The man I married is a perfect dichotomy of soft and strong. I love watching my husband as a father to his children. I remember the first time I really melted regarding him as a daddy was when he asked a tiny Gabriel at the kitchen table if he wanted shakies on his tatoe. Today he kissed a tiny plastic zebra at Elsie's request. What a softie.

It's PERSONAL

So, the Republican running for Indiana's US Senate seat said something the other night that has started a firestorm, and I'm really annoyed by how this is being played by those who oppose him. I'm probably voting straight Libertarian this time around just because I'm sick of everyone else's bullshit, so I'm not trying to defend the man on the basis of I think he's right for the job of representing Indiana, but I feel compelled to defend someone who stands up for their principles when their words are used against them in a context other that what they said or clearly intended. He is "unapologetically pro-life" according to his words and his campaign website - what did you think he would say when you asked him about abortion??? I don't know where he stands on the death penalty and I think this is an interesting conundrum between the two predominant parties - pro-lifers tend to be pro-death penalty and pro-choicers tend to be anti-death penalty, but that's a separate issue. The point is, he thinks that abortion is wrong unless the woman's life is in danger. PERIOD.

My PERSONAL feelings on the subject are this:

I PERSONALLY believe that every person who comes into my life has a lesson to teach me. With some it’s how to love. With some it’s how to be a friend. With some it’s how to lead, with some how to follow. With some it’s understanding a different point of view. With some it’s how to be tolerant - sometimes even of their own intolerance. With some it’s how to forgive - sometimes even the most terrible of transgressions. With some it’s how to be forgiven, because even if I know I'm not perfect, it's hard to be confronted with that reality.

I PERSONALLY believe that in light of that first set of beliefs, every person’s life is precious and worth protecting. I struggle VERY MUCH with what should be done in cases where someone’s life has been taken by someone else. I believe “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” but I also believe that when someone chooses to end or permanently damage another person’s life, or many others’ lives - when someone actively, remorselessly chooses to do that, by their own hand or someone else’s - they forfeit my respect for their own life. I don’t think that probably affects many people that I know, either because they know firsthand what remorse is or because they don’t give a shit about my respect.

I PERSONALLY believe that life begins at implantation. I have carried five babies and given birth to four. I know that sometimes those lives don’t make it for reasons that are beyond anyone’s control.

I PERSONALLY believe in light of the above that I could never actively choose to end a pregnancy unless my life was in danger. I know that in that situation, I would have to put my other children first, because they are here and they know me and they need me.

I PERSONALLY do not understand how anyone could choose to end a pregnancy for any other reason, but I also believe that your choices are not mine to make and you are the one who has to live with your own decisions.

I PERSONALLY think that politics is a filthy business and once someone is elected, they should do the job of REPRESENTING their constituents.

BUT…

I PERSONALLY think that politicians and even representatives are entitled to their PERSONAL opinions, and when you ask for someone’s PERSONAL opinion you should not be appalled at their response and twist and omit their words to change the entire context of what they said for your own personal gain. 

When asked his PERSONAL OPINION on the subject, Richard Mourdock clearly said that rape is horrible, but he PERSONALLY believes that life resulting from rape is worth preserving. You don't have to agree, but don't say he said something that he didn't.

Feeling gross, but glowing, nonetheless

Blech! I hate being sick. It's been a while since I've had a cold (I'm sticking with that self-diagnosis because I refuse to empower any worse creepy crawlies) that knocked me on my ass. Everyone in my house has been coughing or blowing or just feeling gross for the past two weeks. I thought I had dodged it, but no. I felt it coming yesterday. No subtlety to this bug. I felt fine when I left for school before nine a.m. I started sneezing in the late morning/early afternoon and by dinner time I needed a box of tissues beside me so I didn't drip on anything. Today, I was able to go to my morning class, but was in bed from noon until four. There's not much I can take, even if I wanted to go the pharmaceutical route, and my OB won't recommend anything herbal or homeopathic. Dude, just give me some medicinal tea, already! So... the bottom line is, I'm sick. I just have to suck it up for now.

Fortunately, this time around I have company. Tiny person inside has been letting me know all evening s/he is okay. Feels like a future gymnast. I've even felt a couple bumps on the outside. :) That's the most fun part of being pregnant in my opinion. I have friends who like the secret part, when no one knows but them, before they start showing... Nope, not me. I feel at my most glorious, most feminine, most powerful, and (usually) healthiest when I'm pregnant. I love watching the way my body is changing, feeling every new feeling, getting dressed every morning... I don't hate it when strangers ogle my belly, or even touch it - if they ask first. When I was pregnant with Charlie, Gabriel would snuggle my belly all the time. Charlie has always wanted to be on my belly, ever since he stopped nursing. I can't wait for him to feel his new brother or sister bump his hand or cheek from inside my womb. He's so excited. I love being pregnant. Knowing this is probably the last time makes me want to document the experience even more.

