11 years ago today...

Was my first "date" with Charlie Brown.

Time really does fly.

It was so almost a non-date it isn't even funny, but we were young and silly kids - not the best communicators. Well, that department hasn't totally changed much - communication, that is.

At the time, Chuck had been coming to terms with the fact that my best friend had no interest in him in a romantic sense....he'd chased her for quite a while and she'd finally told him they were "just friends" in the months preceding this "date."

We were always together as a threesome, she and I plus Charlie Brown. Occasionally, if the threesome was whittled down to a duo, it was always her and myself or her and Charlie Brown....never just he and I.

The friend had an appointment with a college rep the night that we were all supposed to go see Ace Ventura 2: When Naure Calls - I know, we kids, we had us some classy tastes, huh? In our defense, it was small town, (Craig, CO) middle America. We had nothin' else better to pursue.

So I called Chuck (whom I had some beginnings of a crush on) and giggled as we confirmed that the "date" was still on, sans the friend that glued us together.

He picked me up. We went, rather wordlessly to the flick.

In the crappy theatre (which still exists in all of its mediocre splendor today), we both went to put our arms on the one armrest between us. Somehow (my eyebrows are innocently raised as I retell this), somehow we ended up holding hands. Aww, ain't that sweet?

Now.......I could tell the cutesy puppy-love version, or I could go with the really transparent version......hmmmm...the transparent version disturbs me, particularly when I think about LMNOB dating someday - even with "just a friend." Hey - remember that song? LOL, it sorta fits that thought process.

Transparent version it is.

For the next 90-120 minutes (this is like right away, including previews, etc.) teenage hormones, combined with then-unbeknownst-psychological-issues for BOTH of us (mine = low self-worth girl wanting to be loved --> rush to physicality; his = tendency to only partially fulfill intimacy needs by physical means) made for a petting session that NO good girl would allow on a first date, and no upstanding young man would dare to pursue. And, get this....true to our false intimacy forms, we said nary a word for the rest of the night....until his truck arrived at my house, when I said, "I had a really good time tonight. Bye," and ducked out of his response by hurrying up to the door.

Silly high-schoolers....real intimacy is for big kids. (well, I was in highschool - he'd just turned 20)

The next day he called me and said, "Uhhh, about last night. Uhm, you see, Charlie Brown has had a crush on you for awhile."

"Me too!! Err, me on you, that is." Giggle, giggle....

And the rest is fairly bumpy, and pretty complicated, but overall happy history.............

I (heart) my Subaru

Larimer County is under a heavy snow warning. Seeing as we already have about 5" on my patio table (pictures to follow), uh, DUH! They're saying 4-8" by the end of today in the Foothills - which is our area. But does that show up on the Denver-centric news channels? Puh-shah, right!?!

Anyway....it's freaking slick outside, b/c yesterday's "snow" (which was more like freezing rain) has made a nice bed of ICE under all this new snow. And, while the paint may be chipping off of my 1996 Subaru Legacy Sedan, while the inside, littered by kids and moi, further adds to the POS designation, it is a snow drivin' machine! While beamers and other hot-to-trot cars were sliding up the hills, spinning and stalling out, I was drivin' with the big boy SUV's, enjoying the safety and reliability of AWD and anti-lock brakes.

Well folks....I have much more to say, as always, but no time. I've got meetings beckoning my precious time. I'll be back....with photos.

Edited to add: Now, it is clear blue skies and snow is melting. We got about 5" - but now thanks to the sun, I can't prove it!

Hmmmm...

Punkinhead has a funny way of saying many things.

It's par for the course with him being all of 3.

But one I really like lately is his version of, "I know how to...by myself."

It sounds like this.

"I can how to ... by myself!"

Except for I just had a thought today.... in old Scots, people say, "I ken" for I know, "I kent" for I knew.....hmmmmm. Maybe he's more in touch with his ancestry than I thought! ;-)

Growing Up Part 3

Uh...it's been awhile since I blogged much about the growing up process...

