I've always loved the ocean, and felt a connection to it. I don't know why. We live in an area that's about as far from seaside as you can get: in a desert. Any salt water is nearly four hours away. Maybe it was the trip to Seaside, OR when I was a little girl that did it. Or reading in books that there was another world out there besides our own sagebrush-studded, monochromatic one. Whatever the genesis, the few times I've been able to make it to the ocean as an adult I've felt like I've finally come home. I think most people feel a kinship with the ocean. The marketers know this. They sell relaxation tapes with quiet piano music and the soothing sounds of the surf. There's just something about all that salt water that touches a place deep inside human beings. Is it our 80% water composition, calling out to its counterpart, yearning to reconnect?
Maybe its the waves that seem so familiar, rushing in and then receding, in crests and troughs. Life moves that way as well. Perhaps we are governed by the same moon as the tide, pulling and pushing us this way and that in succession.
Yesterday afternoon we hit the trough of the wave. In the morning, B complained about a popcorn hull stuck in his teeth. He had been worrying at it all the night before, making his gums bleed trying to get it back out. I had a bad feeling then. By midafternoon, the gum was swollen and abscessed. By evening, he was running a fever, and he was in pain. I should mention that he's been on gabapentin for the past several months, trying to combat the leftover chronic headache from the meningitis he had earlier this year, so there's really nothing besides ibuprofen that he can take for the pain. Thank heavens, later that night it ruptured and eased the pressure somewhat, but this morning he's feverish and yucky feeling, and scheduled to see the dentist for some antibiotics.
I feel fortunate that the dentist was able to see him this morning as an emergency, but I'm leery about the antibiotic course. This same time a couple of years ago began the same way and ended in c. diff, which took months to recover from. To say that I'm nervous is an understatement. He's started on the heavy duty probiotics and some echinacea just in case.
Ironically enough, we're both on the disabled list. I have a painful cyst that we are waiting to go away, and it hobbles my day and the things I can do. He's still got the tinnitus, which was really bad last night as well and drives him insane. And now the infected tooth. I held him this morning as he wandered around looking sad, watching me get ready to go to work. I told him "This is the trough. Soon enough we will crest again." And it's true. It seems to be cyclical. It just seems like there is so much at once time that we have to deal with.
I read other people's stories, and I see that their lives operate the same way. Life will go along for a while and you think "Well, this is okay. I can deal with this, and maybe I can even get some enjoyment out of it as we go." And then, out of what seems like nowhere, the car dies, someone gets sick, you get laid off, people fight, a bill gets missed. Something. Everything. All at once. People feel like Job. What it really is is your trough. The simple key is that you have to get through it to get to the other side. The pendulum always swings back. That's the thing to remember. And it works both ways. The pendulum always swings back, so if it's really good, look ahead so that you can be prepared. If it's really bad, have faith and hope, because the sunshine is behind the cloud, even when you can't see it.
We will hang in there. This too shall pass. And in a couple of weeks, we will have all the kids at home to visit. Out of the troughs, and into the crests. This little boat shall not sink.
This is the story of two government workers and how they got their wings... Featuring teenagers, titillation, trials, tribulations, and the miracle of love.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
In praise of men
Today I happened across a headline on the Today show website that stopped me cold. "My daughter punched a boy in the privates - I'm so proud". My first thought was that it had to be sarcasm. Of course, I had to read it.
But that wasn't the eyebrow-raising part of the story. The mother's reaction was to haul the kid down to the hapless teacher's desk, where she demanded that the little boy be sanctioned for 'sexual harassment' and kicked out of the school, and told her that her kid was a hero for 'standing up for womens rights'. And if the teacher didn't comply? Well then, they'd just sue her and have her job.
I read the multitude of comments at the end of the article. I found the women's comments, for the most part, to be appalling. The cry for blood on the part of the little boy was disturbing. So was lauding the little girl as a 'hero', and a crusader for justice for women. What is this cry for violence?
There were voices of dissention, mercilessly quashed, mostly from men. One struck me as poignant. "Why the cry for sexual violence in response to a non-violent act?" The women said that the little girl was a 'victim', and that she had the right to apply violence in 'self-defense'. Self defense? Really?
