God Bless...Canada?

My daughter came home today with very unbiased political material from school. I was pleased that they are talking about current events and it was nice to see that even when she picked a side and told me she was voting for person x, that she was able to articulate why and tell me her friend was voting differently and respectfully explain why the friend was voting for person y.

Well done teacher. We do not talk politics in front of her. The last thing I want is to be in the middle of Kroger and have her parrot misunderstood political dialogue. You know, in a similar manner that in the middle of the Fall Festival this year she announced in front of an entire room of parents that "My mommy got handcuffed by the police before!" Um, really? So I say "Um, really, do tell..." She thankfully responded "Don't you remember Momma? Last year when Fuzzy was a cop for Halloween and he handcuffed us together..." Needless to say my being mortified was short lived but OMG.

So politics, nope, not when little ears are around. Especially since I consider myself to be a liberal conservative or conservative liberal.

Several hours after the voting conversation she busted out with these lovely musings...
Ava:"Momma, I like President Obama, but how is he allowed to be President?"
Me: "Uh, why wouldn't he be allowed to be President?"
Ava: "Because he wasn't born in the United States I thought all Presidents needed to be born here."
Me:"Ava,he was born here, who told you he wasn't?"
Ava:"They showed us a movie in class today Momma and HE WAS NOT BORN HERE. He was born in Canada."
Me:" What? Hang on, back up, they showed you a movie in school today saying that President Obama was born in Canada? Ava, people say a lot of things about different Presidents, but he was not born in Canada."
Ava: "Oh, maybe it was Justin Bieber. You're right Mom, Justin Bieber was born in Canada, he can't be President."

I'm not sure if I'm happy or upset about this. So it appears that they successfully have open social studies conversations but on the other hand she was subjected to Justin Bieber.

Well, at least at this point if my daughter has successfully mixed up President Obama and Justin Bieber than at least I'm doing a good job with raising her to be color blind.

I am slightly offended that she mixed an American up with a Canadian though, god knows all Canadians do indeed look alike... ;P

Ally McBeal vs Jack Handy

I follow my sister's blog religiously, generally it is how I spend my 2 minutes at lunch inhaling my food while reading her thoughts. Today I laughed as I read her posting about Jack Handy worthy thoughts at: http://17gon.blogspot.com/2012/11/thoughts.html

I laugh because too often I am entirely way too amused by my own thoughts. For me however I'm torn between "Deep Thoughts" of the Jack Handy variety and the neurotic Ally McBeal style musings. It is this mixture of emotions that binds me with some of my closest friends. Our ability to share looks, or for me to start humming *circus music* and we are immediately bound in understanding our day, the situation whatever.

There are days where I wear my iPod around the hospital and literally have my own soundtrack for the day, there are others where random movie quotes are floating like clouds across my thoughts. At any rate, I am always amused. I'm not so certain others would be if they were privy, but this makes me wonder, am I alone with my internal dialogues *cue Meredith Grey voice over* or is this normal? Is my normal, actually dysfunction and is this dysfunction actually normal so everyone truly is dysfunctional?

(Please note, I'm fully aware that this is both normal and dysfunctional and oh jeez, see this is the shit I was talking about on my FB post, if you don't know me well enough to read this stuff and get my sense of humor, please just unfriend me.)

*cue Steward Smalley "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it people like me."

So I was watching Ava and her friend over this weekend and to listen in on 5 year old dialogue was insane. It appears they say what they are thinking which is great but makes me wonder what are they thinking when they are actually silent?

Do we really want to know? Or is it just Homer Simpson and a circus monkey uni-cycling around in his brain?

Oy, out of the three, Ally McBeal, Jack Handy and Stewart Smalley, I think I am strangely content with Ally.

Which leads me to the question of diagnosing the 3 of them and gosh darn it, I just do not have the energy to do that this evening.

Facebook

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. On the one hand, I love it because I have been blessed to have traveled around the world and have many friends and family who reside across said globe. Facebook allows me to have glimpses into their lives and at times when years have gone by and the phone rings, to answer and pick up the relationship/familiarity right where we left off last time we saw each other (Netta).

I like the ability to post to mass audiences to assist one another, be it to place an animal in a new home, applaud literary accomplishments of friends or even to ask advice on school districts or Nikon vs Canon (Nikon for the record) etc.

There is also the fact that many of my lifelong or at least long term friends have decided to have a mass exodus from this lovely State of Michigan and with gas/airfare being as pricey as it is again, it allows for already strong friendships to remain strong.

My daughter now has a doubled family due to divorce. I like that if she asks to see a picture of her cousin Lily and I ask which one and she responds with "Both please" that I am able to oblige.

I have long appreciated the value of Facebook in my life but lately, it has become burdensome.

