Life’s curiousities.

I’ll admit it right now, I’m in a weird mood today. Not peppy, not energetic, not glum, not humdrum.  I wanted to write something, but nothing too deep.  I don’t feel like making my brain work too much.  And then I started having all these random questions pop into my head.  The ones that make you go hmmm?

Why do you need to go pee as soon as you move from the pool into the hot tub? or as soon as you HEAR water running or see waterfalls?  What scientific property is triggering our bladder to say  – yup Right NOW would be good!?

Why is it that our perfectly quiet, occupied with their tv show kid, suddenly needs our full attention the second we get on the phone?  And this skill seems to be developed at birth and merely perfected as they mature.

And speaking of being on the phone, please tell me I’m not the only one who will secretly go to the bathroom, during a phone call, making a loud noise or cough to muffle the flush sound, because I “HAD TO GO NOW” and didn’t want to be “rude” and end the call? I’m not alone on this right? Oh please smile and nod, and admit you do too.

Why does food always fall on my my large “bosum” (or shelving unit as my best friend dubbed it)?  Putting a napkin in my lap is useless, nothing gets that far down!  It lands LOOONG before reaching any napkin. And nobody else is wearing their napkin like a bib, so I kind of feel like a loser if I try.  And why does can’t chocolate land on a dark shirt? why does it have to land on the WHITE part?  KWIM? And if I have a jacket or sweater with me, I don’t spill at all – its when I have NOTHING to cover it and a place to go – that SPLOP. bullseye! We have a stain folks!

Why could my DH drive the car with his music cranked and enjoy the scenery, but I have to play 20 questions with my children?  I’ve TRIED putting the music on and that just gets the “MOMMMM” louder.  I asked me kids that very question once – they told me – “well Dad just ignores us”.  GRRRR.  Somehow my Mommy brain doesn’t do well with that. Not fair. And now that they are older, the music is a source of a fight – and trying the “but I’m the driver” trump card doesn’t go well.

Why is it when you have a day off, and time to sleep in, you wake up early?  I don’t get the urge to wake up early when the alarm is set. Why is my circadian clock messing with me?

I’m also secretly hoping that I’m not the only person, who has released a fart in an empty grocery aisle and then hightailed my granny panties and shopping cart about 2 rows away so not to get CAUGHT! fart In church you are trapped and have to somehow hold that fart in, but c’mon, don’t you wish you could just let her rip?  Imagine the reaction!? LOL –    All those granny panty grey haired old biddies, absolutely HORRIFIED because after all they don’t have bodily functions.  WHATEVER.

Clearly my mind needs something else to focus on. I guess I should go get dressed. As comfy as lounging in my PJ’s is, murphy’s law says that NOW will be when somebody decides to show up at my door.  Ok,  I’m off in search of my wonderfully comfortable, well fitting granny panties, and you my friends can ponder on why there is braille on the drive up ATM window. (because all the blind drivers I know need one  – NOT!)

And that’s me. GP.

 

Housework

I definitely need a new housekeeper.  My current one is just NOT getting the job done at all.  It seems she spends all her time sleeping, or sitting at the computer, trolling Facebook, pinterest or playing solitaire.  She has absolutely NO work ethic at all.  She is a nice enough person,quite social in fact,  but just doesn’t seem to have any gumption.  In a full day, she might accomplish a couple loads of laundry or maybe load the dishwasher and wipe the counters.  She has been saying for WEEKS that she will clean the kitchen floor, and yet as of today – STILL not done.  She has been making some meals lately.  That’s been wonderful.  She  has even done some baking, but she didn’t clean up after herself. And now I have all these fattening treats to enjoy.  Bitch.

She finally washed and changed the sheets on my bed, but I did have to sleep a night without any, as they were still in the washer at bedtime.  She is just so easily distracted. She never seems to stick to a task and just “get’er done!”   Now I totally understand since the tasks are never ending and there is little appreciation realized when they are done. But its her responsibility. HER JOB.

Now before you think “must be nice to have a housekeeper at all” or “geez why don’t you fire her”, I’ll let you in on a secret.  Its me!  I’m the housekeeper. AND I’ve been trying to get myself fired for YEARS.  But is not working – apparently there is nobody to replace me.  Somehow my friends have the OCD  housekeepers that put away the mail, wipe up after every spill and even have trained the kids living there to vacuum and tidy without being ASKED!  SERIOUSLY!!  But nope I’m stuck with ME. (and my friends don’t actually have “hired” help either)

I have VERY good intentions,.  Just ask me when I’m in bed, what I’ll be doing the next day.  Oh my house will be spotless and everything will be where it should be. The paint won’t be chipped, the carpets won’t be stained and the smell of homemade bread will permeate the rooms.  The landscaping will be done, the lawn mowed and weeded.   This house would be a show home for Better Homes and Gardens.  Martha Stewart herself would be green with envy.  But then I wake up! Yeah my dreams and intentions are definitely NOT my reality.

Aren’t you supposed to leave your mail IN the mailbox for a week or more until you are ready to sort it?  At least there it isn’t lying on a counter making a mess!

And honestly HOW do you get a teenager to not store half of the kitchen’s dishes and utensils in his room? Even then, the dishwasher and sink are always full and there seems to only be a 30 second window when its all clean.  Because no sooner did you wash the last dish, then a kid comes for another glass of milk and piece of toast! NO – back away from my kitchen. Its clean and I don’t want that blob of jam hitting my floor or that dirty knife anywhere near my sink.  Just back away – I’m STILL holding the mop (well actually I’m not – since its been weeks since I picked it up)

I’ve often thought I should just get disposable dishes.  But I haven’t found a good source for disposable pots and fry pans. So I’m still stuck cleaning up.

And what is the deal with flat surfaces?  Is there a gravitational FORCE in every counter and table top that PULLS every bit of paper and miscellaneous clutter to it and HOLDS it in place with an iron grip.  I swear -I can pick up something from one surface and suddenly find it 5 minutes later on a different surface!  Its like it LEAPS from the recycle bin or trash and dances on the table singing “nah nah nah nah nah, you can’t catch me”

So yeah – I get why my housekeeper just gives up and runs to the computer.  My granny panties are being pulled by the gravitational force in the couch and sits down.  Its a flat surface (the couch, NOT my butt) . Its science – I can’t argue with science.  So I sit and blog about it instead!

And that’s me!

Food.