Now, let me step back just a moment from this table, to establish a few facts.
Do I think that little boy, sashaying up to impress the little girl with his sassy remark, meant to degrade or enslave that girl? Do I think that he had any understanding of the (adult) concept of sexual harassment? I do know one thing: weiners are funny, especially at that age, where one is just learning the difference between "I have one thing and you have another". I'm thinking that his quip probably sounded pretty cool to him when he said it. I don't think he's a 'troll' or a 'pervert' or a 'little fiend'. I think he's a pretty normal little boy who made the unfortunate discovery that the things he finds funny aren't necessarily everyone else's bag. Still, I can't sanction the education of discretion at the end of a fist to the genitals.
Would we sanction the punching of a girl in the privates by a boy? Under what circumstances would that be okay? I'll bet 9 of 10 people would say 'never'. Then why the double standard? The potential for pain and damage is twice as great for a girl to hit a boy in the privates. But there it is: the double standard.
But the biggest bonus for women is really the oldest one in the book. We got everything we wanted, and we still got to retain our 'protected' status. We only gotta be liberated if we want to. By default, if we don't feel like paying the bill for dinner, custom and courtesy dictates that the man step up. Or opening the door. Or tackling unpleasant things. Or fighting our own battles.
And here's the rub: you'd think we'd be grateful. But this newfound liberation, God bless it for its wonderful qualities, but it has an ugly underbelly. It seems to be an unwritten law of the cosmos that one group can't exist without stepping on the other. It's not enough to peacefully coexist in equality, happy in our own differentness, enjoying each other and celebrating how each sex compliments the other. No - when we stepped up to take our place at the table, we felt we had to step on men's heads to get there, kind of like a big game hunter with one foot on the trophy.
And just as a battered woman will come to believe that she truly is worthless, a man eventually comes to believe it too.
"Slacker" comedy abounds. We laugh, but is this really what we want out of our relationships? I'm with Paula Cole: "where have all the cowboys gone?" Well, Paula, the truth is we confiscated the horse and the job and gave him a shovel and the real important job of shoveling horse dung behind us as we rode around with the spangles in the spotlight that we really and truly deserved after being held down for all those generations and generations of injustice. Where is our cowboy again? No clue... he forgot how to ride and rope after all that time of internalizing that all he was worth to us was either wrapped up in his Wranglers or doing all the tasks we didn't want to do after all.So now what?
It's a good question. Studies are beginning to show that the children that REALLY need rescuing are our boys. They've lost their stars to navigate by. The grandfathers and great grandfathers that were men back in the generations that appreciated their men have begun to fall by the wayside, and the fathers that have been part of the emasculation generation no longer know how. And we should feel BAD for them. We should - after all, we know how it feels to be deemed worthless. All that they have left is what society shows them is an acceptable role: buffoon, slacker, patsy, spider-killer, dungslinger.
This post, long and rambling as it is, comes back around to this. This is my love song to men. I appreciate you. I respect you. The human race would not exist without our joint effort.
The article is written by the mother of a preschooler. The gist of the incident is that the little girl got a note sent home from school, alerting her parents that she'd been reprimanded for her behavior in class that day. When asked what she'd done to deserve it, she told her mother that one of the little boys in the class had positioned himself proudly in front of her desk and told her to "Talk to Mr. Weiner". So she proceeded to do what made her mother so proud: she hauled off and punched him in the privates.
But that wasn't the eyebrow-raising part of the story. The mother's reaction was to haul the kid down to the hapless teacher's desk, where she demanded that the little boy be sanctioned for 'sexual harassment' and kicked out of the school, and told her that her kid was a hero for 'standing up for womens rights'. And if the teacher didn't comply? Well then, they'd just sue her and have her job.
I read the multitude of comments at the end of the article. I found the women's comments, for the most part, to be appalling. The cry for blood on the part of the little boy was disturbing. So was lauding the little girl as a 'hero', and a crusader for justice for women. What is this cry for violence?
There were voices of dissention, mercilessly quashed, mostly from men. One struck me as poignant. "Why the cry for sexual violence in response to a non-violent act?" The women said that the little girl was a 'victim', and that she had the right to apply violence in 'self-defense'. Self defense? Really?
