I can do anything good

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qR3rK0kZFkg&feature=player_embedded#!

Click on the link. Watch. Then read:

A friend posted this link on her facebook page. Cute? Incredibly. Really great to see a happy child who firmly believes everything in her little world is fantastic. She'll catch on soon enough, right? School bullies will beat her down. Teachers will be mean and unfair. Even her best friends will disappoint her, and many of the relationships in her life turn out to be a lot less than she'd hoped. Ah, children and their fantasy worlds. Catch a clue, little girl. You're really not so hot, and things in your life are probably already beginning to crumble.

I don't believe most of what I just wrote — but I used to. Knowing what I know now, I think it's the very best thing a girl her age could be doing. Why is it that, from an early age and on into our adult lives, we take all of the bad things everyone has ever said about us, and make them our realities? We get so good at it, the negativity doesn't even have to be directed toward us. "This just falls in line with everything else everybody's said about me, so it must be true," we think. We go from one bad relationship to another, and the similarities are uncanny. Our therapists help us realize it all traces back to our  our relationships with our parents/families starting from our very early years. If that's true — and I firmly believe it is — then little Jessica's got an incredible head start. She's learning to love herself. EXACTLY the way she is!

One of my favorite books is Louise Hay's You Can Heal Your Life. A friend recommended it to me when I was at about the lowest point in my life. There's so much wisdom in that book, but the resounding theme is that everything in our lives, good or bad, revolves around how we think about ourSELVES. And if there are any negative thoughts in there, they will play out in ALL of the decisions we make in our lives. Whatever it is: "I'm overweight," "I don't handle money well," "I'm not smart enough" — they all stop us from achieving our goals, expressing ourselves creatively, and living out our deepest dreams and desires. They'll also play out physically and are likely to become the primary sources of our ailments and illnesses. Hey, with all that bad karma going on inside us, something's gotta give.

But, she proclaims, we have the power to change our thoughts, and literally turn the negatives into positives. And it begins with something she calls "daily affirmations" — exactly what little Jessica was doing in front of the mirror. For example, the belief: "I hate my job" will get you nowhere. But "I now accept a wonderful new job," opens the channels for you to actually create that. In the video, one of Jessica's affirmations is "I like my sister." She says this at the very moment a baby — likely the little sister she's talking about — is wailing in the background! Take that! One of the exercises Louise Hay has you do is look into the mirror and say, "I approve of myself." Over and over again. For days, weeks, months, years. Until it becomes your belief. Try it. It's super hard to do! But extremely effective if you hang in there. (I've been at it five years and have made significant progress, though I'm certainly not "there" yet — by a longshot!)

I believe that what you know about yourself from a young age IS your reality. At my home preschool, I could tell from the minute a child walked into the door on the first day if he was given positive affirmation at home — and it was confirmed as I came to know the child and his parents. Very simple: The parents most involved in their kids' lives generally had the happier children. (Not to be confused with spoiling — it takes a much more involved parent to discipline a child than to let him run around with no boundaries at all.) I don't know if Jessica's just a really wise little girl, or if her parents have made it part of her routine to practice these affirmations, but how much better would we be — dare I day the world would be — if it was a requirement for every child to look in the mirror and give himself positive affirmations every day? (At the very least it would significantly lower the crime rate!) And why aren't all of the parenting books recommending we do this with our children?

I wasn't educated on the whole "positive affirmation" thing when my kids were little — or I certainly would've made it prominent on their list of childhood routines. But I have tried to instill in them the belief that they are completely loved and accepted — exactly as they are. On Mothers Day I asked my kids what they thought I rated highest at in my job as a mom. Melissa's response: "You make great lunches!" She's right … I really do! Cliffie's surprised me though: "You support me and believe in me — whatever I choose to do." Or something like that. Best Moms Day gift ever. I must be doing something right. And I make a hellofa tuna salad sandwich!

Manic Monday

Only yesterday I made a big deal about counting blessings — even posted a sugary sweet blog about it. But tonight my many failures, or should I say, disappointments, are taking center stage. It usually starts with a small disaster. Like doing the dishes when a half-drunk glass of milk flies out of my hand and on to the edge of the sink, drenching my Kitchen Aid mixer, blender, and pretty much the entire right side of the countertop. I'd reached my limit. The tears came. And I counted:

1. That damn speeding ticket needs to be taken care of.
2. I really thought I had more money in the bank.
3. Work is completely uninspiring lately. And they don't pay me close to what I'm worth.
4. Cliffie's making an issue out of not wanting to go to the awards ceremony tomorrow. I keep telling him it's disrespectful not to go, but he "doesn't see the point." The point is it's disrespectful not to go.
5. I spent much of the weekend housecleaning and it took less than a full day for it to become a cluttered mess once again.
6. I miss my brother.
7. I don't get this thermostat. It's either too cold or too hot in this house.
8. My energy level is zero and I have three b-day/graduation presents to wrap, package, and mail.
9. Melissa's leaving for San Francisco w/the eighth grade class tomorrow. I'll really miss her. I should have chaperoned.
10. Villianous bugs are munching at the sunflower seedlings I just planted. And some of the veggies I planted aren't coming up at all.
11.  A particular teacher threatened Melissa w/not going to San Francisco even though she is getting much higher than a passing grade in the class.
12. How will I ever manage to put these two deserving children through college?
13. I told my sister I'd call. She is in the beginning stages of going through a divorce from hell. Are the women in my family completely cursed when it comes to choosing men?
14. Two recently purchased pairs of pants shrunk in the length after I washed them. Why didn't I buy "tall"? They also shrunk in other areas, incidentally.
15. I may never see Paris.
16. Broke my sunglasses. Again.

