Such a boost to crappy day

I'll post the crappy day details tomorrow sometime. Or maybe not, depends on what I think about it after I sleep on it.

Also - it will depend on the feedback I receive from a lengthy e-mail I sent to some fellow city employees tonight.

Anyway, the boost, without further ado, comes from Ms. M, LMNOB's teacher(proud mama emphases, mine):

A couple of things... thanks for the hook-up to your last blog about LMNOB. I like to hear that my kids are making these strong connections out of class too!

Just an FYI for you (however, I will be sharing all of this with you at your next conference in February) LMNOB read a passage for me today that was at the 4th grade level! She is doing amazing. She is a great decoder and her comprehension kept up with her. After answering the questions, and I scored it, this particular passage was right between the instructional and frustrational level for her.
She did amazing with it!

To answer your question about the backpack... after our bear hug, I asked her if she felt like she wanted/needed some "work" this morning and she said yes. I suggested taking her coat off and putting her backpack back on. She didn't even hesitate and said "ok".

That last part referred to a hard sensory issue morning we had this morning. Her backpack always has her weighted lap pad/rice bag in it, so it was good input.

My girlie is doing so well in the realm of reading. She just started reading Little House books, courtesy of my sister's Christmas gift to her, and is loving them.

On Teaching Faith and Non-Judgments

LMNOB is growing up, more and more these days in her thoughts.

Some of the conversations we have are starting to alarm me, as they make me think, "Whoah, there - can't we cross that bridge a bit later?" or, "Hold up, let's clarify for a minute and discuss all the different angles of this."

Some of these conversations are very academic - for instance, before Christmas break LMNOB had been assigned to read a new Magic Treehouse book. When I asked her what it was about, she said, "It's about our war, you know the American one from olden times?"

"Well, we had several - but is it about the Revolutionary War, with George Washington, or the Civil War?"

"What's the Cibil War?"

And from there ensued a long [epic, considering her usually short-lived attention span with communications] discussion about how slavery used to be a practice, and how some people didn't like it, but others did, and how a war came about from that. Towards what I thought would be the end of this discussion, LMNOB made connections from the "Cibil War" to Rosa Parks and MLK Jr. Which led to more discussion, and my feeble attempts to illustrate connections in her everyday world (and given that we live in Vanilla Valley, that was not much more than pointing out that Little Bill is black and yet, just like us in many ways).
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Then on the way to OT just before Christmas, LMNOB blurted out in the back seat, "I wonder what BT the OT celebrates."

"What do you mean?"

"You know...like does she celebrate Christmas, or Hannukah, or Wanzaa?"

"It's 'Kwanzaa,' honey, but I don't know what she celebrates either - you should ask her. It would be good practice for your communication."

So she asked BT the OT, and BT the OT proudly proclaimed that she celebrated Christmas, and how she just loved that LMNOB asked her that.

Afterward, in the car, LMNOB quietly muttered, "But Mama, I wonder if she celebrates the REAL Christmas."

As the statement faintly stank of judgment, I was a little perturbed. "What do you mean honey?"

"Like, does she believe in Jesus, or does she just like Santa and all the toys?"

"Well, honey, we don't know that. And that is a very personal question to ask, which is ok, but what if you asked her if she believed in Jesus and she said no?"

Shrugs were heard from the back seat. "I don't get it - what do you mean?"

"Well, if she were to say 'No, I don't believe in Jesus,' would you think less of her, like would you think she was bad?"

Exasperation was thick in her response, "Mooooooooom, of course not!"

"Ok, Lil Miss...I just wanted to make sure, because if you did, that's judging and Jesus would never want us to do that. He hated it when people judged others, know why? Because we all mess up, and just because we think one way doesn't mean we should EVER treat people who think another way any differently, because we are no better than any other person."