My roomie keeps telling me I'm glowing. I roll my eyes at her, but I know it's true.

So I've come to a decision. I'm going to med school.

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be either a doctor or a lawyer. I was ambitious. I knew I was smart enough to do either one, and I wanted to help people and make a lot of money, so those seemed the logical options for a career path. The problem was, I was confusing ambition for drive, as my friend Jonathan put it one time. (I think that's how he phrased it, if not, I'm sure he'll correct me when he reads this. ;) ) Anyway, I didn't know how to make either of those dreams come true. Obviously, brains aren't enough to get a person through college, as evidenced by all the brilliant people I know who have flailed miserably once they stepped foot on a university campus.

By the time I graduated from high school, I had lost my bearing on which direction I wanted to take. In the fifteen years since graduation I've been through five jobs, two colleges and three choices of major, finally coming to rest in the field of Anthropology, but not at all sure what I wanted to do with my degree once I got it (not to mention two marriages, three children and several addresses). I have commented to a few friends that it's unfortunate they don't teach life skills as a prerequisite for graduation from high school, especially in the gifted and talented programs. I find more often than not that people of exceptional intelligence are not always equally equipped with common sense, myself being a prime example.

I've been wanting to get back into college for a few years now. I left school when I was pregnant with my middle child and for the past six years have been focusing on being a good wife and mom. My kids are old enough now that I need to shift my focus to leading by example. I decided to get back in school, whatever it took, buckle down, work hard, and get my degree. But I still had the looming question of what to do with said degree. Then I went to a Christian women's conference that talked about mission trips and medical residency programs in other countries and it clicked. That's where I need to be. That's what I'm going to do. I have dreamed for years of going to Africa, and this idea could make all of my dreams come true. I can go to med school, become a doctor, use my expertise to be of service to others in a professional capacity and in the mission field, and see the world. Just a couple problems: One, med school is expensive and I'll probably have to move my family or be away from them for the better part of four years to complete the program. Two, the incompletes on my record when I left school converted into F's when I didn't go back and my GPA was abysmal.

Regardless, I looked into getting back into school and found out several exciting things. First, IU Med School has a Fort Wayne campus at IPFW now, so I can go straight through from my bachelors degree into graduate studies without going more than a mile from my home. Second, because I'd been out of school for over five years, I was eligible to apply for "Academic Renewal" which means, if approved, the F's I'd previously received would not apply to my graduating GPA as long as I maintain good grades from here on out. I was approved and at this point I have a fairly clean slate with a 3.18 GPA. So I enrolled in this semester without knowing exactly how I was going to pay for it, but we're making it happen, and I start school this Monday January 11.

I have learned from Mike Dooley, Jack Canfield, and Marcia Wieder that when you have a dream, focus on that dream, and take steps - even baby steps - to accomplish that dream, the universe will take care of the hows and the unknowns. Huge thanks to them and to all my friends and family who have always believed in me. I can't wait for all of us to see what's next!

The letter S

January 31, 2008

Okay, anyone who knows me well, or ever has, knows of my adoration of language and deep appreciation for the power of words. Well today I was blessed with a newfound sense of appreciation for the letter S. Specifically when placed in the middle of the word cleaning. Ooh ooh! Break it down! clean sing Yay for that. Anyway...

I am working on a project in the basement of our house. This room has served many purposes over the 20 years or so Paul and his dad have lived in this house. For a long time it was Paul's bedroom, it's also been rec room, band practice room, party room. It was once our bedroom, Paul's and mine. The dogs slept down here too since they can't be trusted to run around the house at night without making various types of messes - plants, food, bathroom, etc. When Paul's brother moved in with his dog about six years ago, said brother's dog started a marking contest with our, then two, male collies. Since then, and still after brother and dog moved out, our dogs never got over themselves, even after one was neutered, so they were relegated to the basement full-time. Now don't freak out if you're an animal lover; they have plenty of room down here and a big yard to go out into, they're well fed, we spend lots of time with them, it's just been their room. I mean, how many dogs do you know with their own 15 x 23 bedroom?
We moved out of the basement when Gabriel was a baby because the dust and dander and dryness during the winter was too much and I couldn't listen to him rasp during the night anymore, so we moved upstairs. (It's a tri-level.) Since that time the basement has basically been home to the dogs, the massive waterbed, my PartyLite office/storage facility, and a dumping ground for accumulated junk.