I'll stop there. Crying over spilt milk? How cliché! Believe it or not, these are the kinds of things that used to send me spiraling into deep depression. But through the years I've learned to see them as merely annoying realities. Let's face it, I've been through much worse. I'll feel better in the morning when once again all will be well in my world. Well, almost. I'll be squinting in the sunlight sans sunglasses. Then again, aren't they forecasting rain?

Waldweg

Sure, there could be impending disaster just around the corner. But I awoke today keenly aware that — at least on this particular Sunday morning — all is very well in my little corner of the world. Then I took a little hike. Glimpses of beauty and perfection are all around me — I can scarcely take it in!

Why is your bed in the kitchen?

Came home tonight after a demanding workday to find my son studying with a friend in the family room. Which is also my bedroom. Shoot. So much for my detox half hour featuring/glass of white wine and poor but entertaining TV programming. I go upstairs and temporarily inhabit his room while they're downstairs. Just about fell asleep on the bed when he came up at around 6:30. "We're done," he says. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

So we live in a two bedroom house and there are three of us — not so bad, is it? When I chose this place, I decided that, considering my post-divorce financial situation, I'd rather have a really nice two-bedroom than a crappy three-bedroom. Somehow, I'd make a comfortable bedroom area in the downstairs space I now (lovingly?) call my studio apartment. My friend's four-year-old daughter came for a visit and asked, "Why is your bed in the kitchen?" God, I love four-year-olds! It was a really good question — one that tens of visitors to my home have probably wanted to ask themselves. I guess the best answer is that I'm continuing to make sacrifices for my two favorite people on the planet. Hope they'll appreciate it someday. I think they already do — but not fully. They won't until they have offspring of their own — and are denied the basic comforts they now take for granted. I mean, let's face it — babies are little Hitlers, really. You're at their beck and call 24/7, and if you slip up, the wrath of a Nazi baby could very well be upon you. Yeah, you're pissed off. But it's your job, and you don't take it lightly. At least I don't. My babies are now teenagers, and my new challenges are no less demanding. Don't know what it is inside me that's made these human beings my No. 1 priority, but they are — often at my expense. Best decision I ever made.

But my bed's not supposed to be in the kitchen. I'm 46 and a graduate of USC, for godsakes. I grew up in an upscale area and followed my mom's advice to the T: Go to college, get your degree, get married, wait a few years, then start a family. Unfortunately she left out the part about finding a GOOD man. She also neglected to mention not to give up your goals or ambitions to follow a man you think you're in love with. Oh well. Not bitter. Great kids. And this amazing two-bedroom house happens to be smack dab in the middle of the loveliest spot on earth. I'm convinced it's God's vacation destination. Which is why all of the roads, twists, and turns have led us to this spot, this house, this situation. He's so obviously right here with us. And if I want a snack in the middle of the night, it's just a few short steps to the pantry. How cool is that?

The gap between washer and dryer

This area is one of the many black holes in my house. It contains a knee-high stocking, a black sock, a rolled-up pair of sport socks, a dime, a plastic fixture I can't identify, 2 used dryer sheets, a gold candy wrapper, a sample-size spray bottle of fabric freshener (left by previous tenant), lots of lint. Really hard to get into that narrow space to clean it. So every time I do the wash I avert my gaze and pretend the black hole doesn't exist. Something else may drop down, but I don't care... will deal with it later. A part of me truly believes that once the black hole is clutter free and spotless, my life will be too.

A worse dark hole is the space between Cliffie's bed and the wall. Scary. I once found an uneaten ham sandwich I'd packed in his lunch a few months earlier there.

Update: Since I wrote this over a year ago, my dryer died and was replaced. Ideal opportunity to sweep away all of the above mentioned — including the previous tenant's fabric freshener. A year later, my life's far from clutter free and spotless — there are more than a few untold messes in other areas of the house — and my life. But in the midst of it all, an unbelievable amount of clarity and sense of purpose has emerged. The other day I discovered a collection of empty water bottles between Cliffie's bed and wall. Better than an old ham sandwich. Things are improving...

Elvis, Wow!