Now, let me step back just a moment from this table, to establish a few facts.
I have survived the real thing. I know what molestation looks like, and rape, and sexual harassment. These things are violent acts, in and of themselves. They are power plays masquerading behind masks made of sex, designed to quash and degrade and enslave and subordinate. It has taken me years to get in front of the memories of long ago. I know the import of these words, some of the most powerful in the human language. In no way would I ever degrade anyone who has been victimized by someone else in one of these ways. This story, too, is a story for another time. Suffice to say that I have been branded, and I am in the unwanted sisterhood.
Do I think that little boy, sashaying up to impress the little girl with his sassy remark, meant to degrade or enslave that girl? Do I think that he had any understanding of the (adult) concept of sexual harassment? I do know one thing: weiners are funny, especially at that age, where one is just learning the difference between "I have one thing and you have another". I'm thinking that his quip probably sounded pretty cool to him when he said it. I don't think he's a 'troll' or a 'pervert' or a 'little fiend'. I think he's a pretty normal little boy who made the unfortunate discovery that the things he finds funny aren't necessarily everyone else's bag. Still, I can't sanction the education of discretion at the end of a fist to the genitals.
Would we sanction the punching of a girl in the privates by a boy? Under what circumstances would that be okay? I'll bet 9 of 10 people would say 'never'. Then why the double standard? The potential for pain and damage is twice as great for a girl to hit a boy in the privates. But there it is: the double standard.
Not so very long ago the double standard existed in reverse. I don't think anyone would disagree that women were a ways down the totem pole of importance in the recent past compared to their brothers. We have worked hard to overcome that, and I believe in my heart that we have. I think we have every advantage today that men do, unless you speak of absolutely gender-linked issues. (I don't think we want to share equally in contracting prostate cancer, or erectile dysfunction) If anything, the pendulum has swung further forward than back. Women are able to play the minority card and claim that credit as well. Women are now going to college in numbers far greater than men. We are paid equally in most instances and share the same perks.
And here's the rub: you'd think we'd be grateful. But this newfound liberation, God bless it for its wonderful qualities, but it has an ugly underbelly. It seems to be an unwritten law of the cosmos that one group can't exist without stepping on the other. It's not enough to peacefully coexist in equality, happy in our own differentness, enjoying each other and celebrating how each sex compliments the other. No - when we stepped up to take our place at the table, we felt we had to step on men's heads to get there, kind of like a big game hunter with one foot on the trophy.
How many instances of this stereotype can you find on TV today? Beautiful, successful, witty, knowing woman, paired with bumbling, stupid, lazy, slovenly man? How about this one: failure father, who is laughed at and scorned by his children and the superior wife who barely tolerates him but bails him out again and again for comic effect? It may be just TV, or the movies, but we absorb it. We are sheeple, under the skin, and we feed on stereotypes.
How does this affect us? Slowly, it erodes our respect as women for the men around us. We are somehow not able to feel equal without trying to make them aware that we believe them to be inferior. We shame them, laugh at them, stereotype them. We pigeonhole them.
And just as a battered woman will come to believe that she truly is worthless, a man eventually comes to believe it too.
"Slacker" comedy abounds. We laugh, but is this really what we want out of our relationships? I'm with Paula Cole: "where have all the cowboys gone?" Well, Paula, the truth is we confiscated the horse and the job and gave him a shovel and the real important job of shoveling horse dung behind us as we rode around with the spangles in the spotlight that we really and truly deserved after being held down for all those generations and generations of injustice. Where is our cowboy again? No clue... he forgot how to ride and rope after all that time of internalizing that all he was worth to us was either wrapped up in his Wranglers or doing all the tasks we didn't want to do after all.
It's a good question. Studies are beginning to show that the children that REALLY need rescuing are our boys. They've lost their stars to navigate by. The grandfathers and great grandfathers that were men back in the generations that appreciated their men have begun to fall by the wayside, and the fathers that have been part of the emasculation generation no longer know how. And we should feel BAD for them. We should - after all, we know how it feels to be deemed worthless. All that they have left is what society shows them is an acceptable role: buffoon, slacker, patsy, spider-killer, dungslinger.