I LOVE FOOD!  Pure and simple.  I hear the line “Food, glorious food” from the musical Oliver, running on a never ending loop in my brain.  Food is enticing; food is comforting; food is stimulating; food is exhilarating.

I can sit and dream of food.  As I drive, everywhere I go, I see restaurants and then imagine the taste of each tempting morsel that they would make.  And I don’t have to be the least bit hungry.  I can sit on Pinterest for hours looking at images of delectable food creations and want to make every single one. RIGHT NOW.  I can easily flip from wanting savory to salty to sweet to sour in a matter of minutes. I can go from wanting a juicy steak, to cheesecake to Baileys to a milkshake.  Mmmm ok how about a steak dinner with a Baileys milkshake and cheesecake for dessert.  Oh with grilled asparagus, crab and bearnaise, garlic mashed potatoes, and a cocktail, mmm OMG – now I want that! And I repeat I don’t have to be hungry.

In fact that is the biggest issue.  I can be completely full and STILL want food because I want the TASTE and TEXTURE of it.  I will start craving certain foods and NOTHING else will satisfy.  Because its not about being hungry. Those without food issues will not get this obsession.

I said once to a group of women on all weight loss protein shakes, that I was tempted to just “chew the food, and then spit it out instead of swallowing it”.  One lady understood me instantly.  She would have been right there with me spitting like a bunch of guys with chewing tobacco.  However another lady was appalled.  “Isn’t that just like throwing up?”.  Hell NO!  I don’t intend to swallow it!!

Another lady suggested “well why don’t you have some veggies ready to snack on instead?”  DUHH WHAT?!  Let me make this clear – I’m not actually HUNGRY.  And trust me – I don’t CRAVE carrots and celery.  EVER.  The day I do, I’ll be more than happy to satisfy that craving!  I’m talking about craving a 7 layer cake made of brownies, cheese cake, and chocolate chip cookies.S'More Cake

There isn’t a vegetable on this planet that will replace my desire for this cake!  I could eat every veggie or piece of fruit til I was exploding at the seams and then some – and guess what – I’ll STILL WANT THE CAKE!

Yup.  Because its about savouring that thick chewy brownie and allowing that creamy cheesecake to melt on my tonuge, while enjoying that crunch of the cookie.  From this description you’d think I’d had this cake before wouldn’t you?  NOPE.  never.  I saw it yesterday on pinterest for the first time and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Potlucks and Buffets are hellish.  I want EVERYTHING there.  I go from dish to dish thinking “oh yes, I want that, and that, oh and that.  mmmm MUST have THAT!”  til my plate is overflowing.  Then I HAVE to go back with another plate for all the things I either missed the first round, or LOVED so much I must have MORE.  “please sir, can I have some more?”   MOOOORE?!  (oliver, oliver, never before has a boy wanted more).  But then I get full.  Damn it – there was more food to try.  And I walk away stuffed beyond comfort and totally UNSATISFIED.  Unsatisfied because I couldn’t consume every dish that was calling to me.

So I will spend days, THINKING about the foods I didn’t get to try.  Dreaming of a chance to go back and have them.  Meanwhile berating myself for being such a glutton and reminding myself “this is why you are overweight”

I’ve been to dieticians and nutritionists.  I KNOW what a balanced, healthy diet looks like.  I’m perfectly aware of what the right choices would be.  But that doesn’t address my food “issues”.   Foods consumed in the dark with nobody watching don’t count right?  If you eat the ice-cream directly out of the container, or just trim a 1/4″ strip off the edge of the cake, or just take a few more bites of the leftover applecrisp – NOBODY will know.  RIGHT?!  If you smuggle the frozen shortbread or Christmas nuts/bolts just a few times over the year – NOBODY will remember how many were there to start with. Right? However when Christmas rolls around the following year and the once full container of nuts and bolts has barely any left, it DOES become kinda obvious.  Hmmm.  I think SOMEBODY noticed.

I’ve been obsessed with food since I was young. Sneaking a cookie and running to the bathroom to eat it or keeping a spoon hidden in the bookcase opposite the deep freezer, to make a quick ice-cream snitch that much quicker, HAPPENED. FREQUENTLY.   I remember lurking under the stairs or being “trapped” in the shower stall of the basement ensuite, while my mum did laundry in the room next door, or risk being caught red handed with an illicit food item.  And you can’t casually emerge from under the stairs without attracting attention to yourself.  So you wait. And Damn it, she’s FOLDING the entire load NOW. Oh mannnn. How long will I have to hide?

My Mum tried a cookie diet.  9 special lemon cookies instead of the meal.  Oh I soooo wanted to do that diet too.  I was the fat kid.  I needed to lose weight.  I was teased plenty.  I was always seeking some solution to losing weight. When I first learned about anorexia and bulimia, I became fascinated with it.  I thought it would be a cool way to lose weight.  It took several years to have the will power to self induce vomiting, but I learned how. I was pleased with myself.  And in university I tried to cut out food.  But I just couldn’t.  So I binged and purged instead. Much more satisfying, cause I got to eat. but it’s not a great pattern – esp. when you pass out in your own bathroom.  Although I have to share – if you puke right away – the food isn’t digested so its not like vomit – it still tastes food – except ice cream – that’s just gross.  TMI.  I know I know.  So I’ve learned – don’t binge on ice cream.  No, seriously – I don’t purge anymore.  But I do binge. People who say – “oh one chocolate or one cookie is plenty” have NO CLUE.  There is NO SUCH THING as ENOUGH.

Food is an obsession.  Weight watchers worked for a while, but they don’t address the disordered eating side.  Most “diets” don’t address them.  Instead I need to find the role food is playing in my mind.  WHY is it comforting?  WHY do the tastes and textures  give me such satisfaction(which is why apple pie gum – does NOT help me – I just want pie even more)?  What does food represent to me?  How do I move past my long established relationship with food, and establish a healthy one?

I’m working at it.  I’m making steps each day in the right direction.  But each time I falter from my “plan” or “goal”  I get angry and frustrated. I get all the “you failed, you suck, you cheated” messages.  And then I want to comfort myself even more with “bad” choices. I LOVE FOOD.

