this yoga stuff is working. Either way, we survived the boys most hellacious tantrum in public to date. Yay me. And once again I have confirmed my perfect baby boy is growing up and my dream of him skipping this oh so fun stage has 110% been squashed.

End of a tantrum. Can you see his black eye?
See #2 about that!

2. The boy has had many nicknames since his birth. My husband has this thing for making up crazy names or words. Some have included C-love and C-money. Bubs, Lubs (as in a combo of Bub and Caleb) were common too and one I hated from Grandpop was KK. But it seems one has finally stuck. Lumpers. Sometimes it's "Lumpy" but yes, I said Lumpers. As in lump. As in, this kid knocks his head off something daily and always has some sort of lump on his big ol' noggin. Aside from his already lumpy noggin which is how a derivative of this nickname originated when he was an infant.

He often has some assistance from his sister in obtaining his daily lumps. Most recently, he ended up with a lump on the head, and a black eye to go with it, in the 5 minutes it took me to get dressed. I still have no idea what happened. Five days later at his well check discussed above, his doctor checked around his eye bones, presumably for a skull fracture! Good grief. I worry every week that his preschool teachers are going to think we abuse this poor kid! Ironically, it's Rylie, who "lumps him up" as Daddy calls it, is the reason this nickname has now stuck. His sister calls him lumpers all day long. I say "Good morning, Caleb". She says, "Morning Lumpers!" When she plays with him I hear her say, "Here you go, Lumpers". "Want to play with my, Lumpers", etc.  She informed her teacher yesterday, "That's Lumpers!" She asks me if Lumpers is up from nap yet. So on and so on.

It's funny because when deciding on our kids names we considered if their their initials would spell/represent anything funky, like HGH for example, which is one reason we didn't go with Grace for Rylie's middle name. We considered possible nicknames family, teachers and friends could come up with that might make one might say, why on earth would you name your kid that, do you hate them?! What does my Caleb become? Freakin' Lumpers. It sounds like a boxers nick name. Or what you might call a street kid who uses his fists to solve problems instead of his words! Meanwhile, it's his sister who knocks the crap out of him each day. Oy!

So, I of course over-think it and wonder if it could lead to bad this down the line. Especially since his daddy used to have no qualms about using his fists back in the day. Will people think the wrong thing about this sweet little boy and will that transform him into not being so sweet? I mean seriously, what sort of sweet kid has the nickname LUMPERS growing up?! Ok, enough of my overthinking mommy freak out over something as silly as a nickname. You get it, right?

We still have no idea how he got this one!

"best" lump yet.
Compliments of big sister

3. Moving on. This one is the least significant of them all yet has the most meaning to me. The boy is without a doubt left handed. While I know it's not really solidified until about 5 years he has been predominately left handed his he started using his hands with purpose. I would set the fork down in front of him to test it and even put it towards his right hand, which he would simply switch after the first bite or so. I've watched him climb stairs, which is supposed to be more of an indication at this age than his hands and more often than not he goes left foot first.

I personally think it cool. While it's not exactly unique, it does make him a bit different than the average Joe and I like different. It's also not very surprising. Everyone in Craig's immediate family is left handed, or was before someone forced them to switch as a kid. But the part that makes me love this about him is that my Pap was left handed. If you have Yahrzeit (click to read) then you know why this means so much to me.

As I learn more about yoga and concepts like reincarnation creep in, which I read about many years back when I was really into different religions, it makes me wonder about this seemingly little thing of Caleb being left handed. This might be a bit much for you, but I like to think that when my Pap passed just a few months after Caleb was born, a part of his spirit stuck around and now shines through in my little boy. The nurses let us sneak the kids in to say goodbye to him and he kissed his great grandson and held his hand just hours before leaving this world. So maybe, just maybe.


Now, I honestly don't know if that's how reincarnation even works! Yes, of course I know hand dominance is genetic based, like most things, and that such genes are formed long before birth. And yes, yes, he easily could have gotten this left handed thing from his daddy too BUT, as I said, I like this idea. This idea that it's my Pap's presence is beautiful to me. It's like the connection I always felt to my grandma through my inability to describe why I always knew I was a Jew, in more than the ethnicity part of it. I smile as I think that something as simple as having to always consider where Caleb will sit during holiday meals will forever keep my Pap's spirit at our Thanksgiving table. It's that same feeling I get when I light the Shabbat candles and I feel the presence of my grandma lighting them with her mom as a kid and then with her kids.

Pap holding Caleb at his Bris,
about 3 & 1/2 months before
he passed.

This thought of my Pap's presence always being here brings joy and peace to my heart. It's something I can share with Caleb as he grows up, so he can know my Pap even though he's no longer here. He isn't just tied to him because we named him the Sandik at his Bris, my Pap is a part of him, always. Whether this is why he is left handed or not, like anything a person believes, it's simply a matter of believing it in your heart that makes it true or not. And this is what I choose to believe.

As I have said so many times before, I always look for meaning in even the seemingly smallest or insignificant things. I over-think and over-analyze but sometimes it helps me, like this time.



Like I said, three random things with just my son as the common denominator!!