Like long enough to have had a baby. This has not happened in real life, believe you me - you'd have known. But since the last installment on this series, I did have a baby. LMNOB.

I know why it's been so long for me to get to where I could write about this. Because the bitter of the bittersweet far outweighs the sweet of LMNOB's babyhood. And.....I hate it. Let's go back in time, shall we?

2000 to 2001 was a year of many changes for me personally, but also for us as a couple.

I graduated from college in December 2000. Up until that point, I'd always wrapped my self worth up in the role of being a good student. Now that I wasn't a student, how would I prove I was a person worthy of love?

Our marriage took a a few big hits from pornography that year. It wasn't the first time, and unfortunately, they weren't the last, either. The big incident occured about 6 weeks before LMNOB arrived...More whispers from the Prince of Deception about how unworthy I was. I'd write more about that, but it's just not coming. It is written out in Chapter 21 of the book Every Heart Restored. Yep....that's our story, and it ain't pretty.


Up to the point of LMNOB's birth, and even after, I faced my torn ambivalence, hurts, and fears about my experiences with mother and daughterhood.

Talk about a tortured existence - worrying that I wouldn't get it right, mourning my derailed plans for the urban-chic lifestyle and wondering if I would ever look my child in the eye and say, "Because of you...", praying that nature would conquer the so-called nurtured part of my past. Still more whispers from the Prince of Deception, this time about how inadequate I would be.

Then...on March 1, 2001, she came. She came and she stole a piece of my heart. She shall forever have that piece until, and even after, this heart of mine stops beating.

What lay ahead for us was more of the above - and I remain convinced that had God not given me this tiny little angel to care for, I probably would not be here today - typing "memoirs" at the ripe age of 27, a mostly happily married, do-gooder mother of 2. I weep at having found this realization long after this time in our lives, and mourn that I didn't see her for the ray of golden sunshine that she was in my life at that time. And, don't get me wrong, she still is a ray of golden sunshine - she's just got the ability to sass along with shine nowadays.

In May of 2001, all of my college buddies - all 3 of them, lol- were graduating, moving away and becoming post-graduate career people. We attended a couple of graduation parties, with baby LMNOB in tow. That was weird, and grounds for a few fights as I saw Charlie Brown eyeing some of the more luscious co-eds around the town.

Money grew tighter and tighter, and it became clear that I needed to find a job. When LMNOB was 4 months old, I applied for all sorts of jobs. Office assistants, social work, child care, restaurant work, anything. When none panned out, my ego suffered.

And what was a nagging case of Post Partum Depression escalated in the midst of situational stressors. We're talking several nights where I had to talk myself out of "just going out for a drive....." right over Horsetooth Reservoir's steep cliffs.

I thank the Lord that He designed us such that we do not have memories (usually) of our infancies - because Charlie Brown and I were failures as parents that first year with LMNOB. We were not good to each other, either. I'd learned to numb myself and escape from reality as a child, but I mastered that skill during this time.

Just before LMNOB's first birthday, I secured a job with our local mental health center. Note to self: LMNOB should not go into teaching or non-profit/social work if she ver intends on repaying her student loans. It wasn't working with kids or families, but it was a job. And I took it, gladly. (If you do the math, it was SEVEN months of rejection letters) At the time, I saw it as just a job.

Now, however, I know that it was the starting place for me. I found myself in that job, not only in the friendships formed, or the job description - homeless outreach worker and subsidized housing coordinator for persons with mental illness - but also in the trials I faced with some programmatic frustrations, systemic barriers, and downright ethical dilemmas.

I like to think that I "came of age" there, even though I was married, a mother, and all of 22 prior to working there ;-)

Well......that wasn't so bad.....memory lane proves to be rough terrain, but not so bad when one is well-prepared. More next time...

I'm here...

And....as is usually the post-holiday, trip back home, case, I am struggling.

Mom was good....well, ok. It would have helped morale if she'd answered the door on Saturday morning, the scheduled day of our visit, in something other than her bathrobe and bedraggled hair. But, our visit was decent and fairly noneventful. Yay for the team.