So even as I sit here, totally full from my protein shake, I’m dreaming of “what would I eat next if I could have anything?”  http://richriley.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Vi-Shape.jpgThe shakes work – I’ve lost weight and inches.  I’m “craving” sweets less often. My blood sugars have dropped.  I’ve chosen SALAD at restaurants over steak a few times recently. That’s unheard of  – TRUST ME!. I drink more water esp when I crave food.  So I know that I’m inching my way towards healthier ways. But I’m a long way from having my granny panties falling off from being too big.

So I’m going to go back to my recipe books and dream of more food. Because at least dreaming isn’t as damaging as eating. And when its time for my next meal I’ll try and choose a shake instead of caving into my desire to have something mouthwatering, fattening and much more satisfying. MMMMM FOOD.  How I love you.

And that’s me. GP.

 

A photo inspiration montage.

As I spend way too many precious hours perusing Pinterest, I find little gems.  I have a whole board of pins of quotes.  Some are just goofy.  Many parallel my sarcastic outlook on life, and others are pure inspiration and reminders of what life can be.

I know I have a very pessimistic view on things.  That I dwell on the negatives. That I put  myself down pretty much every waking moment.  But when I pause and read these inspirational qutoes, I’m able to stop the recorded loop of crap in my brain.  Even if its just for a second – and I can think YES, that’s right.  Or that’s what I’ll become. Or even have HOPE for a while that my future will be something much brighter than it currently seems.

Pinned Image

The first is simply about my writing.  I love how creating this blog has freed my mind of some of the thinking traps and allowed me to publicly question  my thoughts.

The next few I was instantly drawn to because of the ocean or water aspect.  They bring me right back to my opening blog about the storm of my life.  And how things are changing.  <3

Don't confuse your path with your destination. Just because it's stormy now doesn't mean that you aren't headed for sunshine.God knows

I get so frustrated trying to tell people what I’m experiencing, or dealing with and knowing they just have NO CLUE. https://fbcdn-sphotos-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/545278_4232053159360_876098963_n.jpgAnd really think that their pat answer or pithy response will help. It often just leaves me feeling worse or MORE isolated.  So I need to really keep these messages in my heart.

 

The next few I cherish because they remind me to look for the good, and that each day is what I make of it.  Their messages help me re-frame the “all or nothing” thinking into something more realistic and less foreboding. That perhaps I need to give myself more credit and respect myself more.  And I think that the mere fact that these are even printed suggests that others need this reminder too –  which is another important reminder to myself, as I often think that I’m the ONLY one ever thinking this shit about myself or my life.

True...

Let this be a source of encouragement for you today. :) (Click on the image to see more!)

There are so many more that I have.  But this seems like a lot of wisdom in a small space.  I intend to go back and read this each day, so that I can start with a smile.  roflol

And just because I really can’t end a post without some crazy reference to my underwear of choice…here is yet another reason I choose to wear Granny Panties. I do hope you don’t find yourself in the same predicament when presented with a thong! Remember the term FLIP FLOP!  (and NO that isn’t a reference to my boobs!!)

And that’s me! GP

That inner voice.

Well this post is thanks to my wonderful therapist.  She has spent the last 2 1/2 years with me on this roller coaster of life.  She has seen me at my absolute lowest of lows and has been riding the waves every week on my journey of healing.

Today we spent a lot of time challenging my inner voice. I’m not talking about the one that guides you well. You know – the OTHER one – that negates everything good, by pointing out the bad.    Some call it the dog or man on their shoulder.  Michelle from the Cedric Centre  calls it “the drill sergeant,” in her book Food is Not the Problem.  http://www.cedriccentre.com/books/

Honestly, no matter what you call that voice – its annoying to hear. That incessant chirping in my head never shuts up. I referred to that voice today as “psycho bitch”.  I can’t give myself accurate credit for ANYTHING without my psycho bitch telling me how it isn’t good enough, or I didn’t do x,y or z, I “should” have done better. When the voice was called The Drill Sergeant, I could accept it, but I didn’t really feel a direct association to her. But Wow, when I called her a “psycho bitch”, that upset me. I DO associate myself with that voice.  So suddenly I was calling myself a psycho bitch, and I was hurting yet again.

I don’t want to be a psycho bitch.  I don’t want to BE that voice.  And yet I’m guided or rather “mis”guided constantly by her.  I don’t get how she’s “protecting me” or “helping me get thru anything”.  She’s pushing and shoving and knocking me down every time I try and make a single step.  She’s my storm wrecking my beach, and hiding my shells.  She’s breaking up the shells and leaving jagged edges for me to cut my feet on.  And I’m fed up.

I don’t want to be this negative, this jaded, this distrustful.  I don’t want to be lazy or useless.  I don’t want to be fat, or diabetic.  I don’t want to be mentally unstable and depressed.  And yet it feels like EVERY single time I make a step in the direction of something “better”, or “healthier” or more balanced, good ole psycho bitch is there to make sure I end up back on my ass on the ground. And THEN points, laughs and tells me how useless and crappy I am.  That I’ll never be better or successful and that I’m a FAILURE.

It has happened so often that that feels normal. So I’ve just come to accept that I’m a failure.  That I AM this psycho bitch who can’t do anything right.  And that makes me sad, so I cry on the inside, and often those tears leak out. So now I’m a blubbering psycho bitch.  GREAAAT.  Just what i wanted.  How attractive. NOT!!!!

My counselor says that the role of the drill sergeant has value and a purpose, but needs to let my other parts – the ones that see the good things – have more time and space.  Ok.  So we made a list of things I’m proud of doing.  Not monumental life changing things – everyday stuff.  And EVERY time I wrote something down, my psycho bitch was pestering me with the “yeah but you didn’t do….” or “Yeah but you SHOULD be doing…”.   SHUT UP!!! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  I don ‘t want to hear it anymore.  I’ve HEARD you long enough.  JUST SHUT UP!!! PLEASE!

There isn’t enough room for that attitude.  She’s hogging all the space.  She’s controlling every move and every thought.  I want to be able to sit in my LR right at this moment and see the 4 piles of folded towels and linens and think “good job – you did the laundry”  But instead I’m hearing “lazy lazy lazy you STILL haven’t put those away.  Are you EVER gonna get off your ass and do it?”

Instead of looking at the pile of mail, bills and flyers beside me and thinking “Geez I’m a slob – those need to be put away and/or in the garbage” I WANT to be able to think “Yeah – you sorted all the mail, and paid the bills. Great job”   But I just CAN’T.

