Speak No Evil

Work, lately, has been - evil. I'm not going to talk of specifics, this isn't the place for that. Just suffice it to say, it's no good. I hope things get better soon.

BUT - thank goodness that, for the most part, I'm able to leave my work woes where they belong - at work. When I walk out that door (albeit increasingly later than I should be), that's it. I'm done. I'll be back in the morning to deal with it all again. Until then, I'm Amy - a mom, a wife, just me.

(a nice glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and some chocolate doesn't hurt to ease the tension either, I might add).

This ability to leave work at work has really, well, worked for both Hubby and I from the very beginning. We met at the office just over 10 years ago. I started on a Tuesday, we went out that Friday, and we've been together ever since.

Others at work have coupled up as well throughout the the years. I know at least two other married couples who work/have worked together there, as well as the occasional dating pair from time to time.

In fact, I distinctly remember this one couple who were just starting to date shortly after Hubby and I met. Hubby and I kept our relationship a secret for a good while, but eventually everyone found out. When they did, the female partner of this other couple tried to commiserate with me about the downfalls of dating a co-worker. She once lamented to me that,

All we ever talk about is work!

I know she was expecting me to identify with her and share my own problems in the same area. But I really couldn't. Hubby and I rarely talk about work! Not now, after being together for a decade, or then, when we were just starting to get to know each other.

There's so many other things to talk about! We both love to read. We both love art. We both love culture. And we're both family oriented (which, of course, has taken on a whole new meaning since having Sweetie. Wow! She alone can provide us with an entire encyclopedia's worth of discussion topics!).

Sure, we do talk about work sometimes. But it's actually great because we're both familiar with the people and issues we're talking about. We understand the lingo of the work we do. We can totally relate to how the other is feeling about a certain someone/something. And we can offer suggestions for how to deal with whatever good or bad issues are going on in each others' work lives.

And then there's the relationship pluses to working together.

I once saw an interview with a husband and wife truck driving team who really loved, and felt benefitted by, working together. They pointed out how most couples, if they have an argument in the morning, will typically go off to work and stew about the fight all day long. Then when they reunite in the evening, those same argumentative feelings are still there, all fired up to pick up from where they left off.

But this trucker couple - if they have a fight, they've got to get over it! They're stuck in a tiny cab all day and all night long. So they've got to talk it out, work it out, and move on.

I feel Hubby and I are able to do exactly that because of our working in the same department. If we get snippy at each other, we don't have to wait 'til the end of the day to talk it out. We can visit each other's cube at any time and fix things. It's wonderful to not have to steep in anger all day long!

Other couples may feel less connected because they can't relate to each others' jobs. I know one of my co-workers was recently telling me how she was trying to talk to her boyfriend about all the system troubles going on in our lives right now at work. But she was saying how he just didn't get it. There's too much job-related jargon he doesn't understand. What my co-worker's job entails (actually, being my back-up) is too detail-oriented for someone not in the business to understand. The whole conversation she was trying to have with him went flat, just because he couldn't understand. She got no relief from talking to him.

So, yes. It's nice that Hubby and I, more or less, get each others' job. We're able to talk about things and feel better afterwards. And, because of all this, we're more efficient at moving on and dealing with what's really important - being parents, being a couple, and being a family.

Mama Monday #62

Theme: Gift

About a week ago I received a gift in the mail - a copy of my friend Shanta Everington's newly published first novel - Marilyn and Me. And let me tell you, it certainly is a gift! Not just this single copy to me, but to the world as well.

Marilyn and Me is the story of Jane Marie Brown, a determined, fiesty and loving young woman who happens to have a mental disability. Jane's idol is Marilyn Monroe - so much so that she bleached her hair, has an extensive Marilyn Monroe collection of knick-knacks, and has unofficially changed her own name to Marilyn.

The story begins with Marilyn in the hospital, recovering from a brutal attack she suffered while waiting at the bus stop on her way to a New Year's Eve party. Throughout the story, we learn just how deeply this personal, physical attack affects not only Marilyn, but also those around her - her family, friends, and care support workers. Everyone, we learn, has their own demons, fears, and obstacles to get past.