In the moments leading up to said visit, however, Charlie Brown was a major blockhead. For what it's worth, I was too. Suffice it to say that I'm still feeling hurt and I don't feel removed enough from the incident to rationally talk about it, yet.

Kids, I'm sorry for what will likely be remembered as an air-quoted happy family memory - please send me the bill in 20 years - I'll gladly pay it to appease the guilt.

*sigh* This is where I get sucked into the trap of feeling sorry for myself. Can someone lend a hand out of the Pity Pit?

Testing

Now that I've gone over to the Beta side...I'm thinking about labeling/categorizing my posts.

This is a test...

Of how non-creative I can be....lol - those are bound to be changed before I can say I'm happy with them.

Also - messing around with the whole template thing - not totally stoked with this look yet, but it's liveable.

The fear of being transparent

It's been awhile since I posted a post re: church stuff....Hopefully my non-churched readers don't find this offensive - but, I stick to the "my blog, my material" pretense ;-)

So, back to the title - the fear of being transparent.

This fear is alive and well in all of American society, but ironically so in Christian churches.

Call me a revolutionary or whatever, but if churches are full of sinners, reformed or otherwise, don't you think we'd heave a huge sigh of relief and freely share - since everyone is just as plagued by sin as the other?

Even the Bible points us toward practicing confession....repeatedly

- As a means to prepare for Christ : Matthew 3:4 John's clothes were made of camel's hair, and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. People went out to him from Jerusalem and all Judea and the whole region of the Jordan. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River.

- With each other : James 5:16 Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

- And, with the Lord Himself : 1 John 1:9 If we confess our sins, [then] he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

The implications of those last two send chills up my spine. They are conditional.

Confess sin so that you may be healed.... Let's do a linguistic exercise here....let's negate the sentence's condition. [Do not] confess sin so that you may [not] be healed.

And (in best aerobic instructor voice), let's wrap our minds about that again, If we confess our sins, [then] He is faithful and just and will forgive and purify us... How does that look when we negate it? If we [do not] confess our sins, [then] He.... will [not] forgive and purify us....

And yet, I cannot recall the last time someone 1.) came forward at the end of my church's service to do this, or 2.) approached me to confess and pray with them.

I can recall the last time I've done both. This is not to toot my own horn, but to give credibility to my questions here. Last January, I walked up the aisle of my church, with legs of leaden weight, shoulders hunched over, consumed with sorrowful sobs wracking my entire body. As the elders came forward to talk with me, I barely could get it out. I'd entered a depression.

Wait a minute, stop the presses - Depression is NOT a character flaw - that's not SIN!

Just roll with it, okay? I will wrap that all up in a nice, tidy little package soon enough.

Back to the confession....Because I was winning a losing battle at depression, our finances had gotten wretchedly botched up (yeah, I wear that hat here too), my kids had a Mommy Dearest who was ready to go off the deep end at any little thing, and quite honestly - I'd gotten to where I didn't want to live anymore. I knew I needed help, and Charlie Brown, bless his heart, was not sufficient for this cause. God had me rally my troops - via confession. And wouldn't you know it, I got to a doc, was put on meds, and the church bolstered us through the icky situational factors. (This is of course, the VERY condensed version) I received healing as a result of my confession. It is the darndest thing when the Word we say we trust, actually comes to pass - almost as if we didn't totally believe it til we tested it.

For weeks afterward, friends from church told me how much they "admired" my "transparency," and would ask how it's so "easy" for me? People say that, but is it just lip service? Where is the action of such a statement - because it isn't seen in sitting comfortably in the pew on Sunday.

Ok....this is turning out to be longer than I thought it would....looks like a part 2 type post, but let me leave you with this thought:

With regard to confession being "easy" for me - It's no easier for me than anyone else, but if I can't be transparent with other human beings, mere mortals who are equally as flawed as I am, then how in the world am I going to be transparent with the God who created the universe? Who knows all, is totally, 100% perfect and Divine, but still wants to hear me say, "I goofed - take me back?" Confessing to my brothers and sisters is just practicing for the real deal........