And even though the thoughts are bringing me down, and it would take all of 5 minutes to get the towels put away, or the mail into the recycle bin.  I can’t do that either! It’s like I WANT to be stuck – so the psycho bitch can be right and at least then I can have something to believe that’s true.  YUP I’m a lazy useless no good failure.  Psycho Bitch has known it all along and now I can see she is right.

I can’t seem to find that switch to change my thinking.  I feel so stuck and I’m so frustrated.  If you don’t live with an overbearing inner voice, I can’t explain it.  Just imagine your worst enemy following you around NON-STOP nitpicking at EVERY single thing you do. Relentlessly trying to push you into an abyss from which there is no return. Until finally you just fall into it and say “there” “you got me”.

I guess its the same thing as parents and teachers being told “don’t label kids with negative associations, or they may just achieve them ”  Is that what happened to me?  Was I told “you are so smart, you can do better”  “Nothing lower than a B is acceptable” too often, and now I can’t be happy with average?

Everyone has inner voices, just like everyone wear’s underwear.  (OR should!!).  But our voices seem to have different sizes.  Some drill sergeants are small and don’t occupy much space – like wearing a thong I guess!  My drill sergeant’s voice is like my panties – OVERSIZED and dominant.  But unlike my granny panties which are comfortable, my inner voice is NOT comforting.  So I’m going to keep working at hearing her comments and telling her to step aside and let others speak.  That I’m NOT INTERESTED in her feedback THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

And that’s me! GP

 

Allergies and Peanut Butter

As a kid I knew of ONE child who had allergies.  She was allergic to dust and pet hair. Her room was a sterile environment.  She wasn’t allowed any books or toys that could collect dust. No stuffies, no rugs, etc.  She wasn’t allowed to my house because we had pets. And at Guide camps she sure suffered when everyone brought out their dusty foam mattresses, old sleeping bags as we slept in ancient canvas tents.  She was a sniffling sneezing mess.  I felt so sorry for her.

I wasn’t aware that the reason we always had ham and turkey at Christmas was because my aunt was allergic to turkey.  As I grew older I discovered my Grandma was allergic to Shellfish.  But it wasn’t a big deal. I’d never heard of an epipen or life-threatening reactions.

Allergies just weren’t talked about.   At 7 when I got my ears pierced, we diligently used the ear care cleaner in the pink bottle.  By day 2, I was covered in bright red, itchy welts. 

 

I took a bath in baking soda.  My mum said I was likely allergic to something in the ear care stuff and we stopped using it.  In my early teens I got mega itchy and a dot like rash every time I swam in a pool. Again Mum said – probably allergic to chlorine.  Anytime I was around cigarette smoke, I’d get congested, have a hard time breathing etc. I guessed maybe an allergy?  At 17 I reacted to a penicillin medication with the same red itchy welts I’d had 10 years earlier. And the Dr said – likely an allergic reaction. I had some allergy testing done in my early 20’s.  They didn’t test most of the above items – instead it was revealed that I’m allergic to clover (ahh, now it makes sense why when people mow their lawns I get sneezy and stuffy) and tomato (now that rash on my hands I got each time I did tomato prep at the sandwich deli made sense).  

I basically thought allergies meant that you would end up itchy and sneezing.  Nothing life threatening. Just inconvenient. (It never occurred to me that my stomach issues might be related to EATING tomato)

 

During my university years, a classmate was suddenly hospitalized.  She was making peanut butter cookies and suddenly couldn’t breathe.  She’d made them zillions of times in the past.  Turns out she was now allergic to peanut butter.  Now she had to carry an epipen.   My husband and one of his brothers both developed an allergy to dust and pet fur in their late 30’s. They both could just suffer thru it. But how can someone just suddenly become allergic?  And to the point of being life threatening?  It doesn’t make sense?

But now as a teacher and parent, I encounter life threatening allergies with kids all the time.  There isn’t a pre-school, elementary class, cub group etc, that doesn’t have someone majorly allergic to something.  Epipens are common.

I know kids with major allergies to nuts, peanuts, wasps, eggs, dairy, even mustard. This is in addition to all the wasp, dust, feather, pet, etc allergies.

HOW did our society end up so allergic?  Is our environment so toxic our bodies are rebelling?  or is it our endless use of disinfectants etc causing a reverse response, to the point of rejecting our basic surroundings? Is our food so processed that we can’t handle it anymore?

Lets face it, eggs and dairy and nuts and feathers and pets have been around for centuries.  And yet there isn’t story after story of someone’s great grandpa just dropping dead at the dinner table because he couldn’t breathe after eating something.  Or not able to work in the field or barn because they were sneezing too much.  So WHAT HAPPENED?  Its radically changed in my 40 years.

EpiPen

My own daughter now has an epipen.  She was stung by a wasp in June.  She has been stung 2 other times and never reacted at all.  But this time, her face swelled up. You couldn’t see her bottom lip because the top one protruded so much. One eye was nearly swollen closed.  “likely an allergy, better carry an epipen in case the next time is worse”.   Are we over-reacting?  Part of me thinks yes, and yet the part of me that doesn’t want my daughter to suffer – says NO, so we have the epipen.

However, do I think its right to ban peanut products in schools etc? NO I don’t!!  Do I want another child to die? Of course not.  But does that child have the right to dictate what my kid can have for lunch? I don’t think so.  My son has an allergy to dust (as do many).  But did the school rip out their ancient chalk boards? NO.  He and all the asthma suffers (and THAT never was around when I was a kid either), all have to suffer.  Can you ban all the wasps from flying around the playground? NO.  If my kid had a wheat allergy would you ban sandwiches? NO.  If my kid had a dairy allergy would everyone be told – don’t bring milk for lunch? NO.  But for some reason Peanut butter is special!  And I think its a bunch of BULL!

Banning peanut butter isn’t making the school safe.  If my kid eats PB for breakfast and doesn’t wash her hands, or brush her teeth, there is still a trace amount of it on her fingers or breath.  So IF your child is sensitive to the smell or to trace amounts, banning it from the school, hasn’t protected her has it? My child might use the monkey bars.  Or worse my child might sit and read a library book AT HOME, while enjoying her PB&J, AT HOME. That book may now be contaminated!  And since your kid may borrow that book – I guess he could die?  So I guess we better ban library books from going home too? c’mon… Where does it end?