Mind and Body, Body and Mind

Wow! It feels like ages since I sat down to write. I've needed to but I just can't seem to find the time. I actually don't really have it now but I'm choosing to write anyway, for me.... to help me focus. And for you of course, but I'm not sure if this one will resonate with you all as much as some others have. I hope you can take something from it though.

My head is spinning with thoughts and revelations, ah-ha moments and quite simply lots of information. Almost too much information. I get excited, super pumped actually, like when I would start a new class in college or grad school and my mind would take off like I siphoned red bull right to my brain. I start to get all sorts of grand ideas and run away with them in my head, the possibilities seem endless and it's like the world looks new again. Then I become overwhelmed by it all and get a bit stressed. And round and round we go!   My yoga teacher training has been quite a whirlwind.

My big ah-ha moment came in class this week when discussing how to deal with the often intense emotions that can be forced out during a yoga practice. I nearly fell out of my chair! I had never told anyone that I get an overwhelming sense to cry during my practice at times. And here were were discussing how to deal with this, and other intense emotions, when they arise in one of our classes. Not only is it common but it's expected. I'm not crazy, hallelujah!

I'll admit, I never really delved into what yoga is really all about until I started my teacher training. I did my own practice for sometime and then went to classes for many years. I often had extended hiatuses from the comforts and joy my mat brings me but I always found my way back. Sort of like my faith, it called to me, it was in me. As I said, the actual poses came very naturally to me so I was just psyched I was so good at something without really trying all that hard. Oh my, oh my, not only do the poses go so far beyond what my mind can even comprehend my body ever being able to do but the poses aren't even a fraction of what yoga is really all about! See why my head is spinning? And there's more, much more.

I'm a bit behind the others in my class on this revelation, but I'm catching up fast. Well, it's more like putting the pieces together then catching up. I've always been a believer. I believe in a holistic approach to things. Even as a therapist this was my approach. A systemic approach to healing, not piece by piece, which to me doesn't repair the bigger issues but simply puts lots of bandaids on things, leaving you vulnerable. The mind and body are infinitely intertwined in how one effects the other and this has been proven to me time and time again. Though I'm always learning just how profound this connection is.

For example, I recently came to the realization that massage therapy is actually therapy. It turns out all my pains are a result of my stress and anger and anxiety which essentially builds up all sort of "junk" in my body.  That junk started to settle in and cause pain, specifically in my shoulders and a bit in my hips at times. The "junk" has a more medical term but for the sake of blogging, I figured junk works and it's what my massage therapist likes to call it too. Anyway, limiting and reducing the pain in my body has made a remarkable impact on my mental health. Go figure. Massage and my asana yoga practice help deal with all the physical junk which in turn helps my emotional junk and the wheels on the bus go round and round.

Well, the pains came back. The chiropractor helps some but it's the massages that really do the trick. And now, my yoga training has enlightened me to the marvels of essential oils. They make so much sense in this holistic approach to life I think is important. The sense of smell is powerful. It can conjure up memories of childhood, life events, happiness, sadness and every other emotion on the spectrum. If you think about it, many people who don't put up Christmas trees still buy evergreen scented candles, people who don't bake, may use an apple spice or pumpkin scent, and so on. Scents conjure up memories which can release deep emotions and deep emotions impact  well, everything. They can make or break us. Not only that, but the things in nature these oils are extracted from are there for a reason. Everything really is here for some reason or another, whether it's a food source, to provide oxygen, to cure us, everything exists and is dependent upon one another for all of our survival.

Oils go way back. You hear about them in the Bible. Some people may start there but for those who don't, like me, the people from biblical days got the ideas for their use from somewhere. Thus, oils go way, way back. And in many ways, people from way, way back were a heck of a lot smarter than we are today. Not in every way, of course, but they definitely got the whole everything in the world is connected and here for a reason piece of things. Oils cured ailments long before modern medicine and for many they still do today. So, I am starting to add these oils to my healing and life improvement box and hopefully they can help my mental state so the "junk" doesn't keep coming back. And maybe, just maybe, I can not only be pain free but free myself from this anger I often talk about here as well.

The way I see it, I need to do something. Something more. Some might think, oils, really? Why not just leave. Well, I feel that is the absolute last resort. Maybe it'll be necessary at some point, but until that day I can't live like this. Recently, I started wondering if all the frustration and anger I feel so often over my husband's alcoholism is changing me. If it has changed me. I worry this change might be permanent. I have to do something. Mood stabilizers might work in the way their name implies, stabilize my every changing mood, but it's one of those bandaids really. If my anger is actually changing me, my brain, by body, whatever, then I need something that can bring me back to me. I need something to jolt me back in that moment when the situation makes me lose my freakin' mind. And something that can stop the subsequent spiraling of everything making me lose my mind.

Some might think this natural medicine and holistic approach is silly business. Don't get me wrong, I'm not on some la-la-lu cloud or believe that everything about westernized medicine and pharmaceuticals can be likened to some evil empire. Some of it can be though. Bottom line, this is 2012 and I am well aware of the wonderful advances of modern medicine. We as humans have done remarkable things that enable us to not only cure but we have medicines that can provide people with a quality of life that generations of past didn't even dream of. I simply don't think everything is necessary and try to me mindful of what I'm putting in my body and why. That said, I happily accepted that handful of Xanax the doctor gave me this week, but for emergency use only. While I think all those momma's who do home births or go to a birthing center and use a midwife and/or doula are inspiring women, I will always consider an epidural to be my best friend. I'm a big ol' baby when it comes to pain and see no reason to be in pain if one doesn't have to be. I won't even suffer through a headache. I have too much to do and being in pain is quite frankly no fun for anyone, especially not with two loud little ones running circles around me. But, a pill will not fix this situation for me.