To be continued....

Delurk-ey all you Turkeys.....

I have it on good authority that this week is Delurking Week.

For you new to the whole blog/message boards phenomenon, LURKING is when you read these sites but never post or say, "I'm here." DE-lurking is revealing your self, or at least anonymously making a comment. Which I'd be interested in seeing....because I've tried a few times, usually after a high traffic day, to get people to make a shout out and show me just who is reading.....hasn't worked much this far - I usually get 3-4 responses.

But, I love this little trend - leaving a blogstone - which looks like this (o) - in lieu of stumbling to find something significant to say. Yeah, nodding my head, that's for those of you who are just too tongue tied at the end of my magnificent posts.

So, c'mon, in the spirit of delurking week, leave a note or stone......

Deep Breath In - I've a LOT of Things I Want to Get Off my Chest....

Ready??????????????

First off....I'm in my original, white-trash state of mind today. What this means is that in the place of intelligent adjectives, my self-talk has been using the same, overdone and trite, but oh so cathartic to say, swear words. All. Day. Long. I hate that I revert to this when upset, but $#it happens, eh? I will spare you readers from this and try to cleverly alternate symbols with letters to get both the foul and the fine words communicated, on an "I'll read what I want to read into it" basis.

Hmmmm......

Now where to start? Mom, or Charlie Brown?

I suppose, since "She started it" in the sense of my beef with her came up first, and has continued to steadily brew, Mom goes first.

Now, if you are steady readers of my ramblings, you'll know that 23 days ago, I called my mother to get holiday scheduling ironed out. For those who aren't - here's a recap as the history is important.

Today....

The silence was broken. In the meantime, lots of unspoken messages were communicated. Nevertheless, today, I received this gem, subject line "The Holiday":

Hello-
Sorry for the delay in getting back to you! I know you called a couple of weeks ago to make plans and until today I didn’t know what plans would be.

Got that? Didn't know until today what her plans would be....also note, a couple weeks, instead of 3+...anyway, watch the detail, b/c it gets a bit confusing.

Here is what I have going on:

I am off on Thursday and we will be having dinner between 2:00 & 3:00.

I will be working at the office on Friday 8:00 to 5:00 and then I work at the bar 8:00 PM to 2:00 AM.

My shift at the restaurant starts at 4:00 on Saturday and ends at 2:00 AM.
That would leave Thursday to get together or Saturday afternoon to visit.

I know you said you wanted to negotiate time together. I was a little offended at that term, part of the reason I haven’t called, because I do not want to fight with you. It upsets me that you need to negotiate!!

So which is it? That you didn't know your plans, or that you would rather manipulate me with silence - oh so maturely - because your feelings were hurt over semantics. FUNK it all..... I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but it pi$$es me off that I have to negotiate, for a variety of reasons which stem from a diverse array of persons - so you're not alone, Ma, though once again, your feelings are numero freaking uno. My kids get tension and weird family dynamics b/c your feelings were hurt and you couldn't just suck it up to overlook a word (one that I thought would be rather neutral) that offended you and schedule things in advance, which is the real reason you didn't call - not this bunk about not knowing your schedule. Political correctness and worrying about what others find offensive is enough of a strain at work, I'm not willing to incorporate wordsmithing, beyond basic courtesies, into my communications with family.

As I have told you in the past, I have tried to do things that would not interfere with your other plans but my plans always get changed so this year I will tell you what I have going and you can decide time that you can spend with us.

Nice tactic - Mom. I can see right through the "ball's in your court" technique - but guess what? I already had that ball, gave it to you and you DROPPED it with this silly silent treatment game.

Anyway, I would love to see you and spend time with you and your family. Let me
know what works.
Have a great day!!
Love ya,
Mom

Oh, we're all sorts of sunshine and giggles and extra exclamation points again..... Oh bother!