Despite this depressing trend, those little boys who need love and respect are still there, waiting, eager to love and to please. They may be ten or thirty or fifty, but they all need the same thing, the same thing we all need as human beings: Love. Respect. Self-worth.
The world is large enough for all of us, after all. There's no need to push and jostle. We are so much stronger if we stand side by side, rather than fighting to take the top position. The strongest pairs among us realize the truth: that the top position is temporary, and to be traded back and forth as needed by strengths. Today we need his skills to navigate our journey's path. Tomorrow we may need mine.
The world is large enough for all of us, after all. There's no need to push and jostle. We are so much stronger if we stand side by side, rather than fighting to take the top position. The strongest pairs among us realize the truth: that the top position is temporary, and to be traded back and forth as needed by strengths. Today we need his skills to navigate our journey's path. Tomorrow we may need mine.
This post, long and rambling as it is, comes back around to this. This is my love song to men. I appreciate you. I respect you. The human race would not exist without our joint effort.
- Thank you for doing all the things you do, quietly and with no fanfare, without seeking of praise or recognition.
- Thank you for the things you let me do, for encouraging me to be the best woman I can be.
- Thank you for being strong, and holding me up when I falter.
- Thank you for being weak sometimes. I need to feel needed, and to comfort you not only shows me I can be safe with you, but lets me give back to you in your hour of need.
- Thank you for your courage and for your heart. You inspire me and give me hope.
- Thank you for your innate sense of direction, which every man seems to possess, and women can only Garmin!
- Thank you for being my sense of direction, my bright star, which points the way.
- Thank you for my children, and for being a father. Without you, I must do twice the job with half the knowledge.
- Thank you for respecting me, and for respecting yourself. Your faith and justice are a beacon to others.
- Thank you for holding me, and the safety I feel when I am in your arms.
- Thank you for being the yin to my yang, the other half of the puzzle, without whom the universe would be incomplete. A woman CAN live her life without a mate, but was not designed to. There are things we need from you that we can not even put a name to, but the sense of completion when we are mated shows us that something was missing without you.
- Thank you for being YOU.
There is a reason that God is called "the Father". Protector, redeemer, judge, confidant, comforter. He created Man in his image. I am thankful to be a daughter of Eve, and more thankful for my Adam. May we strive to ever be thankful for each other, respectful of each other, and mindful of our own equality, as well as our unique strengths and weaknesses. Let this new world be a world where we treat each other with the same respects that we demand for ourselves, and tolerate no violence against each other.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Long time gone
It's true. I've been a long time gone. And I really should be doing a thousand other things than sitting here, but sitting has become my solace.
It would take too long for this post to recap the past six months, but I'll say this: between B's illnesses and my own, it's been a whirlwind of specialists and misery for quite a while. Interspersed with the wonder and awe of such things as taking the girl off to college, building an addition to the house, and reclaiming our son from the long shadow his sister cast for eighteen years. It takes a long time to build a family, especially when life insists on happening in the meantime.
So, we're back. I still owe some very important letters and emails, some of which I feel a deep shame for missing for so long. I dropped the ball, grievously, and I am very sorry. I can only say that I have been so deep within our own pain and misery that I've had energy only to brush the surface of the outside world and dip my toes in occasionally. Any further or deeper interaction has required more mental energy than I possessed. And that's as many excuses as I will make here.
PD is still our roommate, but we've come to deal with it much better. Somewhere in the middle of the great medical crisises of 2010 we decided that we did not have to put up with an unresponsive, rude neurologist any more, and fired him. We found what seems to be a pretty good movement disorder specialist three and a half hours away in the Big City, close enough to B's brother and sister in law's place that we can do an overnight. She took the ball in hand and ran with it, changing him in the first visit to Requip XL (versus the regular Requip, which caused him profound nausea and misery four times a day and had big on and off periods) and bumped up his Sinemet dosage. The combination of the two changes has eliminated his weak side drag and limp, and given him a peaceful daytime, since the nausea and ups and downs are pretty much gone. The XL lasts longer, and has a smoother ride. It's been out for a few years now, and it never occurred to the old neuro to change it. Thank God for new doctors!