A pill won't take away my anger. The way I view things can. The physical practice of yoga can. Taking care of my body can. Being mindful of how I think and what I think and just being can. Being still. Being still in my thoughts can help bring me back to me. And some therapeutic massage and oils can only help in this process. I find the combination of the ways of our ancestors with the ability God gave us as humans to evolve, and use our past to transform things to work for us today, to be a blessing. Blessings don't always just appear before us, we have to be open to them, open minded to all the world has to offer. I for one will not give up or accept things as they are. I'll search and fight and try anything that can work to help make this one life we get as fulfilling as it can possibly be. One thing I know for sure, anger does not pave the way to a fulfilling life.

So, I'll keep on my yogi path. I'll keep learning and growing. It's a path that is more immense than I ever imagined yet so simple in many ways. When you make everything more simple well, everything just becomes easier. Profound, I know.

I am... 2.0

So, I tried this yesterday and realized after I read about 20 others that I was REALLY down on myself. Since the "rules" of this self love exercise are no editing and proofreading I felt I owed it to myself to sit for 5 minutes today and write a 2.0 version. It's the least I could do for ME, right? The, "I suck" one is still available, deleting would be editing of course, but you can ignore it. I'm thinking I might do this once each week. Just for the much needed morale boost I so often need!

I got this idea yesterday from You Know it Happens at Your House Too but as I clicked through links to other blogs I saw an origination point at Jana's Thinking Place and many "I am" posts at the end of hers. Click the picture to read....

I hope, whether you have a blog or not, you will try it out and post your response in my comments! It's actually quite therapeutic, which is what this little blog is all about :)

The rules are pretty straight forward....
1. Set your timer for 5 minutes. I'm good setting timers in this house for the many time outs experienced daily!
2. As I said, no proofreading, editing, etc. I'll be honest though, I'm going to cheat just a bit because I suck at spelling and can't deal with mucho spelling errors in one of my posts. I'll get all sorts of anxiety and end up proofing it and editing it altogether and being a big rule breaker so just a quick spell, I won't edit. Promise.
3. Post it somewhere, somewhere just as a reminder for you is great, but I of course would prefer you post it right here and share it with us!
Oh, you can write an into, obviously not part of the time limit :)

K. Got it? My timer is ready. Nope, wait, daughter just snagged my phone.

Ok, now we are set.....

I am a mom. It's the hardest thing I've ever done but boy do my kids bring me such joy.

I am a wife.

I am a daughter. My mom is my best friend and the one person in my life I can always count on.

I am a friend. If you're my friend, my true friend, I would do anything for you. I may not talk to my true friends often but they are always in my heart.

I am loyal to the people and things I love.

I am passionate and will fight with all I have and yell from the mountaintops if I feel an injustice has occurred

I am compassionate and feel empathy for everything, even those nasty little spiders I squash or the sad faces of the opposing team losing.

I am a proud Penn Stater.

I am a person who believes if you set your mind to something you can do anything. Or nearly anything. I overcame an eating disorder as a teenager and have never looked back.

I am someone who gets angry easily but I am working on it everyday.

I am a yogi.

I am a Jew.

I am a dreamer and a thinker but given the chance I will do whatever it takes to put those dreams and thoughts into action

I am always striving to be a better me. It's what I think life is all about.

7 seconds left, yikes.... I am growing. An old motto from recovery days... I am free to be ME!

Your turn! And yes. I am definitely going to make this a weekly thing. No, I won't fill my blog up with 3.0 and 4.0 I Am posts but this is too wonderful. We must love ourselves if we are to love others or be loved.

I Am......

I just wrote to you all yesterday. One from the heart that I put all my emotion into so I had planned to take a little break. BUT I came across this little self love challenge and well, I'm always up for a challenge, especially when it can help me on this little quest of constant self improvement.

I got this idea from You Know it Happens at Your House Too but if you start clicking through the links you'll find this has been a wonderful pass it forward sort of thing so I hope, whether you have a blog or not, you will try it out and post your response in my comments!

The rules it seems are to set your timer. I'm good at that as we have a lot of time outs in this house. There is also to be no proofreading, editing, etc. I'll be honest, I'm going to cheat just a bit there but only on the spelling, I won't edit. Promise.

Ready, set, go.....

I am an AWFUL speller. Thus my cheating. Which I often did to pass spelling tests as a child. Probably why I suck at spelling.

I am a mother. I often feel I'm not a great mother. Certainly not the mom I thought I'd be. BUT I try to be better each day and some days I do a pretty darn good job.

I am a wife. If you read my blog then you know I'm not always the best wife and my marriage has its issues. Moving on...

I am a daughter. My mom is my best friend. The one person I can ALWAYS count on.

I am loyal. I wasn't always.