So anyway, we've (I've) decided to move our bedroom back down here. After 4 years of storage and dogs it was pretty messy. No, it was filthy. Interesting difference between messy and filthy, isn't it? Ah words... So, I've been cleaning in preparation for moving back in. Steph has been over a few times to help or at least keep me company and she can tell you that the change has been dramatic. Just getting all the PartyLite stuff sorted has been a major undertaking. Three years of doing anything will rack up quite a bit of "stuff" to be dealt with when it's done. Wow. Ponder that sentence for a minute...

Well, I've been working on this project for over a week. A couple days ago I remembered a book I had on my shelf from a long time ago called Creating Sacred Space With Feng Shui by Karen Kingston. I knew it had a bagua in it and wanted to check it out again, which is why I got the book off the shelf, but of course I want the bedroom I share with my husband to be nothing less than a sacred space.

I've learned a lot in various venues over the past few years about the effects clutter can have on a person's life and Kingston talks quite a bit about space clearing in the book which was a good reminder for me. Tuesday was trash night and in addition to the large bag from the kitchen there were five bags of "stuff" from the basement. See, I've been clearing while I've been cleaning. Clearing out the past and the clutter and the trash and various things I've been holding onto for no good reason for I don't know how long. No matter how many times in my life I take on a clearing project, it never ceases to amaze me how good and freeing it feels to let go of "stuff."

My plan for the room involves moving the office back up to the second floor and rearranging the furniture down here. Remember the massive waterbed I mentioned? I'm not exaggerating. It's a king-size, underdrawer-pedestal, mirrored-lighted-bookcase-headboard, full-mirrored-canopy waterbed frame. The thing has to be completely disassembled to move an inch whether there's water in it or not. The mattress had been leaking a bit in a couple spots and we have a soft-side water mattress upstairs to replace it, so it was a good opportunity to move it, otherwise my precious husband probably would have strangled me for ever suggesting it. So I drained the bed, cleaned out the crap that had slipped down between the mattress and frame (ew) and cleared off the headboard. Then I had to take down the mirrors. They're plastic and lightweight, but they were coated with nast. Really, that's the only word for it. Nast. Icky, furry, cobwebby dirt on the top of the mirrors and framework and all the stuff Paul had stuck up there - old newspapers, aquarium bulbs, miscellaneous keepsakes. *shudder* I don't have OCD or anything, but I really don't like dirt. I've been "ick"ing the whole time I've been working on this whole undertaking because of the way it makes my hands feel. I may have to consider stock in Curel lotion. Regardless, with Paul's help, the bed has been completely disassembled and I wiped down each piece with a damp rag as it came off. Yay!

Yeah, so, I've been doing a lot of cleaning. Today I was on my hands and knees cleaning the floor where the bed used to be when it hit me... the S thing... Such a little thing. Today, I filled a bucket with warm water and Murphy's and wiped down the west wall. I moved the nightstand back out of the corner where I had wanted it placed and scrubbed out the dirt that had accumulated where the floor and walls meet. I got down on my hands and knees and wiped down the baseboard and heat register. I used a piece of broken drumstick or something I found under the register and cleaned out under the fins of the register. I must have found ten bucks in mostly dimes and pennies under there. And then, on my hands and knees, with a rag, I started cleaning the floor one square tile at a time. And it occurred to me. This whole thing has been a cleansing process. I've been purging what was old and no longer needed - trash, old papers, things, clothes, even memories. I've been condensing what must be kept - objects of use, objects of value, precious things that we look at and remember why we are who we are. And now I'm on to cleansing. I'm lovingly, carefully wiping away the yucky stuff that has clung to bed, the walls, the floor... and really to our lives.

The three year test drive

When my husband and I met, we'd both been through our share of relationships and heartbreak. I had a daughter who was three years old at the time from a previous marriage. He was still healing from the break up of a nearly four year relationship which ended months prior to our meeting. We had both learned from personal experience, as well as observing friends, that there seems to be a "make it or break it" point in most relationships around the three year mark. He had come to call it, and I have since adopted the term, the "three year test drive."

I have since developed a theory with regard to this phenomenon. The following things are general examples of things I personally have seen, heard, or experienced. They do not apply to every relationship, nor is it an all-encompassing list.