The hate aspects of Facebook largely started with this being an election year. I do not care which side you are on, according to Facebook from many of your posts you are either uneducated and struggle with your morals or ... oh wait... judging from many of your posts this appears to be both Democrat and Republican voters.

Lately I have had a HUGE number of friends getting upset with me on my lack of response to messages in my inbox. I am on a computer most of the day, however not on Facebook. I have a smartphone which I use to see random updates if I'm getting an oil change or fighting insomnia, but I don't use it much for email or messages. Texting? Yes, it is short and to the point. But if I am going to carry on a conversation that is not over the phone, it is going to be via email.

If you know me, then you know this. Which leads me to wondering if my "friends" really know me. I am really blessed. I have a great family. I have great friends who have become family. I am about to marry into a wonderful family. I love my job, I believe I am good at what I do, but am always striving to be better. I love to bitch about working out and love to indulge in life requiring me to work out.

I'm really optimistic with a snarky sense of humor. I am genuine and pride myself on doing what I say and if I'm going to vent about you to someone, then I pick up my bootstraps and say it to your face.

I'm annoyed that I'm feeling the need to blog about who I am because lately some of the comments I have gotten about status updates which were jokes, or comments I've made on other people's pages which were sincere are starting to make me wonder, do the people who consider me a "friend" really know me? If they don't know me, why did they "friend" me?

I have a large number of friends on here but anyone who "knows" me knows I talk to anything that moves, people, squirrels, floating grocery bag in the breeze...

This leads me to trying to figure out, do I lock down my Facebook, do I "clean" out my friends, but then what happens?

Obviously this will end up insulting some people, and ironically the people who wouldn't be offended if I did unfriend them even though there is no reason why I would, those people would not be upset. Partly because they are assholes, (Timmy Bob), and partly because I'm friends with them because everyone needs a brilliant asshole or two in the lives (Jeter) because these friends are honest, real and provide a strange breath of fresh air.

There are 168 hours in a week.
Typically I spend mine:
Commute: 6 hours
Work: 40
Ava Homework/Reading: 5
Workout: 5
TV Shows/Not multi-tasking: 4
Sleeping/Trying to Sleep: 56
Groceries: 2
Hygiene/mine/Ava: 10
Meal Prep: 7

At this point this leaves 33 hours with about 24 of this being devoted to adventures with Ava on the weekends which leaves about 9 hours unaccounted for to do laundry, see friends, check email, respond to phone calls, get gas, clean, etc.

So what to do? I'm fortunate that so many of my friends have children around the same age allowing me to be in mommy-mode and friend-mode simultaneously, but what to do about people who I thought knew me well enough for me to accept their friend invite via Facebook, but who clearly from comments, side conversations and direct confrontations about my limitations to responding to messages are not necessarily people who should indeed be considered "friends."

Really in the grand scheme of things this really isn't an issue. And if I were to ask my brilliant, honest asshole friends, they would say "unfriend them."

So I guess this is a prelude to cleaning house.
As much as I like to joke that I'm a therapist who hates people, I don't. I enjoy the connections we've developed over the years, the people in my life as much as the events in my life have shaped me into who I am now. Life is simple. Truly. When it's not, something generally is not what it seems or we do not like our options. I like simple. I trust if you have friend-ed me or if I friend-ed you it was because on some level I believe we are friends. If I continue to observe that our perceptions of each other are mismatched or mistaken, then the decision to un-friend will also be simple.

Live each day vowing to make the lives around you brighter and yours too will shine.