I am a good friend but lately have slacked in friend duties and can't remember the last time I spoke to many of the friends I hold in my heart. I need to be better at that.

I am a yogi. At least I try. I'm great at the physical practice. A work in progress on the rest.

I am a person who loves people and always strives to see the best in everyone. Sometimes this can be a fault but I love it about myself.

I am passionate. There are things I believe in strongly and I fight for them with all I got.

I am a Penn Stater. Always and forever.

de-de-de-de-de-de-dede, de-de-de-de-de-de-dede. That would be my phone alarm :) So I am done.

Post your I AM..... below. Would love to know you are even if I already do!


PS- I just did my cheating thing and NO spelling errors!! AWESOME. yay me!

PPS- not many of you saw/read this. That's good. I didn't live up to this challenge very well. Some self love! I was such a Debbie downer, geesh. It's been a week. Wait, it's only Wednesday. Yeah, exactly. Anyway, check back for my 2.0 version tomorrow! I think this is a perfect thing to do everyday for oneself...no worries, I won't post one everyday! Night all.

To Believe Them or Not

I'm one of those people who is always searching for the good that can come out of horrific situations. Sometimes even desperately trying to find the meaning of it all. If you're a regular visitor to my little blog here then you've read this before, you've seen the positives I can derive from otherwise tragic events. It's sort of my way of understanding the evils and sadness of our world, without needing a straitjacket to cope with it all!

We are quickly approaching a year since we learned who our once local hero, highly respected, fun-loving, family man and humanitarian whose efforts to help the underprivileged youth of our state would rival the likes of Mother Teresa, really was. I continue to peel away each layer of intense emotion that continues to engulf hundreds of thousands of us in the aftermath of learning of the horrific acts Jerry Sandusky committed. As such, I have tried to focus more on the good that can come of this, because to me, that's the only way for a community to heal, is to find the good and run with it. 

A brief time out.... 

If you are questioning how I can feel so intensely and take it so personally or maybe think I shouldn't feel such a way or that feeling such a way somehow takes away from what his victims endured and what they and their families will have to live with their entire lives, then I feel happy for you. Truly. If you think these things then that means you have never had to deal with a tragedy in your community or family. You are lucky and fortunate and should feel blessed. It means a child was never kidnapped from your neighborhood, a student at your school never committed suicide or was in a horrible accident that took their life or left them with a permanent disability. It means you never found out your priest was abusing boys, a gunman never shot up your workplace, school or movie theater. It means that your neighbor was never that serial rapist the policed warned you about or a teacher you loved dearly was sleeping with a student. It means you never knew, admired or respected someone that turned out to be evil reincarnate. It means you never lived in a small town with a family like feel that endured anything truly horrible. You are blessed and that makes me smile. I never wish anyone to understand why this has had such an impact on our community or on me personally.  

End of time out....

So, I search. I try to understand how this could happen; how someone could fool EVERYONE, from his coworkers to close friends, the boys he actually did help and didn't abuse, to judges and the governor and even the President of the United States. How did he do all this despite multiple claims made of abuse to a school counselor, principal and even the police? How could a school counselor tell a scared child that he was not abused and the man he was accusing was a good man, tell his mom it would be best not to report it and the school continue to release the child to this man despite his parent forbidding it? How do the police sit in another room and hear rather incriminating evidence and not think anything of it? Why were so many victims not believed? 

I don't have a desire to get into the Sandusky case. Quite frankly, that would require me to sit down and write a book after the abundant research I've done regarding it. My goal, as a parent first and Penn Stater second, is to find the good that can come of his crimes. Yes, good can come from even this. In fact, it must. That starts by understanding how things like this happen to begin with. I read this from a fellow alum after many of us watched the Dr. Phil episode on Friday...

"One thing about all of the "outing" of victims stories right now is the common thread of a child not being believed. There is a school of thought that a child in the foster care system or split home environment wasn't believed when speaking of molestation or abuse. I have witnessed children placed in a controlled school or group home after they spoke up of this type of issue. This was done because it was felt the child was not believable and needed therapy or other guidance. Also, there were always those that might have believed the child but didn't want to get involved due to all of the legal ramifications. The real travesty is the thought that a child's voice isn't a true voice regardless of their home environment."

The real travesty is the thought that a child's voice isn't a true voice.... Powerful. huh? I thought so too.

As someone who worked with abused children for years, combined with my counseling background, this is what I know... it is quite common for kids to not be believed, especially if their claims are against a prominent member of our society with an impeccable reputation. The adult will always trump the kid in these instances. It's simply the truth. Such an adult will often even trump the child's parent, should they believe their own child, which many don't. Kids from lower income or "nontraditional" homes of any kind and minorities are very rarely believed as well, especially over an affluent, respected, white man. This is quite simply reality. Right or wrong, it's reality. As ironic as this may sound, kids who have been abused in the past are often not believed should they accuse someone else of abuse or more severe abuse. There are many valid reasons for this and again, right or wrong, that is simply what I've seen and learned, sometimes the hard way, as I've been fooled more than once by an imaginative child! 