New relationship, year one: You've met someone new! Your heart goes pitter-pat. This person is all that and a bag of chips, the whole enchilada, everything you've ever wanted in a mate, and some things you didn't even realize you were looking for. Sure, they have their quirks, but it's endearing. You're falling in love. You want to spend every available waking minute with this person to find out everything you possibly can about them. It's bliss. And finally you come to that all important benchmark, your First Anniversary. You celebrate, and life goes on.

Same relationship, year two: You've entered the comfort zone. You've now spent four seasons with this person. You've probably met at least part of each other's families, spent a holiday or two together, seen them at their best, and maybe helped them through a rough patch. You're starting to notice little things here and there, that you may have overlooked at first, but everyone has their faults, nobody is perfect, and you can live with the occasional idiosyncracy. You are also letting your guard down and becoming more relaxed around this person. You probably don't clean your house obsessively before they come over. You may have revealed some of your less than wonderful habits - leaving the cap off the toothpaste, leaving the light on in the kitchen, leaving your socks on the floor, sleeping with the television on. But people can change. These are things each of you can live with... for now. After all, you've been with each other for two years. Relationships take work.

Year three: You've let your guard down. You pass gas in front of each other. You're honest enough to let each other know how you really feel about their best friend/mom/brother/child(ren). You've found you disagree on some aspect of politics or religion. Or you don't disagree on anything, and conversation has become routine. You want kids, they don't, or vice versa. They've always dreamed of a traditional church wedding with 200 guests, you're not even sure about marriage. Or you've already gotten married or moved in together and now you find you've asked them to not leave that light on or turn off the television for the 300th time and here you are turning it off again. They've asked you to pick up your socks and put your plate in the dishwasher for the 300th time and you still don't understand why it's such a big deal. One of you is always fashionably late, the other is always 15 minutes early. You come to realize there's only so much you can live with.

Basically, at this point, you decide one of two things. That you love this person in spite of all their faults, and they feel the same way about you, and you know you will spend the rest of your lives together not out of obligation, but because you can't imagine anyone taking their place. Or, you can't stand the idea of another Christmas with this person's family and they've already started staying later at work or spending another night a week at the bar. Make it or break it.

We made it. We are better than ever. Almost ten years later, and after five years of marriage, I thank God.

Moving me down the highway

Interesting how one's perspective on the most mundane things can change depending on the circumstances or their experience.

I drive a 1983 Volvo 240 Sedan. It defines P.O.S. The clearcoat is patchy, the maroon paint is faded down to white on the roof and hood. It has a rather gory battle scar on it's left quarter. It even sounds old and crotchety due to a broken exhaust pipe, not unlike a small aircraft. I have to turn up the radio to nearly full volume to hear it over the engine and my kids and I have to yell at each other to hear conversation. It's a manual transmission and missing an engine mount, so it lurches every time I change gears. I love the damned thing. I want a new one, but I love it.

My previous car was a 1992 Toyota Camry, V6 XLE, fully loaded, great stereo, sunroof, power everything. She was by no means perfect, but I loved her too. She was powerful, fast, comfortable, stylish--by comparison, far superior to my father-in-law's newer Camry, which was a base four cylinder. On the rare occasions that I had to use his for any reason when I still owned my V6, I would turn up my nose at its lack of power and grumble about the whininess of its engine. Bah!

Unfortunately, my mother-in-law totaled my beloved Toyota, so it is now probably scrap metal somewhere in Georgia. It had gotten battered over time by wounds inflicted by others--a car door (opened while I was passing), a projectile (16 oz. glass soda bottle thrown at my windshield while someone else was passing) and falling objects (four inch diameter tree on rear quarter). Until its last day, that car had more happen to it while parked than while driving.

Alright, so today I had to run an errand and borrowed my father-in-law's Camry. Aside from the learning curve that has to be reestablished everytime I get into a vehicle with an automatic transmission, i.e. no left foot or right hand action required, I was surprised by how the damned thing felt! It was smooth! It was powerful! I wanted it! Okay, maybe not it, but something like it...

Am I being unfaithful to my trusty beast? No. I still love it, and I'm not giving it up just yet. It needs some work, that's for sure, but it's a Volvo and with the proper respect, it'll run forever and keep me safer than most other cars on the road. I'm not sure who said it, but I love the quote, "If the grass looks greener on the other side of the fence, it's time to start watering your own."

Yes, of course, life is all about comparisons. Grass being greener, elusive ends of rainbows, 42. Contentment and gratitude are key, because when you love what you have, you can appreciate rather than covet that which you don't.