I absolutely loved this book! I love what a strong character Marilyn is. She is a wonderful mix of strength, determination, naivete', curiosity, and love. I love how she wants nothing more than to get back to her own apartment and start leading her own life again. How interesting that it's the hang ups and concerns of others that prevent her from doing as she wishes. Even though she's an adult and can do things on her own (as Marilyn keeps reminding everyone), because of her mental challenges, those around her know she needs their help. Or does she?

Shanta has worked in the support field with learning disabled adults for several years. She knows what she's writing about. And her way of portraying Marilyn as just another human being with as many troubles, foibles, charms and issues as anyone else - disabled or not - well, it's just undeniably beautiful and freeing.

As Marilyn herself puts it after talking with her ex-support worker, Natasha, about the life changes Natasha feels she needs to make for herself,

She is Natasha and she is okay. Sometimes, she is happy and sometimes, she is sad and sometimes, she makes mistakes and sometimes, she cries. She is just a woman. Like me.

Thank you, Shanta, for sharing your book with me and with the world. You've shown what capable, loving, real and honest people look like. You've given a face to the disabled community - a beautiful face that, actually, looks very similar to just about anyone else out there.

Yes, Marilyn was a victim of an attack. But Shanta shows us that we are all, in our own little ways, in our own little worlds, similarly victims of "attacks" - self imposed, physical, mental, or otherwise. That is, we all have issues - disabled or not, famous or not, black, white, red, yellow or purple - it just doesn't matter.

But much more importantly, Shanta shows us that we are also, each and every one of us, able to move past our troubles both through our own hard work and with the help of those around us. Friends who care enough to know when to give and when to stand back and let the other person fly free.

Do yourself a favor and give yourself the gift of Marilyn and Me. I highly recommend it. Copies are available for purchase at amazon.com.uk and/or cinnamonpress.com. Go now - and enjoy.

A Day

This morning I hosted book club. There are 6 of us in the group, with a 7th woman who wants to join us but hasn't yet arranged for her schedule to match ours. My mom is one of the members.

Only my mom and one other woman showed up. She happened to bring her mom along. That was it. And I didn't finish the book because I didn't care for it. So our meeting wasn't as lively as it could have been. It would have been nice to hear the opinions of the other members, but for whatever various reasons, they didn't make it. Bummer.

Then the rest of the day was just Sweetie and me. I wanted to finish up a book I was reading on my own before I started in again on our next book club selection. And I did just finish it (stay tuned - I'll tell you all about it in tomorrow's post). But there was Sweetie. Wanting to play with me, doing fairly well enough on her own with her imaginary friends. But still - I felt bad. I played along as best I could to make her happy, while still getting through my book and enjoying my personal time, which made me happy.

Now Hubby's home and Sweetie's "helping" him mow the lawn. Just like she "helped" me vacuum this morning.

Sweetie is so good at playing on her own, making up games, and inventing imaginary situations. I truly believe she's having a good time as she plays. But I do feel bad about not always playing along when she asks. I know how happy she'd be if I took the time to play at her birthday party games.

Is she satisfied with the little bit of attention I give her in the midst of taking time for myself? Will she look back on her young childhood and feel that she was too often left on her own? Or are we interactive enough with her that she'll remember all our games we play together?

It's hard. When Sweetie was a baby I could barely stand to be separated from her. Even when she was crying non-stop. I'd wish for a break from her, leave her with my parents for a bit, then be oh so anxious to get back to her as soon as I could. Now I send her off for the day with Hubby and I'm happy to have time to myself. I have her sleep over at Nana's on the spur of the moment and I'm thrilled to have a quiet evening and to know I can sleep just a bit later in the morning.

I want her to learn to be strong and independent and self aware. I want her to be able to satisfy her needs on her own and not rely on others to entertain her.

I also want her to know I'm here for her when she needs or wants me. I am happy to play with her, read with her, and be an active part of her playtime.

I just need my own time too sometimes. And that's okay. Today is one of those days. Everyone needs one, every once in awhile.

Sweetie Saturday #61 - Inspirational Edition

Hi there! Sorry to say I don't have too much to report by way of Sweetisms this week. But have no fear! Instead, I bring you inspirational videos! Like this one of little Ana. She's a little girl with spina bifida learning to use her new walker and, with the encouragement of her brother, to pull herself up to standing.