“Once a little boy was playing outdoors and found a fascinating caterpillar. He carefully picked it up and took it home to show his mother. He asked his mother if he could keep it, and she said he could if he would take good care of it. The little boy got a large jar from his mother and put plants to eat, and a stick to climb on, in the jar. Every day he watched the caterpillar and brought it new plants to eat. One day the caterpillar climbed up the stick and started acting strangely. The boy worriedly called his mother who came and understood that the caterpillar was creating a cocoon. The mother explained to the boy how the caterpillar was going to go through a metamorphosis and become a butterfly. The little boy was thrilled to hear about the changes his caterpillar would go through. He watched every day, waiting for the butterfly to emerge. One day it happened, a small hole appeared in the cocoon and the butterfly started to struggle to come out. At first the boy was excited, but soon he became concerned. The butterfly was struggling so hard to get out! It looked like it couldn’t break free! It looked desperate! It looked like it was making no progress! The boy was so concerned he decided to help. He ran to get scissors, and then walked back (because he had learned not to run with scissors…). He snipped the cocoon to make the hole bigger and the butterfly quickly emerged! As the butterfly came out the boy was surprised. It had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. He continued to watch the butterfly expecting that, at any moment, the wings would dry out, enlarge and expand to support the swollen body. He knew that in time the body would shrink and the butterfly’s wings would expand. But neither happened! The butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings. It never was able to fly… As the boy tried to figure out what had gone wrong his mother took him to talk to a scientist from a local college. He learned that the butterfly was SUPPOSED to struggle. In fact, the butterfly’s struggle to push its way through the tiny opening of the cocoon pushes the fluid out of its body and into its wings. Without the struggle, the butterfly would never, ever fly. The boy’s good intentions hurt the butterfly. As you go through school, and life, keep in mind that struggling is an important part of any growth experience. In fact, it is the struggle that causes you to develop your ability to fly.” -Author Unknown I love this story. I find it inspirational as a parent. I also find it very difficult to remember as a divorced parent. My daughter is loved. She is loved by all of her families and has no idea her life is any different than some of her friends. That being said, I am aware. I am aware that she will not wake up every Christmas morning at my house. I am aware that I bite my tounge often in her presence with my ex and his fiance’ because it is in her best interest and I am aware that there will come a point in her life whether she is gay or straight when she gets married that she will be torn on who to ask her to walk down the aisle. I find that it is my own perceptions and awareness that decrease my efficacy at times during parenting. There are times when I should discipline more and I don’t because I’m trying to be sensitive to her reality, be it that she didn’t get enough sleep, that she is sick, or that she just buried a grandparent. But overall though there are times when rightfully I am aware and sensitive too often, I am paralyzed by my fear of hurting her. I will fuck my child up. You will too with your own. We all do. It’s a reality. But it is also a reality that we have the power and ability to love our children and raise them to know they are important and loved and are capable. There is a fine line for me between not fucking my child up by snipping open her cocoon for her and being there to know she isn’t alone. What I’m learning is honesty in all areas is key. Having friends and family with integrity close by for support and feedback and also being open to hearing it while having the confidence to also go with your gut. Though I am not religious, I am spiritual. The book “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz, in my opinion is essential for divorced parents and the fine line between supporting and raising your child and not projecting your own insecurities on them. Actually, these agreements are universally prudent. 1. Be impeccable with your word. 2. Don’t take anything personally. 3. Don’t make assumptions. 4. Always do your best. I am not a perfect person. I am not a perfect mother, partner, friend, sister, psychotherapist. I used to struggle with insomnia. Truly, the four statements above since becoming my guiding rules for life have allowed me to sleep, sleep deeply and easily. I know I make mistakes, but life is good. My daughter is good. When she’s not, she’s 5. It happens. I have a lot of friends who are divorced. Note, I did not say who are sadly divorced. Everything happens for a reason, if you don’t believe this, you haven’t discovered the reason. If you call bullshit, you aren’t living but simply existing because life is about meaning, creating it and living it. If divorce is the worst thing that happens to you, you are fortunate. The caterpillar doesn’t know today that tomorrow it will be a butterfly. We do know that what we do today is who we become tomorrow. How you parent or don’t parent today will either disable or destroy your child tomorrow or give them the ability to fly. I write this blog today feeling fortunate for my friends and family around me, attempting to put my own insecurities as a parent in a box on a shelf for me to be aware of, but not to let interfere with my parenting. I vow to be aware of my intentions, to stop, think and focus. I know Ava will have to struggle in life in order to fly. I don’t like it. It’s not going to be easy. But really, who said life was? I can’t guarantee that I will stop wanting to cut Ava’s cocoon, I can guarantee that at the end of the day, whether she grows into a moth or a butterfly, I will support her change, will be there for her travels and will always love her and want to protect her. Damn, this didn’t end as poetically as I hoped. Be well, laugh often. T

Back in the day when boys grew to be men...

This was an unfinished post from awhile back. I found it in my drafts. I have a lot of men in my life. Sadly I know a lot of grown boys too. Guess the post was actually finished in just the title. 

Catfish Bad

You know your lunch was terrible when it inspires poetry. Either that or working for the Federal Goverment has made me lose my mind... with this I present... Catfish Bad. Catfish Bad Bad texture, bad taste Oh catfish why must you mock my face? My tongue is so sad, such high hopes Your flavor boasts, but in the flesh you Were not so fresh. Catfish Bad. Tara Sad.

The Square

Anyone who knows me, actually no, anyone who has been with me at any random time when I'm feeling snarky knows I have a pet peeve with "the square." Not all things square, somethings are meant to be square, televisions, photographs, but cars? No. Worst cars EVER, in random order... HHR Cube Scion Flex - honest to god a microwave on wheels PT Cruiser, not square but annoys the hell out of me anyway Soul That is all. Make it a great day :)