Some may think this is inherently wrong; that a child who claims abuse should always be heard and it should always be reported and investigated. As a parent, my knee jerk reaction is to say, ABSOLUTELY. Then as I started to become as self righteous as the best of them I was reminded of something I know well. I was reminded of why I would always stop and think and try to look at the bigger picture when I was out in the working world, working with children, especially abused children. What was I reminded of? Children, no matter the age, have some vivid imaginations. For the record, many adults too! Some kids let their imaginations run wild because it's simply part of their developmental age, learning and growth. Some are seeking attention. Some mix things up in their head, maybe from things they've heard, seen on TV or even dreamed and in an attempt to figure it out they create a new story of events in their head. Some have learned to embellish things from their parents or friends and like to see what comes of telling wild stories. It's why we teach our kids about the boy who cried wolf from a young age. Or, at least why we should teach them this story... over and over and over until they fully understand it.

I was recently reminded of this when my daughter got in loads of trouble for pushing her brother off the couch. I mean hard. The boy landed a good 2 feet away! I snatch her off the couch and put her in a timeout. She was behind the big cushion and pulled away as I growled at her that she needed to sit for being mean, hurting and pushing her brother. After her timeout, I asked her if I hurt her arm, explained that it was an accident and I was sorry if I did. I explained about not fighting mommy when she needs to sit for a time out. She responded... "Mommy kicked me". My jaw hit the floor. I tried to figure out how she could come up with such a notion while I reminded her that no such thing happened!! Imagine if she went to school and told her teacher that "mommy kicked her"? Worse yet, what if the teacher questioned her more and she actually pointed to one of the many bruises she often has on her clumsy little body?! Should child protective services come banging down my door? This is sort of a silly example compared to the specific event that has me searching for the good that can come of it, but a valid point nonetheless. 

So where's the good you are probably wondering? Kid's get abused in some form, they may find the courage to tell someone and then they aren't believed. So, the abuse continues, maybe gets worse if the perpetrator finds out they told, and so it goes, generation after generation. We have child protection laws now. They weren't always in place you know. Like civil rights, children have come a long way in being treated as equal and even human, rather than possessions that is. And like all minorities, our children have a long road ahead. It's one that may never lead to their voices being equal to their adult counterparts for so many reasons, many mentioned above. But they are also a group that can't fight themselves for their voices to be heard. We are the only ones who can fight for them. At the same time, there's a balancing act to consider because false allegations can ruin a good persons life. The court of public opinion can be devastating for the innocent and that, to me, is as much a travesty as a child's voice not being counted as a true voice. True, the adult can defend themselves, in most situations anyway, but once the court of public opinion has given their guilty verdict, then that adults voice becomes as insignificant as the children we must fight for. It's a juggling act really, and in the end there are often going to be losers. That's the hard truth to digest. That is what's unfair. That's what I am having a hard time swallowing because it doesn't have to be be this way, I don't think.

WE as a society can learn to stop, to think critically and not with knee jerk, emotional reactions. I was guilty of this in the Sandusky case myself. I thought McQueary was a scum bag who witnessed child rape and did nothing about it. When in fact, as more and more evidence and testimony has been released to the public, he witnessed no such thing. Am I happy with him for changing his story so many times it makes my head spin? Or that his initial story presented to the public is the one many have based their verdicts of guilt on; the same story that I rushed to judge and flipped a lid over? No. I'm not happy with him at all. I've also never been in his position where my story needed to be strong enough to help put away a serial pedophile. I can't judge him and I don't but I'm certainly not a fan of Mike McQueary. Though like many Penn Staters, I never really was anyway! All kidding aside, as this is no laughing matter, the bottom line is we as a society need to do better. We need to think for ourselves and stop judging each other! Unless we have walked a mile in the person's shoes we are judging then we have no right to judge. It's as simple as that.  

I honestly don't have the answers for how we can stop this innate human characteristic of judgement. I struggle with it daily, as you've read about many times! I do know that through education we are granted the ability to learn how to stop and think though. We can teach our children critical thinking skills. With our ability to obtain information and news with the click of a button and often within minutes of anything major occurring, critical thinking skills are more important now than ever before. Yet it seems such skills are lacking more now than in generations past. Along with our ability to obtain whatever information we desire brings us the ability to become more aware of issues we were previously not all that knowledgeable in. Before we judge based on a headline, we can take some time to truly educate ourselves on the situation or person we are rushing to judge. All that with the same click of a button! Maybe learning comes by understanding child abuse reporting laws, how our legal system handles various allegations and investigations or how others may not have the same rights in our society as we do and often take for granted. The topics are endless. So is our ability to learn. 

I believe that ultimately the good that will come from this particular situation is awareness. Awareness of how many children are abused each day and awareness that abuse is not always perpetrated by who we think. Sexual predators are not just those scary looking men our parents warned us not to take candy from as kids. They can be our coaches, our teachers, our religious leaders, our idols, our neighbors, our cousins, even an older friend and yes, a parent or sibling. In your own quest to become more knowledgeable, I urge each of you to read this article. 