I don't honestly remember it, but I've heard the stories time and again of how determined I was to learn to walk. I'm told I would walk from parent to parent, fall down on my way, crawl to my destination, then stand up and try again. Repeat, oh, 100 times or so. I was so intent on getting this walking thing down that my knees were always raw from all my falls and crawls.

For more inspirational videos of disabled kids overcoming some obstacles, check out these videos.

There's The Rub

Knock on wood, Sweetie's enjoying a good run of successful school drop-offs. For a long while now she's been happy to go to school and has had great days there.

However, instead of tears and fights about not wanting to go to school, now she insists on very particular goodbye rituals before I leave her.

This pretty much consists of exchanging a hug, kiss and a nose. But then she'll add in a forehead. Or she'll stop me on my way out and tell me, we forgot to do cheeks!

Whatever. It's getting to the point where I wonder what the heck else she can stop and ask me to do. But it's not crying and screaming, so I'll take it.

Last Thursday was no different. We exchanged our hug, kiss, nose and forehead. I asked if there was anything else. Nope - I was free to go.

BUT - as I walked out her classroom door, the school's director stopped to talk to me. At the same time, Sweetie ran out of her classroom (a big no-no) to tell me I had, in fact, forgotten something.

Mom! You forgot to rub me!

Huh? What she say? No time to think about it. The director was trying to ask me something. As she did, I just held Sweetie close to me until I could finally give her my full attention.

When I could, I walked Sweetie back into her room.

Now what do I need to do? I asked.

Nothing. You did it already!

And that was that.

Thinking about it after, I realized that I must always rub Sweetie's back whenever I give her her goodbye hug. I guess I didn't do it that day, though, but I made up for it as she was standing with me while I talked to her director.

Huh.

Then this past weekend, in the middle of the night, Sweetie came rushing into our room in tears. She woke me from a dead sleep, but I tried to calm her and ask her what the trouble was as I fought for consciousness. Nothing helped. She wouldn't talk and her cries only escalated.

Finally she laid down on top of me as the tears kept coming. I sleepily rubbed her back and said nothing. Within seconds, she was quiet. Finally, she was able to tell us what the trouble was (a bad dream), calm down, and be walked back to her own bed.

And when Sweetie was a tiny infant, screaming after a stimulating day or crying out in baby frustration, one of the only things that would consistently quiet her down was me rocking her in my arms as I sat singing a familiar tune to her. All done while I rubbed her tiny back. Seemed to work darn near every time.

Not sure where exactly I'm going with this post. Just, I guess, that I'm both surprised and pleased to know what a calming, comforting affect the human touch of a gentle back rub can have on someone.

From the get-go it has worked for Sweetie. When her little life gets to be just a bit too much for her, how honored I feel to be able to deliver that much needed touch.

Mama Monday #61

Theme: Focus

If there's one thing that's always on my mind, it's money. Specifically, do we have enough of it to get through the week? The month? The long haul? How will we ever pay off our debts? How can we earn more money? When will we ever have enough?

Really. It seems like I'm always calculating figures wherever we go.

Okay, we spent $20 less on groceries than I thought we would this week - that means we can spend up to $20 on a special trip to our favorite coffee shop.

Oops - gas prices are rising. More money on gas means I'll have to wait a week before I can pick up a new book of stamps.

Yay. We're doing okay - let's go out to eat! And to see that movie! A trip to the ice cream stand, anyone?!

Problem is, the decent times when we have just a bit of surplus funds, always seem to get me in more trouble than the lean times. We get cocky. We make more financial allowances. We have more fun with our money.

Then, when I finally get around to checking the books again, I see that, inevitably, we've gone too far. We've purchased one (or a few) too many treats. But now the mortgage is due. And the electric bill. Uh oh.

At least when things are tight, when money is always on my mind, when my internal calculator keeps plugging in the numbers with every purchase - at least then I'm not surprised by the sorry state of our affairs. I'm perfectly aware of how pitiful things are. It's not good, but it's the truth and I'm all too certain of how tight the purse strings are.

I just hate when the shock of dwindling dollars hits me out of the blue.

What?! We just had a bonus! We were just doing so well! What happened?! Where'd it all go?!

Then I start kicking myself for allowing us to go out to eat, to get something for the house, to buy new clothes.