I must have belabored my points because when I was done, she said, "Okaaayyy Mama, I get it."
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Last night, we had another such conversation at casa del Meyer while I was fixing dinner. Punkinhead was talking about loving stuff, and was all "I love my hockey doll," and LMNOB said, for the first time that I've heard, that age old line, "If you love it so much, why don't you marry it?" Then laughed like she was the first person to ever think of that.

That alone about cracked me up.

Then I heard Punkinhead say, "Fine, then I WILL."

And LMNOB went all, "BOYS CAN'T MARRY BOYS!!"

At which point I intervened and said, "Actually, some places they can."

"Well, even if they COULD, they WOULDN'T, THATS WEIRD!"

"Well, it's not the majority, you're right there, but some boys actually do love and 'marry' boys and some girls actually do love and 'marry' girls."

('marry' just because I didn't dare go into the technicalities of gay rights and civil unions, marriages, etc! Also, was very glad my homophobic hubs was not home!)

Boy could I see her little wheels turn after that....but she didn't ask me any questions, and I didn't want to burden her with information overload. She is maturing every day, but she is still only 6 - she doesn't need to know it all just yet.

Plus, that said, I don't know it all just yet - how could I ever just pretend to hand The Knowledge of All Things down to her? These things are faith and values-based, and while I have my own faith and values that tell me I would love for her to arrive at the same understandings as mine, I also want hers to be her OWN. I don't want to fill my child's mind with propaganda and "Thou Shalt Not's" that she blindly accepts without questioning.

No Jesus Camp for me, thank you very much.

But between school and church and friends and other family, I am but one voice she hears.

Hopefully one of THE voices, you know? The ones she actually listens to?

Because I probably don't say it enough...

Charlie Brown is a good man.

He has been a soft place to fall for the past few months, in times when the falls have had a little more force behind them than normal (i.e. some folks/events have been pushing me down).

He hasn't magically grown wings and become my Fairy Housekeeper. He still suffers from moments of parental distraction (case in point: Tuesday I had a City Council meeting. I came home and Punkinhead reported he'd taken a bath. Wednesday morning as I sprayed his hair before combing it, bubbles formed. Punkinhead reported, "But I did my hairw allw by myself!" Yes, son, apparently you did), and tends to be, well, such a guy about things.

But, what he has done is paramount to that other stuff.

He's actually said, on multiple times, and without provocation, "Hey, I forgot to ask you about how xyz event went. Do you want to talk about it?" whether xyz event was a good thing OR a bad thing. This is huge.

He's told me how much I mean to him. And tells me how much it bothers him when others aren't fair/honest/nice to me.

He's cooked dinner an awful lot - which isn't so much a change as he just asks if he can do it more.

He's a hard worker, and gets little credit for it at work.

He has a heart filled with good intentions - and it's true what they say about intentions, but if I sit and remember that he started out in a good place it puts things in perspective.

He's touched me more lately - and not just in a sexual way, but in that very physical I'm-here-if-you-need-to-lean kind of way. But also in the sexual way ;) It's all good.

It's like I was telling my surrogate mum (yeah, she's a red-headed Brit old enough to be my grandma, but she's Mum to me) the other night, Charlie Brown and I have a very bipolar marriage. We have ups and downs like anyone else, they just seem to go to the extremes. And at that, Mum just laughed at me and told me she loved me and my idioms.

Anyway, you're a good man Charlie Brown - and I'm lucky to have you.

Waxing Blo[g]xistential

(Blo[g]xistential = Blog + Existential in case you're wondering)

So the other day I was asking some bloggy to be or not to be's and I didn't really post the answers. Partly because I didn't [still don't] have the answers fully processed. Another partial cause is due to having been E.X.T.R.E.M.E.L.Y. frappin' busy with work. The Boss has too, in fact today she said aloud to herself, "Ok, just breathe. Calm. Pheeeeeeeeeewww." I asked her if she was ok, and she says, "Oh gosh, I'm sorry - I just have so many things rolling inside my head I had to just say 'Cool it!'" We both laughed then, because it is so true. The post-holiday craze of getting life back to normal, or some other such thing.

