The Story of My Life April 14, 2009

When the story of my life is told, “frequently overwhelmed” is not really a phrase I want remembered.  Nevertheless, it seems to be a state in which I often find myself.

 

There was once a time when I was far busier, my day filled with activities at school, with the children, and at home.  From the time I woke up until the time I went to bed, I was doing – things for others, things for the kids, things for our church or community.

 

For years, I was the person who arrived at work early with treats for my co-workers, was always prepared for class with full lesson plans, and still worked  hours at home serving my family with clean laundry and wholesome meals.  My kitchen stayed clean, the bathrooms immaculate, and I even had time to connect with friends through the computer.  Bills were paid on time, the kid’s activity fees were covered, and we always had groceries in the house that reflected my carefully planned menus.  We went places and did fun things together.

 

Of late, it feels everything in my life now is behind the eight ball.  My house is a disaster all the time, clutter is everywhere, and I feel like a family of sardines live in this house that barely fits us and costs way too much for what we’re getting.  We have a stack of bills and daily reminder phone calls to juggle.  My daily routine starts before day break and many days I spend hours in the seat of the family vehicle playing Taxi Driver to those who cannot drive for themselves.

 

Now I feel like I get nothing accomplished from day to day.  I wake up tired and I go to bed tired while I lay there wondering where the day went and if I’ll be able to look up at any point in my life and be able to offer a list of accomplishments that extend beyond my manic Mondays, frantic Fridays, or wacky weekends.

 

I spend many days battling my urge to dream of a life more independent; where I am in control of the risks affecting me, and where I can make wise and informed choices before its too late.  I wonder what happened to my energy and my motivation.  I wonder what happened to me.  Few days go by without tears, and most days end with them.  My favorite activity now is lying quietly snuggled against Temptress, hoping sleep will deliver me to a place of peace and serenity before being pulled into another dutiful arena.

 

We have a new business that we are trying to get up and running.  We are coming to the end of our lease term and should be moving – again – to find something more permanent and stable for our family.  We are nearing the summer months, where the fundamental nature of my existence for nearly three months is spent in an endless pattern between the stove, refrigerator, and sink playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to nine children who waiver between boredom and summer hyperactivity. (Would this be a good time to interject my thoughts on year round schooling again?   Nah, I’ll let this one pass…)

 

There was a time in my life when I would have been advised (and would have probably followed through) to “let go and let God.”  But years later a frustrated me still found discontentment in the journey and realized the problem with laying one’s woes (or the responsibility thereof) at the feet of another.

 

It would be nice to wake up one morning to find we’d won the lottery, to stumble upon some valuable thing in the attic, or to receive an unexpected IRS rebate in the mailbox.  What I want is for fate to give us a break, for someone to believe in us, to have someone to step in as a benevolent benefactor and give us a step up; just one tiny nudge in the right direction.  Those who say money can’t buy happiness are not giving enough credence to the fact that lack of money can certainly create deficit of contented choices.

 

What I think I need to do is to get a grip on reality; to take charge and make some decisions that pull me out of whatever funk I’m wearing and get me back into performance mode.  Or maybe, that is the cloak I’m desperately trying to take off.  I wonder if what I think I should be doing is just ingrained obligation bubbling to the top of an otherwise restructured life.

 

Maybe it is accurate that those who do not truly experience a childhood and adolescence are doomed to seek it later in life; to long for days of freedom and frivolity that were not a part of the growing up years.  The parentified child in me grows uncomfortable with the shackles of the adult life I pursued for so long.  I think I falsely believed that when I chose maturity for myself, I would hold the control for my own life and the power others held against me would suddenly be null.

 

But what I have found is how much life becomes increasingly more restrictive as we age.  The older I get, the fewer amenable choices remain.  The less I can think of myself and the more I am forced into decisions that echo the wishes of others.  I begin to sink back into the hollows of the endless mind and wonder who the actual author of my life story will become as the pages continue to turn. 