I'm mad. Angry even. I put boundaries in place to BENEFIT her, and she's turned them around to make herself look the victim. The FUNK of it all is that she believes she is a victim - and her feelings are genuinely hurt. Which just sucks because I hate being perceived as cold or callous or mean.

I hate that she thinks I've "painted her out to be a monster on this blog" - which I never intended for her to read, but then oops, I let the URL out of the bag by sending her a funny Punkinhead story.

She's not a monster.

My mama is a loving woman who feels deeply. And I know that she loves me irrevocably. But she had some unspeakable things done to her as a child (which I should NOT, but do, know about), and they largely shaped her into the person she is today. I feel badly that she has to deal with that. Mom can be a fun person to be around, and when we have good times, they're good. For me, they're also pretty rare. I've mourned that my entire existance.

Mom, these words have been said by me to you before, but I want you to really hear them, please.

You did the best you could, the best you knew how to from the examples set before you. Those examples were not good enough and they failed you - you had to experience some sick $#it that makes my blood boil. I'm so sorry for that, but there is nothing I can do about that. And you tried to right some of those things. Some you got very right, like the times you held 3 jobs to keep our heads above water, and other times, like when you and all your friends would lock the laundry room door and smoke pot while we kids fended for ourselves, you failed like all those before you. Just because you got some of the things right does not mean I escaped my childhood unwounded.

And, just because I was wounded does not mean that those wounds have not healed - they have and I have accepted my scars for what they are. These scars are still there, and will always remind me that things weren't always as they shoud. But they don't hurt anymore, and they've faded - healed quite nicely, really. That's forgiveness, Mom! And as I've tried to offer it to you before, so it is here before you again. It doesn't change the past, it just says it is what it is.

What continues to plague me is the game that continues to be played by you. I don't do well with manipulation, Mom - it brings the absolute worst out in me. You should know that - it's been a key part of me for at least the last 20 of my 27 years.

I'm trying to be fair. And I wish you could know the blood, sweat and tears that goes into me trying to be fair - it's freaking hard stuff.....hard enough to be as sensitive as I am and fair with your kids, harder still to have to worry about dealing with "fair" for your parents.

Between you and Ryan, I stand defensive at all times....there is no soft place to fall (thanks Dr. Phil) for me with you - instead I fall and stand accused of bias against my family of origin, being cold and hateful, and unforgiving. Nothing could be further from the truth.

As it stands, I made Mrs. Charlie Brown Sr. hold off on Thanksgiving day plans until I'd heard from you...to a point. Last week when I hadn't heard from you, I told her to plan whatever for Thursday and we would work you in when we heard from you. She picked the same time as you have for festivities. As my new precedent stands (a la 3M's birthday), we'll work it in, and forego Thanksgiving day with you. It sucks to say that. But I'm sticking to my boundaries for all fairness' sake. So, I've already penciled in a morning and afternoon with you on Saturday - as that's what works.

And now...I'm through my little temper fit. It helps me to see the whole picture (as much as 1 person can, anyway) and remember that somwhere below all the games, my Mommy - who loves me dearly is in the words that get spoken (or unspoken in this case). We'll probably never have a "normal" relationship.....but, it is what it is.

Channeling Sally Field

Even though her infamous thank you speech was uttered when I was only 6 years of age, (and even though she's not dead, and even though I'm really not in the practice of channeling spirits, and even though....lol) I have some of that incredulous spirit very alive and well inside me.

At which point does this kind of thinking cross over from humility (which is good) to self-doubt and/or insecurity (which is very, very BAD)? Or worse yet, when does it become that insidious false humility, a front which fishes for compliments from others and stokes a usually already inflated ego? I ask this especially of women, who tend to discount compliments faster than Wal-Mart rolls back prices....including myself.

I'm sitting on an honor...so to speak.

And, I did the Sally Field thing with The Boss this morning - when she told me that I was going to get a letter telling me I'd been selected for the 2006 Individual Recognition Award from the Affordable Housing Coalition of Larimer County.