For years, my very sensitive picky eater ate virtually NO protein products AT ALL.  Trying to feed her has been beyond frustrating and challenging.  Peanut butter has been ONE staple.  Often it was the ONLY protein she would consume.  (and I mean the ONLY one!).

So if I complied with the “no peanut butter” rule, my child’s health and nutrition would be severely impaired. My son at one point was on a mega high fibre diet.  He couldn’t just substitute ham in his sandwich for the peanut butter. (as I was told by the school) Ham had no fibre, his PB had 2 grams.  His jam had 1.  There was 3 extra grams of fibre I was getting into him. His granola bar had 5 grams. (but it had nuts and I was being told NO to that too)  It was for his health. He had a medical condition.  But the allergy kid’s rights were trumping my kids’ rights.  I don’t think so! I was told, just feed him the fibre stuff at home. WHAT?!  Really?

You want me to get 35 grams of fibre into my child via 2 meals?  uhhh NOOOO.  It needed to be given evenly throughout his day.  I stood my ground. I was the enemy.  I was inconsiderate.  I apparently wanted kids to die.  NO I didn’t.  But I wasn’t going to let someone’s allergy bully me.

I have NO issue if you want MY kid to eat their life threatening PB sandwich in a separate area.  I have told my kids – WASH your hands VERY carefully.  Don’t touch anything with dirty fingers or let your food touch anything. Ask if anyone around has an allergy.  BE CONSIDERATE.  I’m trying to raise Allergy aware kids. Not assassins.

I get that the mother of a peanut allergy kid is freaked out every time she lets her kid venture out into his day, concerned he might react or die.  But that child too, has to learn that this world is a risky environment and to be cautious.  Carry and USE the epipen if needed.

The mom of a girl who is very allergic to mustard (which is in some cheese – did you know that?) AGREES with me.  She didn’t insist on hot dog days being banned because some kids want mustard on them.  NO. She didn’t think that was reasonable.  Instead her daughter is just MEGA careful.  To me this makes sense.

So I will continue to send my kids with their PB sandwiches or granola bars with NUTS.  We will not substitute the highly sugary Nutella spread instead of Peanut butter.  We tried almond butter – my kids didn’t like it – but using Nutella or almond butter doesn’t help the kid with the tree nut allergy anyways.  This month my daughter is a lunch monitor in a class with a kindergarten child allergic to peanut butter. I’m in dilemma.  My child is CHOOSING to lunch monitor.  She didn’t choose that class.  That 5 yr old is NEW to school and probably not as aware of safety.  So I’m thinking for the ONE month she is in this class, I won’t send peanut butter.  Or maybe I will and tell her to eat it at recess?  I dunno. I haven’t decided what’s best.

I’m not out to kill anyone.  I’m a good person.  I’m a considerate person.  I don’t want ANY child to suffer.  Including MINE!

And that’s me! GP.

 

Scrapbooking Tips.

Last week I was at Michael’s buying a few scrapbooking supplies and the lady in front of me asked “What advice you would give a brand new scrapbooker?”

GREAT Question. I instantly gave her the advice “don’t over analyze your page.  You will be your worst critic. Just leave it. Its better on the page than in a box.”    I don’t know how many times I’ve wanted to redo a page or am just “not happy with it” but have left it.  It may not be great or a work of art, but those photos are now out of the box.

Then I added “Let your photos be the focus, don’t overdo it with stickers and embellishments”.  Its easy as a beginner to be sticker happy in an attempt to make it fancy. Its just clutter. I’ve been guilty of it and I’m usually even more disappointed in the result

As she was paying for her purchase, my mind kept racing with ideas to share.  I called out one more “don’t be overwhelmed with the magazine pictures.  You don’t have to make each page a work of art.”  At that moment the lady behind me said “that is such fabulous advice.”  And I was struck with a thought – maybe I am better at this then I give myself credit for. I’ve been scrapping for 11 years, but I don’t think of myself as that good.

So the entire way to my destination I was thinking – If I was to teach a scrapbooking class – what would it look like? What would I say? What would the focus be? But I also realized that I’ve already helped at least 4 others, become scrapbookers. Each with their own style.

I don’t take classes – I’ve done a couple of short workshops – but I’ve always found that even as an experienced scrapbooker I get frustrated. I hate measuring and trying to keep up.  I also hate having a result that I then have to find the pictures for.  I don’t scraplift from magazines.  I MIGHT use something as an inspiration but virtually everything I’ve done is MINE.  MY idea.  As a result, my pages aren’t the stunning works of art that are in the magazines.  But that’s OK.  They are MINE.  ALL MINE. And if “I” like it, then that should be all that matters.  Ohhh, but it’s sooo hard not to compare.  When the lady beside you has just spent 6 hours painstakingly making flowers to adorn her page and the result is exquisite, its hard to look at your own and be satisfied with mediocre.  But I digress – back to what *I* would recommend.  I’m virtually self taught.  So I’ve learned from my mistakes and from talking and watching others – and that leads me to my first tip…

  • Don’t be afraid to experiment.  The result may not be exactly what you hoped for, but LEARN from it.
  • Don’t pull it all apart   – its fine to fiddle and tweak something, but leave it!  Make the NEXT page better – but don’t spend hours redoing this one.  MOVE ON – you may never LOVE this page – but someone else might.  And honestly those pictures are off the computer and onto a page. Even if you think its ugly its BETTER than it was.
  • Let your pictures be the focus – in years to come is the viewer going to spend more time looking at your fancy flowers or your picture? Yes the embellishments etc can make the page look AMAZING, but is the time worth it?  That’s a personal choice. For me, I don’t have the time. I have way too many pictures waiting for me and kids etc using up all my time.  I still like the KISS rule – Keep it simple stupid.
  • Throw away the ruler – this one will get some people just cringing.  I use it occasionally but honestly you free yourself when you allow “eyeballing” to be your guide.  Eyeballing will not be perfect!  That’s right!!  EXACTLY.  It doesn’t need to perfect!  Its faster, its less fiddly. It’s EASIER. When I mat a photo – I stick my picture onto a chunk of paper – lining up 2 edges with an eyeballed border – then I use my trimmer and cut the other 2 sides to be “about the same”.  You get pretty good at knowing how much to trim etc.  None of this “cut a piece 5 5/8th’s by 4 3/4 etc.”  NOPE – stick cut cut. done!  Easy peasy.