It's impossible to describe how wonderful it is to see him feel better. There is precious little comfort in this whole thing, but to find this small change that makes such a vast difference is definitely a blessing. If only we could fix everything so easily!
The girl is doing fantastic at college. She is loving it. She's hooked up with a sorority, and pinned with her group last week. They can't move into the house until next year when the Seniors move out, but in the meantime she's made fast friends with all the rest of the girls on her dorm floor and is having a ball. The midterm grades showed a 3.9 GPA. Finals are next week before Christmas vacation. We all have our fingers crossed that she can pass the finals as well as the midterms. Adjustment has been easy for her, thank God. It seems funny to think that just a couple of years ago we were wondering if she would make it to high school graduation without dropping out.
My relationship with my son is a subject for another post. All I can say is that we needed this so badly, this time together. He astounds and awes me, and I am so very proud of him. I can see that we are in for another long road to get him to where he needs to be, in college, but that it's going to be worth the journey. The depths of the relationship he's found with B is incredible. I never could have anticipated that, nor that the girl would call B to come spend Dad's Weekend with her in her dorm. I don't know what happened that I did right finally, but I hope it lasts.
This post is to say that I am back, hopefully for a while. I'm sorry I left, and that I dropped the ball on my friendships here. This place is valuable to me, as are you. If you're all still here, thanks for hanging in. I'll try to make it worth your while.
It would take too long for this post to recap the past six months, but I'll say this: between B's illnesses and my own, it's been a whirlwind of specialists and misery for quite a while. Interspersed with the wonder and awe of such things as taking the girl off to college, building an addition to the house, and reclaiming our son from the long shadow his sister cast for eighteen years. It takes a long time to build a family, especially when life insists on happening in the meantime.
So, we're back. I still owe some very important letters and emails, some of which I feel a deep shame for missing for so long. I dropped the ball, grievously, and I am very sorry. I can only say that I have been so deep within our own pain and misery that I've had energy only to brush the surface of the outside world and dip my toes in occasionally. Any further or deeper interaction has required more mental energy than I possessed. And that's as many excuses as I will make here.
PD is still our roommate, but we've come to deal with it much better. Somewhere in the middle of the great medical crisises of 2010 we decided that we did not have to put up with an unresponsive, rude neurologist any more, and fired him. We found what seems to be a pretty good movement disorder specialist three and a half hours away in the Big City, close enough to B's brother and sister in law's place that we can do an overnight. She took the ball in hand and ran with it, changing him in the first visit to Requip XL (versus the regular Requip, which caused him profound nausea and misery four times a day and had big on and off periods) and bumped up his Sinemet dosage. The combination of the two changes has eliminated his weak side drag and limp, and given him a peaceful daytime, since the nausea and ups and downs are pretty much gone. The XL lasts longer, and has a smoother ride. It's been out for a few years now, and it never occurred to the old neuro to change it. Thank God for new doctors!
It's impossible to describe how wonderful it is to see him feel better. There is precious little comfort in this whole thing, but to find this small change that makes such a vast difference is definitely a blessing. If only we could fix everything so easily!
The girl is doing fantastic at college. She is loving it. She's hooked up with a sorority, and pinned with her group last week. They can't move into the house until next year when the Seniors move out, but in the meantime she's made fast friends with all the rest of the girls on her dorm floor and is having a ball. The midterm grades showed a 3.9 GPA. Finals are next week before Christmas vacation. We all have our fingers crossed that she can pass the finals as well as the midterms. Adjustment has been easy for her, thank God. It seems funny to think that just a couple of years ago we were wondering if she would make it to high school graduation without dropping out.
My relationship with my son is a subject for another post. All I can say is that we needed this so badly, this time together. He astounds and awes me, and I am so very proud of him. I can see that we are in for another long road to get him to where he needs to be, in college, but that it's going to be worth the journey. The depths of the relationship he's found with B is incredible. I never could have anticipated that, nor that the girl would call B to come spend Dad's Weekend with her in her dorm. I don't know what happened that I did right finally, but I hope it lasts.
This post is to say that I am back, hopefully for a while. I'm sorry I left, and that I dropped the ball on my friendships here. This place is valuable to me, as are you. If you're all still here, thanks for hanging in. I'll try to make it worth your while.