That's the, "You're our Person of the Year," from a group of peers and colleagues with varying degrees of power and prestige - but mostly, this group of people has HEART like ya'll wouldn't believe, so it's truly an HONOR.

Dorky me: "Nuh-uh....REALLY?!"

I've never been nominated for anything before, well, save for the holiday party committee at work that NO ONE wanted to be on - I was absent from that meeting! Point being, I've never been an "in the spotlight" kind of girl...or popular, really. Just the get it done, go to girl who isn't known for her charisma or vitality. Kind of like a hardworking, slightly more cheerful Eeyore. No nominations = no fancy awards. Ever.

The Boss: "Yes. Congratulations! This is huge - recognition for all the hours you put in above and beyond the call of duty."

Dumb me: "For what? The Homeless Count?" Duh Red, you may as well have been Jane Doe Homemaker and just said, "Oh, that little old thing?"

The Boss: "Yes." Unspoken, what are you, high?? :)

You-like-me-you-really-like-me Me: "Wow....I don't know what to say, I mean - I've told you there are things I would have done differently, a lot differently."

The Boss: "That is exactly why they're waiting until December to do the presentation of the award and the luncheon! Think about it, you just say "thank you" and you take it, you don't try to downplay it, b/c you will get criticism enough in life, but this?!? You say thanks and you take it while you're getting it. And that's all. there. is. to. it."

I'm so glad for the big sisterly side of The Boss. Which is why her quirks don't bother me so much - b/c she is a lot like a big sister - well, what I always imagined a big sister would be like...but that's another post.

The award is likely to be little more than a framed piece of paper, but it means a lot to me. If you recall, I had to convince even the agencies who would benefit from the project to participate. Which is timely today, because to quote myself from Larry James' comments section:

As much as the letter, and other NIMBY critics, lights my fire, really, all
they do is inspire me to keep educating and advocating. Sometimes it does fall on deaf ears, but just thinking about the potential power of if what I have to
say might actually change someone's view....But then...I'm known as the one City
employee who invites her critics to join citizen commissions, empowering them to
do more than complain...lol.

This award says that my words about the homeless and near homeless didn't fall on deaf ears - and that makes me glad-hearted. I feel that is what God has put me on this earth to do, and hearing validation from other people with similar goals just bolsters me all the more. God wants us to live in loving community with Him and with each other; each step I can take to realizing that for Him and my neighbors, is one step closer to Him.

And...step by step You'll lead me

And I will follow You all of my days.

Peace and grace be with you all............

I think the answer just hit er, splashed me....

Ewewewewewewewewewewwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

The question being that of my brother's; why are fewer people getting [and/or staying] married?

I was IM'ing him today, having a reasonable conversation re: my comments below his article (in the link above) and other helpful critiques, when all of a sudden Punkinhead says from the bottom of the stairs:

"Mama, I just spit up."

Being somewhat dense, clouded in that I-just-radically-jumped-gears-from-having-an-intelligent-conversation-to-dumbing-down-to-the-3-y/o's-level frame of Mommy mind, I quickly assumed he was talking about his recently renewed fascination with spit bubbles and other infantile methods of self-entertainment.

But, just as I turned to offer the obligatory, "What, Baby?" he was at the top of the stairs, making 3 piles of what he ate for lunch. And there was more downstairs too. LMNOB was screaming, as she is hysterically squeamish, at not only the mere presence of the barf, but at the Scriptural prophesy being acted out (sorta - it wasn't hers) by our Black Lab.

Mmmm....Ryan, I think I have your answer.

Dealing with other people's vomit is a deterrant to the whole married, with or without kids, phenomenon.

Yes, Charlie Brown's been known to actually make it to the toilet when ill with a GI bug, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he cleans it up when his innards have just been involuntarily and quite violently flushed out.

Gross.......and........Punkinhead and I are long overdue for a discussion on how one actually has to CHEW the food one eats for proper digestion to occur.

You're more than welcome for the visual.