BUT – that doesn’t help a newbie get started.  HOW do you begin? What is the FIRST step? Here’s what I’ve suggested:

  1. Pick 3 to 5 photos of one event/theme that you like, but aren’t of a major event – you don’t want to mess up or experiment with your baby photos, or your great grandma’s portrait.
  2. When choosing photos remember you don’t need ALL of them.  If 3 or 4 are similar, pick ONE of those.  If you have a close up – USE it!
  3. Look at photos – is there a colour you want to highlight or enhance – this will guide you to what background or mat colours for the paper.
  4. If the photo is busy – use plain – if the photo is simpler – you can use patterns more easily.
  5. Putting photos straight onto a pattern is often harder to look at – too distractin. Mat them first with a solid colour.
  6. You want the viewer to look INTO not OFF the page – so faces, gestures etc should face inwards not out to margins.
  7. You want the photos to FLOW – so the eye is led around the page – allow something to overlap to another item -whether its a bit of ribbon, or a strip of paper or a flower.  If your pictures are all “floating” you will feel something is missing.
  8. JOURNAL! At least add the date and a name.  You don’t have to put a long description.  AND don’t be afraid of your writing.  Just do it. Don’t wait to use the computer, unless you really will. (I’ve left too many pages with blank spots waiting for the jouranling and never got to it)  In years from now, others seeing your book will be glad to see your own penmanship – whether its good or bad. If you really really hate your writing – you can use sticker or stamping or hide writing under a flap.  BUT please please – LABEL IT!! And do it NOW.
  9. Empty space is OK.  You don’t need to fill it.  If you add something – ask yourself – is this ENHANCING my photos.
  10. When you are ready – add a technique – for each layout, try a new one – such as paper tearing, inking, brads, ribbon, different colours, multiple patterns etc.  THEN start adding them together. Play until you find what you YOU like. Look at magazines for IDEAS.  But don’t feel you have to measure up to what’s been published. If you constantly compare yours to theirs – you’ll never be happy.

And that’s MY style.  Keep in mind I wear Granny panties, so those who prefer briefs or thongs, may have an entirely different approach.  And that’s OK.  Nobody should be the same! That’s why Scrapbooking is an art form.  It’s unique – just like me.

And that’s me! GP.

 

Tears of Love

 

It seems I’m destined to cry.  A LOT.  For so long I’ve wept or sobbed tears of grief. Then tears of endless frustration and exhaustion.  Now its seems I am crying over good things.  I’m like a permanent  fountain of tears set to ON.  All the time.

Lately anytime anybody does or says anything good to me or about me, I cry.  I just instantly well up. If I can’t dodge the comment or change the subject I end up crying.  I’m embarrassed.  I feel like I’m being overly sensitive and silly.

I think I’ve struggled so long thinking I was alone, or being negatively judged, that when someone shows compassion and understanding I just burst.  I’m too tired to be strong by myself.  But I’m not willing to believe that others value me or honestly WANT to help.  So whenever it happens I’m overwhelmed by the love and support.  Then WHOOSH. Tears.

They are like a relief I guess.  An outward release.  I’m NOT alone.  I am loved.  I’m not imagining this burden.  It is real.  It is hard.  But I NEED an off switch.  I’m out of kleenex.

I wish I could accept in my heart that my challenges are not a sign of my inadequacies. Each time a family member or friend supports me and points out that its not me, I want to fight it.  Because inside its easier to blame myself than to just accept life as it’s been dealt to me. And now as I’m clawing my way up into the land of the living – I keep getting overwhelmed with the LOVE.  And I have a hard time accepting that love too.  Why would anyone want to love ME?    I’m messed up.  What makes me worthy of their time, love and efforts?

So then because DESPITE me being messed up – I’m being given tidbits or huge chunks of love and my heart melts and LEAKS freaking tears!  So I’m just a crying machine.  I should be given a role on TV as “crying person”  because I have it mastered.  Cry now – OK! Easy.  I just have to think of something sad, something that makes me mad, or something that makes me HAPPY and I can cry.  BOOM.  Open the flood gates!

People talk about tears of joy, and sure we see them at weddings etc.  But honestly – reading an email makes me cry. BOOM.  Or when a friend argues with me that I’m justified being on LTD and not a burden on society. BOOM.  Or that yes dealing with my family’s issues is tough. BOOM.  or seeing my daughter’s smile light up the room as she tries her new dance class. BOOM.  or having a wonderful heart to heart with my son, and seeing his maturity. BOOM.  or realizing just how much I’m considered part of my husband’s family. BOOM.

So hoist up your pants right to your panties, because my tears are leaving puddles everywhere I go.  At least for once it’s tears of love.

And that’s me. GP

 

 

 

Special Needs Integration

Oh boy.  I’m bound to piss off someone and everybody all in one blog.  Well here goes nothing…

In our area, all special needs kids, no matter how extreme, are integrated into regular elementary classrooms.  And typically the gov’t will fund a full time Educational Assistant (EA) to chase and babysit them.  However if you have a child with a minor learning disability or even a moderate behaviour challenge, there is no funding for any behaviour/educational support at all.

I’m a teacher and a parent and I don’t like it from either angle. Don’t get me wrong – I think integration works for some kids, but it isn’t for everyone. Our current system SUCKS.

Honestly, how is the non-verbal, screaming autistic child running through the hallways, disturbing every class, benefiting?  Why does she deserve a full time EA to chase her around?  Are all the other kids learning tolerance of her disabilities?  Or are they developing frustrations and headaches and hoping that they don’t have to be in the same class with THAT child again?  I’ll tell you – its the second one!

When that same Autistic child is forced to be part of the school musical and is crying and wailing and being held in place by her EA, its not enjoyable for the audience.  She is ruining the show for everyone.  And I really don’t think that child is benefiting either. So WHY are we doing this?

Its apparently acceptable to throw things and disrupt everyone and have special exemptions if you are a child with severe “issues”, but heaven forbid my child get any special accommodations for her needs.

Mine has Oppositional Defiance Disorder and is a highly sensitive person.  She is triggered by many sounds (such as kids screaming in the halls! or even chalk on a blackboard).  She is instantly calmed by listening to music.  However, when the request to allow her to bring an iPod and use it to calm down was made – it was refused.  iPods aren’t allowed and if an exception was made for her it would have to be made for everyone.  REALLY?  Then why does the autistic girl have her own to use whenever she wants!?  Honestly are her needs MORE important than my child’s? The apparent answer seems to be YES. We cater to the extreme. If you are more normal – SUCK IT UP.