Without further ado, though, I would like to try and sort this out in my mind.

1.) Why do I blog?

This question was asked of me almost 2 years ago, when I first started blogging. My answer remains much the same:

2. I know you're new to blogging. What influenced you to start a blog, and what do you hope for out of it?
-- I am recently re-diagnosed with major depression (2nd time in life) and trying to face myself in a very real way. For a long time, I have repressed things, such as my ambivalence towards what feels like Plan B for my life, or my lifelong pipe dream to be creative with my writing. I am at a point now where it's not likely I'll be writing freelance or otherwise for awhile, and journalling doesn't keep me accountable to creative expression so much as record keeping, so I guess with a blog (and hopefully a readership following it) I'm hoping to return to better use of my brain and abilities, keep a meaningful and expressive hobby that is fulfilling, and generally put myself out there for anyone who wants to see. Coming of Age Entertainment/Education Reality-Style.

Trying to face myself in a very real way. Still. Also, while I have long been a trumpeter, a caller of attention to the elephants in the room of my life, there were a few things that were elephants in the room in my own mind, such as:

-motherhood isn't my great calling or strength;
-seemingly self-confident and strong me has felt rather insecure and weak throughout my life;
-despite believing in the Holy Trinity I sometimes experience doubts, anger, and fear about God;
-my marriage isn't perfect and I am prone to second guessing and using my youth as a scapegoat [i.e. I was too young to get married] when we are in hard times;
-and who knows how many other similar sorts of things

As an analytical sort, I want to know why I am the way I am - as such, this exploration that my blog affords me delves into my upbringing and experiences, the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. As these experiences often involved more than just myself, sometimes my blogging points to other people who've shaped me - my mother, my husband, my siblings, my children - in good and bad ways.

Some people think that such introspection can best be done on paper - privately. And for some people that's true. It hasn't proved to be for me - I start paper journaling, and before a week is up, I've dead-ended. Blogging, I have lasted for almost 2 years. And it has helped me a lot.

Two years ago, the elephant in the room was that I was seriously depressed and thinking about ending my life, albeit vaguely. Despite wanting desperately to talk about this, no one wanted to hear about it. Not that they didn't care, but it hurt them to think that I was hurting that badly, and it was a damned uncomfortable topic. So I didn't talk about it, even though everyone close to me knew that I was depressed and on meds, discussion about these feelings I was drowning in were off limits. Except for here.

Here, I found support. And community. Perspectives different than my own or those so close to me.

Most importantly, I felt HEARD.

So what if it wasn't the people who "needed" to hear me? For the first time in my life I am heard, and validation to my feelings is given. I may not be totally understood, given that what is written about here is only but a facet of my complicated self, but not only do people come to listen to my voice here, they HEAR it, absorb it, digest it, respond to it with something other than, "That's not true!"

I blog because through blogging I am finding myself and I am heard.

Peace Takes Courage, part II

In my first installment regarding the application of the idea that Peace Takes Courage, I worried about the growing political tensions about the newly established temporary inclement weather shelter for the homeless.

As of Monday, I’d heard a majority of City Council was against renewing the lease. I’d also heard that they wanted the City Manager to recommend discontinuation of the lease so that they (the elected officials) wouldn’t have to be the voice of dissent. Our City Manager stood up to them and recommended that the lease be continued for this season. Tuesday, the Council would have to vote on it.

Tuesday morning, I went to the City Manager and let him know that I supported his recommendation and would be in attendance if he needed my input on anything.

My heart thumped at the meeting, in anticipation of merchants protesting, “Not in my backyard” and heat from the officials. I chanted internally, “Diplomatic and logical, diplomatic and logical” over and over as a reminder to myself to keep things in check. When it came time to public comment and the vote, however, I was pleasantly surprised. I didn’t even need to speak!