Have  been dying to tell somebody about the awesome concert I saw last night. Then I remembered, "oh yeah, I have a blog!" Cool. I've been an Elvis Costello fan since high school. Last night, in front of a sold out crowd crowd at the Cal Poly SLO Performing Arts Center, he didn't disappoint! A delight to hear his creative spin on some of his older 80s hits like "Allison" and "Veronica." Old songs from the 20s, bluegrass, and ballads were also sprinkled in, demonstrating to us all just how versatile and musical Elvis really is! I loved his electric guitar/special effects take on "Watching the Detectives," (Cliffie's fave!) and the merging of his original songs with beloved classics, i.e. "New Amsterdam" with the Beatles' "You've Got to Hide your Love Away," and his first hit, "Radio Sweetheart" with Van Morrison's "In Heaven When You Smile." How could you not sing along? At one point he claimed his mic wasn't working and he made his way to the foot of the stage where he sat down w/guitar and belted out an old 30s ballad to which he played some killer finger picking style guitar — no amplification needed! My fave songs of the night were a very heartfelt "Other End of the Telescope" (such a powerful ballad) and the closer, "Man Out of Time," a fine acoustic version of the intense rock ballad. His voice soared, and every stunning word was heard and taken in. He was really funny, too. Not joke after joke, but wonderful, nonverbal stuff, like holding up one of the nine guitars on stage during the encore as if asking the audience, "want another one?" The best one-man show I've ever seen.


God wanted us to see this concert. A friend was talking about the upcoming show the day before the tix went on sale, and, although they were pricey, I bit the bullet and bought two — put them on credit, which I had no business doing. Good seats too. Well, if you've been following me on Facebook (and why wouldn't you?), you'll know that I just won a substantial amount of cash at the local high school fundraiser. Credit card bill paid off, thank you, and Cliffie and I enjoyed one of the best concerts of our lives.


Every now and then, after a super hard work day, an unexpected challenge involving one of the kids, or having dodged another financial crisis, I say to myself, "Life is just hard. When will I ever get rewarded for all of this?" Well, last night I received a big one. Just seeing the sheer delight on my son's face after being exposed to some of the finest music I've ever heard would have been enough. And I see many more rewards all around me — all I have to do is look. However, the messy kitchen isn't one of them. Better get to it. A clean kitchen and orderly house is more than enough to make me feel like I've accomplished something today.


Still singing Elvis tunes from the concert. Wow.

ACT Test Day

Add me to the list of moms already mourning the loss of our college bound sons. Took Cliffie to Arroyo Grande High School to take the ACT test this a.m. Just the fact that he’s interested in taking the test, wants to do well, and sees himself a college graduate it is enough to make any mom proud. But with Cliffie there’s so much more beyond the surface — always has been.

Seems like only yesterday our kids were very little and we were lounging at the San Simeon Cove — moms gossiping in our lounge chairs and toddlers frolicking in the shallow white water. As most moms know, children at the beach are physically unable to make the short distance from the water to the line of towels where mom’s sitting without being totally covered in wet sand. And they’re always hungry when they emerge — sand covered snacks are but one of the many challenges moms face at the beach! (Ever tried to change a diaper there?) Had to watch Melissa the water magnet carefully — but I also had the added responsibility of having to look behind me, as Cliffie preferred exploring the rocks on the other end of the beach. The other kids proudly retrieved shells and sand crabs — he’d bring me fossils and lizards! My son’s easygoing and quiet, and always attracted friends with voices only a little louder than their huge personalities. Such an entertaining bunch! I walked the stretch of that beach yesterday, and felt a pang of despair at the sight of a pack of seven-year-old boys covering each other with sand. Whatever happened to that large collection beach treasures we kept in a jar on our front porch? All but gone are those wonderful days.

When Cliffie was two I was working in an office full time while he was in daycare. Yeah, that scenario broke my heart too. But on Fridays we’d leave a little early and have breakfast at the McDonalds by our house. Every time he saw the golden arches he’d yell “Donalds!” One of his first words. Dang he was cute! I must be nostalgic today because I shared that with him on the drive to the test site — we both agreed he was a pretty adorable toddler!

I think I’ve done pretty much all I can with this boy, raising-wise. And I’m quite happy with the result. Oh, I’ll pass along reinforcements now and then, but he knows exactly who he is, and makes no excuses to anyone. Lucky for me, “who he is” has turned out to be well-mannered, independent, sharp-witted, driven, kind and accepting, non-conforming, easily annoyed (hey, I didn’t say he was perfect!), brilliant, deep thinking, and creative. Did I say brilliant? And creative? There was a period between, oh about fourth and ninth grade, when I thought I just might have lost him — just didn’t interact with me that much. He once ran away and left a note saying he was no good to anyone so he may as well just leave. Cliffie’s been through a lot, and as I pointed out earlier, he is a deep thinker. But he’s come back in droves, and now, at the dinner table, he chooses to linger and talk. His perspective’s so insightful he could be featured on Bill Moyer’s Journal. I hang on his every word.

He’ll do well on the test. On the drive to the test site, the offramp was blocked so we had to turn off at the next one, then find our way back to the general location of the school. We took many wrong turns — poor kid got his inferior navigation skills from his mom! But we made it. And in a sea of high school juniors and seniors lingering outside on a foggy Saturday morning, my son — wearing a yellow computer t-shirt and carrying a brown bag containing peanuts and a banana — was a standout. He will go on to do great things. And bring me his future versions of fossils and lizards.