Through awareness comes action. Action is where the miracles will happen. It will be through our actions, not just regarding child abuse and sexual abuse in any form, but regarding ANYTHING, where we can each make an impact. We can donate to the organizations that have the resources to prevent such horrific acts from continuing to plague our society. We can volunteer our time, maybe even become foster parents. God knows our society needs good people to love and care for all the children seeking their forever home. Maybe that's not for you. There's plenty of unwanted, unloved, abused and abandoned animals out there too. Learn about how the media has sent us into a frenzy of fear over pit bulls; a rush to judgment over a loving and smart animal often used as a therapy dog! Maybe do a walk for a cure....choose the disease that most resonates with you. I'm sure there's a walk for it. The call to action is seemingly endless my friends. It is through this action, seeped in awareness and reminding ourselves to stop and think and refrain from rushing to judge others, that we will see the light after the darkness. Any darkness, not just this. 

It's the rainbow after the storm that I am always searching for and if your eyes and hearts are open, you'll see it too. 

Photo taken by alumni, Beth Updegrove. PSU vs Temple 2012

As always, any hate filled comments irrelevant to finding the good that can come from horrific situations, such as Sandusky's crimes, will be deleted and the person posting them blocked. This is still my blog and my self therapy, though I hope it's beneficial to many in whatever way it fits into their personal life. Thank you in advance for being respectful. ~ Jaci

My Honest Imperfections

During the Days of Awe I often find myself a bit more somber than usual. Sure, I have my usual moments of dealing with my husband's addiction that bring me down but as I contemplate my actions, thoughts and especially words from the past year I get down on myself. I mean, crazy down and hard on myself.

I truly try to live in a way that will better this world, in every way I can think of. Whether it be recycling, or just not being wasteful, to teaching my children the importance of respect for all life, from trees to animals and people. I work hard to watch how I speak to people, particularly those that offend me. I work even harder to not judge people, particularly those I consider ignorant, disrespectful or outright mean spirited. I find I often do not live up to my own standards.

I know I'm harder on myself than anyone else could possibly be and while I think I need to give myself some wiggle room for being imperfect as every human is, I tend to be unforgiving of my faults. So, during these days of reflection and making amends and promises to myself and God that I will strive to do better from here on out, I find it ironic to do these things all while treating myself in the exact way I am promising not to treat others!

Every year I realize this unforgiving tendency is one of my biggest character flaws because I do not save it for myself alone but I tend to be unforgiving of most things and people who I feel have wronged me or others. Now, I'm not talking about how my husband chooses to remain ignorant of some harsh realities of our world, particularly politically charged issues, or my step dad thinking that it's too much trouble to recycle when you have people over because there's just too many cans and bottles to deal with, or always having to follow up with people who can't seem to do their jobs effectively. While these things are very frustrating and annoying, I ultimately do not believe such imperfections will make or break us as a race. While these things will all have an impact in some way or form as the ripple effects from a single persons actions can be vast, I am able to forgive these smaller imperfections in others and myself. Well, sometimes myself, but definitely others.

It's the bigger things. Hate is something I find unforgiving, which seems a bit of an oxymoron to me since not being able to forgive someone can often lead to feelings of anger, resentment and ultimately, hate towards that person, including oneself. I analyze this a lot simply for that reason. Though even just cruel or harsh words in the heat of anger...or drunkenness... or anger due to the other's drunkenness is something I dwell on, fester in really, and I can't seem to let go of these situations; to forgive.

My frustration with humanity for too often lacking compassion for others gnaws at me and I find myself unforgiving for our lack of action when it's needed most. Those who look at the homeless with disgust, who look at the mentally ill with annoyance or who judge the unemployed as a collective group of lazy people are examples that come to mind. It's the people who are intolerant of those who are different or whose views are opposing to ones own that I find unforgiving. It's being unaccepting of others whether it's because of the color of the person's skin, their religion or that they do not believe in religion. It's judging who a person loves because they are the same sex or woman's painful decision not to see a pregnancy to term. It's judging those who judge these people because their religion taught them such things are sins.

It's speaking negative of a mom who chooses to extend breast feeding or the mom that exclusively bottle feeds. It's the snide comments about how someone is dressed or considering a person who eats meat as somehow not being a decent human being for that choice. It's turning your nose up to the parents who choose to home school their children or the parents who utilize cry it out as a means to sleep train their baby. Our differences are never ending and the fact that so many people are unwilling to even try to look past these differences or to stop and think for just a few minutes as to the myriad of reasons why others make the decisions they do, believe what they believe or say the things they say often sits and stews in my brain until I become so pessimistic towards my fellow (wo)man that I start to question the point of working to be any different then this myself. A person's unwillingness to even attempt to look through the lens of those who have a varying worldview is simply unforgivable to me.

And then I remember this,
Mother Teresa has been a long time hero of mine. 

I admit I have done these unforgivable things myself. Maybe not often and by no means all of them, but I certainly have judged, I have thought others beliefs were borderline crazy and I have reacted out of anger without stopping to think first. I've thought other moms choices aren't the best, including my own, and I've been unforgiving of myself because of it. I don't always take a step back and try to understand the other side, especially at times when I know I'm right. I have this book titled 'You Don't Have to Be Wrong for Me to Be Right'. I've mentioned this book before but I forget which post it is. I never finished the book and only know the premise of it really, which isn't related to this post exactly, but regardless, I find the title so profound. I feel if we could all live by those words we would all find acceptance for one another, or at the very least, tolerance. First and foremost though, I need to remember to accept myself, with who I am right now and where I'm at on this journey. Only then can I truly accept and be gracious to others.