My child is bright. When calm, she will learn a lot and contribute both in school and to the community.  What is that other girl going to do?  She is a lovely girl but she will always need support. She isn’t going to hold down a job.  Yet the school is giving more time and money to her education.  I think it’s absolute CRAP.

My son has dyslexia.  He is also gifted.  But because of his learning disability he hasn’t been able to excel.  He struggles to get any written work done. While he was in elementary school, I had to fight for 5 years just to get him tested!   He got some help one year when he sat next to the ASD child.  THAT boy had a full time EA to help him. So that EA helped my son. It was such a benefit.  He loved the help; he would have had way more success and way more confidence in his abilities if he’d had more help in other years. But NO! –the funding is for the ones who aren’t going to amount to much.  My son’s current teacher has dubbed him “the future prime minister”  She see’s that much potential in him.  But its not come from any EA support. Its come from hours upon hours of support from ME!!!  And persevering through many tantrums, thrown books and lots of “I’m so stupid” crying jags, as he struggled, not understanding why he “couldn’t get it”.  ARGHHH!!

Society needs to put that little extra out NOW, for some of the borderline kids.  Give them that boost and help while they are young and let them fly.  But instead we spend all the time carrying the kids who will need to be carried forever. They aren’t ever going to fly; leaving those who could have learned to fly still struggling because the helpers were too busy carrying our “special” kids.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve seen many successful integrated kids too. I think all kids deserve a classroom where their needs are met. If they are able to sit and partake in a regular class with minimal disruption – its a good situation for all.  However a special program where basic life skills are taught would be better for some. I had a child one year whose EA spent the entire year, toilet training him. Seriously!!  Yet my kid couldn’t get any reading support?!  I had to teach a child choir who could only HONK out sounds to talk, much less sing. And all the other kids who wanted to sing had to tolerate it.  And this is OK?

NO. IT’S. NOT!  Not for me as a teacher; not for me as a parent; not for my students and not for my children. It’s not OK.  Integration isn’t for ALL. IT NEEDS TO CHANGE.

And I’ll stop now before I get my granny panties all in a knot!

That’s me. GP.

Death

Being out of town and on the road for a month gave me lots of time to think.  I also got to see many of my very closest friends; had many heart to hearts, shed tears, and got some rest. Several times during the month I’d think about a blog post, but  I like posting in solitude with no distractions.  In a tiny trailer with 2 kids, there isn’t true private time.  I often shed tears while writing, and certainly didn’t want to have to explain that to my kids. So now I’m home with several “ideas” to write about.

Over the years, I’ve had many long term bouts with depression.  I’m on medications and trying to get control.  But because of that, drs often have to ask “have you thought about dying” (they are actually asking “are you gonna off yourself”).  Well the answer to have I THOUGHT ABOUT IT is YES.  Will I off myself – NO. Am I suicidal right now NO.  Do any of you reading this need to get worried. NO!!!! So relax and keep reading.

The truth is I’ve had many thoughts about dying and killing myself and disappearing etc.  At times I’ve had more serious thoughts.  As a teen, twice I took too many Tylenol.  Or thought I had.  When the dose is 1 pill, 9 seemed like a lot!  I had the intent to kill myself. Part of me wanted to die.  But there was another part that I guess stopped me from taking more and more.  Granted – that was the last 9 in the bottle.  Who knows.  I didn’t even pass out.  Nobody even really knew about it.

In university I was bulimic.  I was so desperate to be thin, but I just needed to eat.  I had to eat.  I’d try and not eat but by the end of the day I’d scarf down whatever.  Then I’d feel guilty so I’d puke.  I got good at it.  I didn’t really care if it would harm my throat etc.  I wanted to lose weight.  And I did.  And I got compliments.  It was great.  Until I passed out at the toilet one night.  SCARY.  I realized I had to change my ways.  So I began eating, and occasionally puked.  I stopped myself from puking.  Eventually I just gained weight and tried to accept it.  But by then I had my DH (my dear husband) and I wasn’t as worried about being THIN to be accepted.  DH loved me.  I didn’t want to hinder my health or die, so I vowed never to induce my vomiting again.  I’ve stayed true to that vow.  Unfortunately the binge eating still exists.  Another battle, another blog.

For years my dad has said he isn’t afraid of dying. He said, he didn’t WANT to die, but wasn’t afraid of it.  I always found that statement very unsettling and upsetting.  How can you NOT be afraid of dying?  its DEATH!  I couldn’t comprehend how ANYONE, young or old, healthy or terminal could accept death peacefully.  I just found the whole idea SCARY.

On TV I’ve seen plot lines where someone has died and the loved one touches the body or lies with it etc.  I distinctly remember the Grey’s anatomy character Izzy lying in bed with just died Denny and I thought EWWW.  How can you touch a dead body? Isn’t that gross?

Then DH died. I was so grief stricken.  I immediately crawled into his hospital bed. I had waited 3 weeks to lie with him.  Now I was never going to again.  I wasn’t concerned about the dead body.  I was just with my DH.  I didn’t ever want to leave him.  I had to be dragged away.  At his viewing I kissed him. I touched him.  it wasn’t gross or morbid. These were going to be my last moments EVER with him. I loved him.  Suddenly Death was something different.

In the time since he’s gone I’ve had a couple of psychic messages from him.  He is existing in a realm outside of our understanding.  Suddenly I don’t fear death at all.

I don’t WANT to die.  I’ve thought about it.  There have been some very troubled moments.  I even have a plan.  Heck I’ve had more than one plan.  But a plan doesn’t mean action. It merely indicates that I’m a methodical, organized, over thinker of things.  But knowing that I’ll see DH again, puts me at peace about dying.  I’m not scared of it.  I get what my dad says now.  He’s not ready, but he is prepared.

In the past year I refused to take a lot of my medications.  I’m diabetic. I NEED to take these meds.  So my one therapist told my I was “passive suicidal”.  I didn’t care. My response was “ok sure, whatever”  I was too depressed to care.  I didn’t really enjoy living. I knew I had to live for my kids. At times that seemed like a small concession when if I actually died I could be with DH and NOT deal with all the crap being dished out at me in the here and now. But I kept living. Probably slowly killing myself with poor health.  But I didn’t want to die. So I changed.  I started to care.  I started to take my meds again. I’m working on improving.