 

~ the laundry goddess, April 14, 2009

Welcome Home March 27, 2009

After 16 months of a long and arduous separation, it is with a happy heart that I can tell you that Fix will be spending this weekend moving his belongings back into the family home.

These many months have been a time of discovery. They have been filled with tears, heartache, loneliness, anger and sadness. But they have also been filled with love and hope. Both of which have seen us thru until we could once again bring our family back together again.  I think we all learned a few lessons, and found out we are culpable in any situation, there is never one person at fault, nor one person whom you can heap the blame onto.

Fix and I created patterns and made choices early on in our marriage, that looking back I can see were not the best for us in the long run. We became comfortable and complacent in our roles even if they were not the ones that we were happiest with or that fulfilled us. Mistakes were made along the way that over the years just became status quo.  In trying to change  some of those we rocked the boat and created a tidal wave of issues that almost drowned us. I think now we both understand that  the people we became were not the people that we truly were. Both of us put away things that were important in order to create our peaceful lives. Yes marriage is about compromise, but it’s not about losing yourself.

Fix and I both understand now that after 18 years we are different people than were in 1990 and we are getting to know our new life mate. I like the person I have become and I like who I see in him. We are in a good place now and it brings me peace, I hope he is feeling the same.

We all made mistakes in the formation of this quad, we have all paid a price and I like to think that we have all in some small way gained something. Our “quad” no longer looks like it did 3 years ago, the appearance has changed along with the relationships. I think however that no matter how the quad looks or how each relationship has evolved we are all still committed to our families, our loves and our children.

This polyamorous life we have chosen is not easy, but then again nothing in this life worth having is rarely easy to gain. For all of the tears and heartache, the love gained and the family created is so very worth it.

Welcome home my love.

Welcome home.

~ Temptress

Happy President's Day February 16, 2009

The four year old has been relentlessly reminding us that today was President’s Day.  She knows this because it is the day after breakfast dinner and the kids are not at school.  (It is typical preschool logic.  Breakfast dinner = Sunday; the next day = school.)  Thusly, if the kids are home on a school day, something big is up.  The something big is actually report cards (teacher workday) but the county uses President’s Day as the excuse to let the kids stay home.

 

About the 90^th time she came to inform us, “Today is President’s Day!!!” Temptress snapped back, “I know…  and they’re all dead.”

 

To which our precious lobbyist retorted, “Barack Obama isn’t dead!” 

 

So, does that say something about our home and the attention this election received?  Our four year old thinks she is on a first name basis with the president. 

 

Maybe it is just a powerful representation of the hope we all have for our nation.  Maybe some of that hope will rub off on other aspects of our life that could use some new hope.  Time for Change…  it’s a powerful idea.

Faith of the Heart November 30, 2008

As is our holiday tradition, we began putting up our Christmas/Yule décor on Saturday.  The boxes come out of storage, the trees are purchased, and the entire atmosphere in the house changes.  For those who say “Christmas is for children,” haven’t celebrated in our family, because everyone seems to get caught up in the giddiness of the holidays.

 

Along with the merriment is the onslaught of “I want…” comments fueled by overactive advertisers and the fantasy of the man in red delivering presents.  We talk about Santa, but prefer to call him Father Christmas or speak of that character in the spirit of giving.  Our children are very accustomed to believing in mythical and symbolic creatures because Temptress and I encourage them to do so.

 

In addition to Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, our family also recognizes many other creatures as well.  We sometimes have visits from the House Fairy (for especially clean rooms) – http://housefairy.org – and at times we leave offerings to the Sprites and Brownies in our home, asking for their assistance in locating missing items.  At other times we are prone to ask for our thoughts back, speaking into mid air.  We happily observe photo orbs, amusingly asking which of our ancestors may be with us in spirit in that moment.  And when we moved in, we enlisted the help of mighty guardians (some might call them angels) with the protection of our dwelling.

 

We have raised our children to believe in the things unseen.  The most profound of these beliefs is the choice to acknowledge The Creator, to have daily relationship with our Deity.  And yes, it is a choice.  Faith is the matter of knowing something is real even when you cannot see it or touch it tangibly.