The problem is, I can't seem to forgive myself for the awful things I think and even say when my husband drinks. I asked my previous Rabbi about this last year around this time and he didn't really have an answer. He agreed that I have a right to be angry and didn't say or even insinuate that I shouldn't say mean things. But I don't think it's okay. It's not me. It's not who I am at my core, I'm not a hateful person but such hate filled, angry and mean things pour out of my mouth when my husband drinks and I can't seem to turn the faucet off once I start. My thoughts in those moments can be even more vile. Some of the things I say and think are horrible to think about anyone let alone the man I'm married to; the father of my children. Regardless of his actions or things he says, I do not have to forget who I am. I can be better.

I try to tell myself that I can't let his actions effect me or lead me down a path of choices that make me hate myself. Only then, I think if I don't get angry then it lets him off the hook so to speak. He'll think what he's doing is okay and it will get even worse. I've asked him about this catch 22 I find myself in and he tells me to get angry or he will in fact think it doesn't bother me anymore. I know him pretty well I guess. But all I can think is, how is this fair to me when I don't want to be angry anymore? I work every day to calm my anger. Part of why I wanted to do my yoga teacher training is an effort to return to the person I am so I can be a better mom; a better person. It's to release this anger that eats away at me, that will steal my happiness and my life if I let it. But he wants me to get angry at him.

I know I am only human. I know I am not perfect. I know both of these things for a fact. I actually removed thew word "perfect" from my descriptions of things or people long ago when I was in recovery for an eating disorder as a teenager. I don't expect perfection from myself, or anyone else for that matter, yet I have the hardest time applying this knowledge to these unforgiving moments that we all have. I weigh on this so often, not just during these days set aside for us Jews to reflect on such imperfections and sins and repentance. I just can't seem to find an end to this circle of anger, thinking/saying horrible things, being unforgiving of both myself and him for it and contemplating how I can do better..... It is quite exhausting all this anger and not being able to forgive and introspection stuff.  I feel a bit like I'm on a perpetual treadmill.

Obviously some things are unforgivable and in my mind, they deserve to be. I can't fathom how people can torture or brutally kill others, most especially children. I've felt hate in my heart for leaders of nations and their followers who call for the annihilation of Israel and all Jews. I've felt some people are the definition of evil, Hitler for example. Yet millions loved and followed him and agreed with him! How is that forgivable? Yet, many Holocaust survivors have said they forgive their captors, the very people who starved and tortured them and murdered their loved ones. If someone harmed one of my children, I honestly don't think I could forgive them. The problem with this way of thinking is that the act of forgiveness sets you free. Free from the anger. Anger that can be all consuming. Free from the anger that can grow into hate. Hate being something that is simply unacceptable and detrimental to our survival as individuals or collectively.

I am far from perfect. No one is. I guess that's why I can't figure out this forgiveness thing. But I know it's out there. Others can do it under much worse circumstances, so I must continue to strive for it. All I can do is keep trying. Keep remembering I'm not perfect. No one around me is perfect. I need to keep remembering my husband isn't perfect and especially remembering that my kids, who often drive me a bit bat shit crazy, are not perfect! The more I remember that we are all not perfect the more I can remember not to respond in a way that would assume we all are. In the end, I don't have the solution. I haven't found forgiveness. All I really can do is keep going to bed each night with the intent to do better tomorrow. Isn't that all any of us can do with our imperfect selves?

Saw this yesterday as I was working on this post.
How perfect!

To any members of the tribe reading this one....
Gmar Chatimah Tova  (May your final sealing in the Book of Life be good)

Throwing in the Towel

This was not the blog I intended to write today. It's not the one that's been on my mind for the past few days as I soak in these Days of Awe. Which is the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  It's a time of reflection, repentance and taking a good long hard look at myself and what I need to do to be a better person, to be better for my family and our world. This is not that blog because today is one of those days when I just need to throw in the towel and release a bit.

Caleb has been up the past two nights. Last night he refused to go to sleep until 11:30pm after going to bed, late, at 8:30. Now, me being up all night isn't exactly news given my insomnia and Rylie's antics, who happened to sleep these past two nights, of course. BUT Caleb being up is not usual and it is more frustrating because it's not the norm. I didn't think much of it though. Just like when he had a fever on Monday for a brief time, I didn't think much of that. It came and went and he was acting fine.

bruise on his little cheek 

He also fell on Sunday and we still don't know what he hit his face on but he got a small cut on his cheek and a bruise. He looks a mess between that and what appeared to be the fall/winter redness kids get around the mouth from licking, often their runny little nose. Yesterday at Rylie's dentist appointment the dentist mentioned it might be yeast which they can get from licking outside their mouth too. She suggested trying neosporin first and some anti fungal if that didn't work. Well, it was significantly worse today so we were going to go the yeast treatment route later today....


More on where that's going in a bit.

The rest of my morning went something like this.... alarm went off, I hit snooze. Before the snooze went off I reset the alarm for another 10 minutes and figured if worse came to worse the kids could eat cereal from snack cups on the way to school. Instead, everything went pretty smooth considering the late wake ups on a school day. As I was giving myself a bit of a good job mommy pat on the back that we managed to get dressed and eat and were about ready to head to school in plenty of time, I heard Rylie from the bathroom as she finished up brushing her teeth. She said, "I need to go potty". I went in and found what she should have said is, "I just pissed my pants" while standing on the little potty, fully clothed, socks and shoes and all.