Each day I’m working on living.  I’m trying to lose weight so I’ll need smaller granny panties.  But I’m startled to realize that I don’t fear or even dread death.  It really doesn’t scare me at all anymore.  It’s no longer a black ominous void.  So although I’m not yet ready to die, I am at peace with the idea.

And that’s me.

 

 

God and Faith

I grew up believing in God.  I grew up with Christian values.  My family occasionally went to church.  I remember a few brief stints in Sunday school.  I remember a couple of summer’s going up the street to a neighbour’s house for a week in the mornings and learning a bible verse, hearing bible stories and doing crafts.  I learned the Lord’s prayer in school and happily recited it until it was banned. I like traditional Christmas Carols.  I believe in Easter and Christmas to celebrate the life of Jesus – not Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I’m still offended that Christmas concerts need to be Winter concerts and that as a music teacher I can’t teach any songs that mention Jesus.  I’m not trying to convert my students; I’m not preaching; I’d be willing to teach hebrew songs etc too.  What’s the big deal?

It was a huge deal to me to be able to attend Easter Sunday services at St. Paul’s cathedral in London when I was in high school.  In grade 11 I set out to read the entire bible.  I made it through 1/2 the old testament.  I made the choice to be confirmed as an adult and began attending regular services when I went to university.  I even became a regular member of the church choir and an assistant Sunday school teacher. I made sure both my children were christened in my church.  I was proud of my faith. But I stopped going.  The church didn’t fit anymore – the sunday school wasn’t working out; the congregation snarky; the politics ugly. I tried a new one.  It was better, but then the only time for swimming lessons conflicted and I got out of the habit of going.

Suddenly as the kids were getting busier, Sunday was the only day left to sleep in.  I NEEDED my rest.  I didn’t NEED church did I?  I can believe and have faith without being IN the church couldn’t I?  My husband didn’t believe in God.  He believed in the Christian morals and values but not the God almighty etc.  He wouldn’t attend with me.  I accepted that, but it made it that much easier to stop going.  I could let him take the kids for a hike and I could sleep and have some time to myself.  THAT was heavenly at the time.

But now I’m confused.  I’m jaded.  Life threw me a curve and I didn’t duck in time. I got hit HARD in the chest. My heart got broken.  I prayed and prayed at the time.  I prayed that God would help heal my husband. I prayed that I wouldn’t be left alone as a widow.  But I was.  It was an impossible reality.  How could I survive this?  WHY did God do this to me?

At that moment I figured, it was a waste of time.  I believed with all my heart that a miracle would come. That God would help me.  And it felt like he didn’t.  I feels like he just dropped the ball.  A big freaking bowling ball, right on ME.

Ok, I’ve been blessed with a fabulous therapist who I would never have met if my spouse didn’t die.  A good thing.  Through a couple of psychic sources I’ve had a couple of messages from him.  One message said that He is in Heaven because of my belief.  He had a place to go. I was right – there is a heaven.  WOW.  Powerful stuff. But I still want my spouse back.

 I find myself now praying more to my husband than I do to God.  I’m still not convinced in God’s love for me. There is the long standing part of me that clings to what I’ve always known. But there is this other part of me – the one that feels like its been burned over and over – that can’t possibly stand the idea anymore.

How can God take my husband from me knowing that I already suffer severe depression and low self esteem?  How can God then allow my daughter to be so mentally unstable and miserable? How can God take such a good man like my husband (here on in known as DH) and leave murderers and low lifes alive? WHY? WHY take DH?  Why was it his time?  WHY was I not able to live my life with him?  Why must my children suffer without their loving and involved dad?  WHY would God allow someone to report us to Social services in the midst of all our sorrow? WHY? Why were we put through that ordeal only to be totally vindicated and cleared of all accusations?  It didn’t strengthen me – it knocked me so far down I could have died.  HOW would THAT have been helpful for my kids?

The phrase “god only gives you what you can handle”  is ridiculous.  I’m unable to work.  I’m unable to enjoy my life.  Is this HANDLING IT?  Certainly NOT in my mind.

I have two close people in my life who have both been affected by cancer.  They both used to believe in God.  Now both of them – not so much.  Again – I don’t think either WANTS to lose faith, but neither feels overly joyous.  Ok – so the cancer is gone in one case and hopefully gone in the other.  But that journey has scarred them.  And scarred their outlook.  And made them question God.

I have another friend who tried to say it wasn’t God who “let bad things happen”.  That its our “freewill” that he’s given us.  But I can’t buy that.  My DH didn’t freewill his brain hemorrhage.  I didn’t freewill my daughter’s mental illness or the SW investigations.  They happened.  Beyond any control I had.  But if God is all powerful HE did have control.  Couldn’t he stop it?  I just don’t know what to think.

I’m excited that DH is in heaven.  I believe in heaven. I believe in ghosts, angels, orbs, spirits or whatever you want to call them.  I believe that there is another dimension co-existing with us.  Is God in charge?  I’m not so sure.

Will I go back to church again?  Probably at some point.  I feel a slight tug in that direction.  However I think my son will never go.  He is adamant that the whole church, creationism etc is crap.  And that devastates me that he feels this way.  Which tells me I guess I still believe and want to believe.  But I really don’t know how to go back to church and TRUST in God, when I feel like I tried that and it didn’t work out.  I don’t even feel like god picked me up and carried me through the hard times.  So even if I could accept that God had to have DH with him, then WHY did everything else feel like it was crumbling too?

My daughter didn’t even remember the Christmas story.  She was Jesus in the pageant! She was a little lamb.  But I stopped going to Church when she was 3 or 4.  And at 7 her Dad was gone.  By 9 she’d forgotten about Jesus.  I feel like I’ve failed her.  Again – I must still care and believe if this matters to me.

I guess its just that God is like a long time family member that I’m really really pissed off at.  I blame him for what’s happened and having a hard time forgiving him.  I don’t want to stay mad, but I just don’t know how to move past it.  Just like when a loved one betrays you; how do you trust him again?  How can you believe that it won’t happen again?  My heart is still broken – I can’t afford to have the broken bits shattered more.  There isn’t enough left.

So as I pray to my husband, I look for guidance and strength.  I seek courage and wisdom.  And I pray that the elastic in my granny panties doesn’t break, so that I can march forward in dignity.

And that’s me.