 

We also subscribe to belief in Karma, that what you send into the Universe will revisit you times three.  So call it “reaping what you sow,” but what you are inside, what you believe in travels with you; it speaks of your character, and it makes your heaven or hell right here in this world.

 

Growing up I was taught about the darker characters and the consequences they face.  “The trouble with liars is that they cannot believe in anyone else.”  “The problem with cheating is that you trust nothing is safe.”  “Ugliness comes back on you, so do right, be light.”

 

On Thanksgiving Day our family played a round of Apples to Apples, one of our favorite group games.  The purpose of the game is assigning a noun (person, place, or thing) with a descriptive term (liberty, wealth, freedom, glamour, etc.)  For instance, if the term is “weird” then each person puts in their choice of options from their hand of cards.  In a game of eight players, there might be cards naming “Modern Art,” “Ozzy Osburn,” “My Family,” “Cooking Shows”, or maybe even “chores.”  So who decides what is weird or not?  Each of us do, in turn.  The game is hugely representative of the associations we make in life.

 

There are a lot of ideologies in this world that are not concrete; they are not hard and fast examples.  Who is kind?  Is it the altruistic millionaire?  Or the elderly on fixed income that donates her time to charity?  Do we have to choose?  Or can it be both?  What is freedom?  Is it having the right to burn that very symbol of freedom in protest?  Or is it having the right to marry whom you love, regardless of their gender identity?  Who is a genius?  Einstein, Shakespeare, DaVinci, Bill Gates?  What about the mechanic that figures out that odd buzzing in your HVAC unit?  What about the teacher that touches the creative soul inside a neglected child?  And what is hope?  Is it the one who wishes for financial freedom by playing the lottery?  Or is it the parent who prays over a sick child?  However you define these unspecified notions, it is all based on how one connects with the unseen.

 

There is a great line from The Santa Clause, when young Charlie asks his step father, “Have you ever seen a million dollars? Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean is doesn’t exist.”  And that truth is evident in many areas of adult life.  Everything of worth in our existence hinges on faith; that the sun will rise, that the seasons will change, that we will live through our car ride to work, that our daily purpose is part of a larger picture.

 

I feel sorry for those “show me” types; to whom everything must be proven.  Our life here is uncertain and we have no guarantees.  H2O can be proven, 1+1+1=3 can be proven, even Newton’s Law can be proven.  But how can love be proven?  How can support and encouragement be proven?  They can’t; those qualities can only be recognized by the heart.  And in many cases, you have to want to see them when they aren’t glaringly apparent.

 

I remember well a lesson I learned many years ago, “Just because somebody doesn’t love you the way you want to be loved, doesn’t mean they aren’t loving you with everything they have.”  We don’t have any control over how someone else shows us love, all we can do it decide how we will respond.  Sometimes the evidence takes a long time to manifest. Repaying insults with blessings can transform a hardened heart. 

 

Pollyanna had the right idea.  Rainbows and sunshine and random acts of kindness can make a difference.  The world is a better place when we believe in dragons and unicorns.  Our lives are a bit more magical when we expect goodness from all creatures.  And just in case, carry a bit of pixie dust in your pocket.

 

~the laundry goddess, November 30, 2008

Decisive Destruction November 18, 2008

It happened in an instant.  I was searching something for the restricted teen, I clicked, copied, and before I could finish printing said material it hit, and it hit HARD.  Within mere seconds my computer shut down and when it restarted itself, I could hardly recognize the jarbled mess it had become.

 

None of my settings were right, I couldn’t read any images, the java scripting was disabled, and there was this hacked version of a Windows “alert” flashing at me, warning me to protect myself.  We discovered very quickly this virus pretends to be a tool, offering spy ware protection that loads even more nastiness if you even try to click the red x in the corner.  Titled the Rogue Antivirus 2009, there is plenty of hidden pieces, and to the dismay of many of the real virus protection software, it does not hide in the same place every time.  It jumps from folder to folder, repopulating itself with every reboot.