We totally could have lived without that thing! We did not need to spend so much there! We have so many more important bills to pay and debt to decrease! What were we thinking?! How are we even going to make it to the next pay check?!

But wait.... Stop.... Breathe, Amy... Breathe....Just take the time to focus....

We're doing okay. In fact, we're actually having a pretty good year - we even have a surplus in savings! Yes, things may get tight from time to time. But they will get better - they always do. Be thankful that we have a savings to fall back on when we need to. That's why it's there.

We have friends who have less stable jobs than we do. Who have bigger bills than we do. Who choose to spend their money in different ways than we do. But they're doing okay - and so are we. Things are not now, nor have they ever been, as Doom and Gloom as my frantic, self-deprecating mind often tells me they are. This too shall pass.

We all just need a little focus in our lives. I don't agree with the popular notion that says the one with the most toys at the end wins. Even though it's hard to think past it now, I know forty years from now, I'm not going to be looking back on life, remembering the day in and day out dramas of trying to live within our means - yet failing miserably.

No. I'm going to look back and marvel at the awesome life that Sweetie has made for herself. And the small, but critical, roll Hubby and I had in helping her form that life. I'm going to look across at my Hubby as we rock together on the porch and thank God for the beautiful, fun, adventurous, comfy (if not always comfortable) life we've shared together.

Focus. Focus on security. Not on material security - there's no such thing.

Focus on the security of your family, friends, and the love that surrounds you. Make a goal of keeping that focus concentrated and strong.

Determined focus on the right things - that's what makes a life rich beyond you're wildest dreams.

Forgive Me

I'm wiped. Long weekend. This is all you're gettin'.

By the by... Sweetie thinks this is funny, even though she's never heard any of it, save for the title - Spicy Pony Head.

Click here... and enjoy.

Sweetie Saturday #60

Last weekend I happened to mention to Sweetie, in passing, that when she's 6 years old (closer to 7), that we could go to Disney World.

Okay, whatever.

A couple days later, we're at a coffee shop where a nice, older woman comes over to talk to Sweetie.

How old are you? she asked.

I'm 4. And...um...when I'm 6, I'm going to Disney World!

Oh boy.

Hubby reminded me to not tell her anything unless I really mean in. In this case, I do mean it. I just hope my plans to save up for it pan out okay.

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In the more foreseeable future, we three are planning a trip to Hershey, PA later this summer. We're going to meet up with my friend/pen pal, Courtney, and her young daughter. Should be a great time!

So, in preparation for the trip, I asked Sweetie if she wanted to go to a place that smells like chocolate all the time. Hmmm... no big response. Maybe she didn't quite understand. Oh well.

A couple hours later, as it was getting close to Sweetie's bedtime, she finally pipes up with,

Yes, I do want to go to that place, Mom.

Huh? What place?

That place you said! That smells like chocolate all the time. I want to go right now!

Okay, okay... just cool your jets, lady. We'll get there soon enough.

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I happened to notice this week that there's a pair of twins in Sweetie's class - a boy and a girl. So the other night I asked Sweetie about them, asking what their names are.

She told me the girl is Mackenzie. Okay, I did already know that. But what's the boy's name?

You have to guess., she tells me.

I had no clue what this boys name was. I know the names of some of the boys in her class, but not this one.

I may have guessed upwards of 10 names, finally deciding to take a cue from Mackenzie's name and match something up accordingly.

Let's see.... Mackenzie and Michael?

No.

Mackenzie and Matt?

Nooo.

Mackenzie and Marvin? (there really is a boy in her class named Marvin, but I knew it wasn't him).

Nooooooo! Guess again!

With each guess, Sweetie was getting more and more excited about our little game. Would I ever come up with the right one?

My next guess...

Mackenzie and.... Zachary?

YES! That's it! You got it! You got it right, Mom!

Sweetie was absolutely beside herself with joy and excitement that I actually guessed the right name. So, so cute!

Phew - I'm glad I finally guessed it. That could have gone on for days!

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Sweetie and I went to registered our car on Thursday (May 31st at 6:30pm - nothing like the last minute, huh?).

The town workers greeted us, especially taking notice of Sweetie.

And how are you today?

Great! (Sweetie's usual answer).

Good! That's great!

My Daddy loves me when I'm great.

He sure does, Sweetie. And so do I. You have a great outlook on life - good for you!