Hand one thrown up in the air.

After a  minor mommy meltdown, I hate being late, and much anxiety over leaving pee unattended to until I returned home, I did a quick wash down of her little butt and legs in the tub, grabbed a new outfit and we were racing out the door....again. We made it right on time. Bit of a pat on the back again.

Dropping Caleb off was another one of those pry the screaming child from his death grip and run out the door feeling like a crappy mom for leaving her child so upset. What does a mommy do in such a situation? Why you drive to the nearest coffee shop for some comfort of course! Mind you, I had a coffee I made at home in the car with me, but that just doesn't say comfort food, or drink in this case, like coffee from the coffee shop does.

I pulled in and sent the husband a quick text about my ever so eventful morning and got out of my car to a nice man waiting by his car to inform me that the coffee house was NOT OPEN!

I held up my WTF sign. If you're not sure of my WTF reference, read this at some point. She's awesome. Anyway, hand two was about half thrown up as I pondered what sort of karma was after me today.

I ran home to quickly clean up the pee, and peed on clothes, shoes and potty, left all over the bathroom and to grab the dog for his yearly check up. The vet without kids, woowho! That may be better than a vacation. Eh, not really, but damn close. Not to mention, the vet isn't so bad on the eyes. In short, Apollo didn't try to kill any of the other dogs as he's sporadically has tried to do in the past, which landed us in the bad doggy waiting room for all future visits at our vet in St. Louis. He didn't growl or act like he wanted to eat any of the humans heads off either. Score! He also is very healthy for a pure bred, 8 year old boxer with various ailments. The vet was very pleased that he is a prozac "success story" and we got another year worth of the magic pill. Score again! Though I felt a bit guilty as I realized this appointment was the most individualized attention my first baby has received from me in three years! I suck. But not as bad as the people who took him from our front steps when he got out and waited like a good boy right at the gate. When they brought him back they scolded us for not having a collar on him and told us his microchip didn't scan after I explained our fenced in yard and microchip was the reason for no collar. Yes, well, his chip scanned just fine. People are asses. Anyway....

I went to a different coffee shop and finally got my comfort drink before rushing back home to drop Apollo off and go pick up the rugrats, whew. I'm sort of tired just reliving it all!

Pick up went smoothly today. I just love when Rylie squeals, "Mooommmmyyyy" and runs to give me a hug. Caleb came back to me the way I left him, in tears. Just like all the other 1 year olds from his class. The teachers claim they aren't like that the whole time. Upon getting home we went stright for the bathroom to wash hands. These illnesses are killing me so that's standard.

Umhmmm, well, remember that "yeast" or rash or whatever on Caleb's face I said I would get back to in a bit? We finished washing hands and as I dried his I noticed those same bumps on the palms of his hands. The light bulb went off as I said OH SHIT! Probably aloud, I'm not sure. I grabbed my phone and called the pediatrician immediately, praying I was over reacting. Five minutes later the nurse called back as I explained everything since Monday and she said, "Yup, that's hand, foot, mouth." I think I groaned because she then said,  "Sorry."

I only know what it is from having worked with kids for so long, but I've never seen it, except in pictures. She says there's no treatment and it's not contagious if he doesn't have a fever anymore. BUT, I feel like I need to go wash every toy he may have touched or put in his mouth over the past few days in some bleach water. I don't know the little things like, do I change his toothbrush now or once the blisters are gone? Should I wipe him with his own cloth after meals, or even a paper towel and not worry about being green in this case? If it's not contagious now, does that in fact mean touching his hands or wiping his mouth won't spread it and if that's not the case, well how in the hell will I ever get rid of it or keep the rest of us from getting it?! Yes, freak out mode ensued. I text Craig, again.

I honestly should be researching about this virus instead of writing to release my freak out emotions but there's a lot I should be doing, like not having Rylie watch TV while I write you all, playing with her outside on this beautiful day, studying for yoga, folding laundry, working on the sink full of dishes...... But here I am.

BECAUSE, it didn't end there. Nope, as I put Caleb down for nap, late, I came downstairs to find Rylie playing in the play room with no panties on. I didn't specify naked because all she wears at home is panties soooo.... I asked her why she was naked. She ignored me. There's a surprise. I went in the bathroom and once again she didn't make it to the toilet. This time she tried so there was pee on the shower mat and over to the toilet, all over the toilet and floor and some on the bath rug too. Fan-freakin-tastic! It's a small bathroom but still.

I grabbed up all the wet stuff, again, and went down to do another load of peed on clothes, towels and rugs. And there you have it folks, I officially throw my arms up in defeat. I throw in the towel for today. Some you win and some you lose. Today I stood in the ring with mommy verse the world or karma or whatever this is, and I decided for my sanity it would be best to forfeit to the powers that be. Until next time....

Though, I do still have yoga class tonight.

Watch, there's probably a quiz I am unaware of since I always forget to check the syllabus!

Even though I threw in the towel,
I'm trying to remember this today!