 

It took about 3 hours to find it, dissect it from its hiding places, and get the computer virus free, but the changes it had made to my system in the meantime were a whole different story.  At first it was little things I noticed, stuff not acting right, things I should have been able to see or click on weren’t working properly.  Within 24 hours I was certain of the fate of my machine… it was going to take a destructive recovery to reclaim my system.

 

Even after such a drastic step, there were issues in restoring.  The rebuilding took nearly a whole day.  Temptress sat determined; systematically reinstalling all the necessary programs, files, and documents to bring my machine back to its previous workable condition.

 

Who spends their obvious gray matter sitting around thinking these things up?  What kind of inhumane monster gets his jollies at the expense of others, creating something that annihilates everything it touches?

 

The whole process got me to thinking about maliciousness.  Merriam-Webster online defines malicious as, “given to, marked by, or arising from malice.”  (ya, it couldn’t be a one step thing, could it?)  The subsequent definition for malice is, “desire to cause pain, injury, or distress to another; or the intent to commit an unlawful act or cause harm without legal justification or excuse.”  The fact that we even have a word for such an act or attitude in our language doesn’t say much about us as a people.

 

I remember when Big and I were going through our Foster Parenting orientation.  There was a lot of paperwork to fill out, interviews, bios, and home studies to be completed.  One question stuck with me.  “What conduct or attribute will you not tolerate in your home?”  There was, of course, a long list of possible bad behaviors that followed, I guess to get me thinking, but I eventually answered… destructiveness.

 

It is said people fear what they do not understand.  I don’t’ understand destructiveness for malicious reasons.  Many behaviors I can rationalize away.  Even though I don’t agree or believe the same way, I understand why someone else might.  This is something I just don’t get.  I realize this is purely a rhetorical question, but Why, WHY, would anyone want to be that mean; causing harm or destruction ON PURPOSE just to stick it to the other guy.

 

These computer viruses are just one example of those types of behaviors.  There are plenty of other examples.  Take vandalism, like which unlike looting seems to have no motive other than being an expression of the ugliness within.  And what about the Anthrax scare?  Bullying might fall into that category if I didn’t truly believe that action was a caustic mix of helplessness and power play.  Arson, hoaxes, and even some types of practical jokes can also signal that need to damage something or someone for mere sport, or perhaps no reason at all.  In my opinion, it’s nothing short of personal terrorism.

 

Certainly psychologists can point to a million scenarios that might explain a person’s motive here, but really, how can one be so miserable the only joy comes from tearing down of another?  Please show me when it actually works to build up oneself at the expense of another?  How does limiting someone else equal net gain?  Where did those cycles of ill will originate and how many random acts of kindness will it take to overturn the negative effects?  When does the logic kick in that only in the lifting of others, can we gain enlightenment of our own?  And how do you convince another that the pain and ugliness of our pasts need not determine the success of our future?

 

These are the things that wear on me, that tear me down, that change my Pollyanna outlook cynical.  I’d like to believe people, as products of The Creator, are essentially good with positive objectives, that only in the most dire of circumstances we can be altered towards evil intent.  But the longer I live, the more I see evidence to the contrary.  Perhaps this is why I cling so desperately to those I see living on purpose; to those with exemplary character; and to those with tolerance and understanding to see others with eyes outside their own trappings.

 

Thanks to the tireless efforts of my Temptress, and some helpful hints from sites like BLEEPINGcomputer.com, I am back online, running more effectively than before.  It was a PITA for both of us, but perhaps this is a situation when I can look back and realize regardless of the hassles and inconvenience, of the information loss and time investment, I’m now better off because I (ok, we) had to take a break from our originally scheduled programming and focus on the unexpected.

 

In a way it was another “take time to smell the flowers” sort of lesson.  I hope in my life I always take time to understand that which the Universe is trying to impart.

 

~the laundry goddess, November 17, 2008

 

“Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.” ~Helen Keller