City Council’s dissenters re: the shelter obviously felt that the community was largely for this, and left their opinions at the door, voting in favor of extending the lease this winter.

As for plans for next year – we’re on the verge of something big – I can just feel it..

Another option

I think I like this one better - what do ya'll think?

Revamping

I've been quiet the past couple of days.

Thinking about why I blog. What I blog. Who I blog.

And thinking about why I should blog. What I should blog. Who I should blog about.

Leave it to "should" to change things up.

Anyway...I'm still pondering this.

In the meantime, I want my blog to illustrate whatever it is that I decide it to be.

What think you of this for a new header?

Apparently the elephants in the room are all in my mind

I got my mental ass kicked this weekend.

For something I'd written about here.

I'd intended to demonstrate understanding of 2 sides to a particular issue, but instead it was perceived as judgmental, insensitive, etc.

Thus, I'm not going to be quite so "real" here.

It's not safe for me to do so, which is shit really b/c I started this blog to keep it real for myself - beyond journaling, there are readers who help me gain perspective on the things I write about, those who see things both differently and similarly.

I may be starting a blog safe for the elephants to be discussed, open by invitation only. I may not, then too.

A Meeting of the Hearts

Wednesday morning, I took the kids to meet my sis, her beau, bro and his roomie at a coffee shop across from LMNOB's school from last year.

Punkinhead proudly announced that he was going to go to school next year and Ms. S was going to be his teacher.

LMNOB was quick to correct, "Nuh-uh! Ms. S doesn't even work there anymore, AAAAAAAAAAAND, we go to LocalNeighborhoodSchool now!"

Punkinhead, "Awwww.....but Ms. S is the bestest teacher evewr."

LMNOB, quietly, "Yeah, she was."

That night, Sis and Beau came over and we played the dumbest board game known to man, er, I mean a game we received as a gift this year. At one point we were asked if we could write 34 in Roman numerals. I, in a very S-M-R-T moment, scribbled IIIIV quite smugly and then realized I was quite wrong. Doh! XXXIV, Heather.

LMNOB immediately wrote a note on one of the game's papers.

Dear Ms. S...
I learned how to write 34 in Romen numrals
XXXIV
Love,
LMNOB
I (heart) u Ms. S. You are the graetist teacher.

She had studied Roman numerals at school last year, and we marveled at her memory.

Fast forward to tonight --->>>

We went to Tarzhay for some necessaries.

Charlie Brown had written the list on the back of the aforementioned note, having told me, "Be careful with it. If LMNOB sees that other side, she's gonna kill me!"

We'd split up as Punkinhead was in top form.

LMNOB and I were studying stationery when a familiar voice said, "Oh, wow, if it isn't my favorite girl!"

We looked and lo! It was Ms. S! The bestest kindergarten teacher a first-time mother could have ever asked for. A woman in whom I'd confided some of my deepest fears and entrusted my child to her loving care.

We hugged, we talked, and I told her, "I have to show you something - it's a funny coincidence," I said, alluding to many previous conversations about faith and how all thing happen for a reason, as I pulled out our shopping list. "LMNOB did this Wednesday night."

We talked. And talked. It was SO good to see her. I'd e-mailed her before Christmas to tell her about LMNOB's progress, and she'd gotten it, just hadn't had time to respond. I understand, life is B.U.S.Y.

We hugged some more - and her new principal walked by - Ms. S waved him over and said, "This is LMNOB from my kindergarten class last year - check out this note she wrote the other night," and showed him excitedly.

Ms. S was a kindred spirit for me, and it was a good reminder to keep in touch.

In which I must heed my own ramblings...

I'm upset.

I have lots to say about a particular matter - but my heart is weary. Could this be compassion fatigue?

I've already said QUITE a lot on this matter. And that's only what I've blogged. Let us not forget the many conversations, e-mails, and presentations I have made trying to get people to see the BIG picture, as opposed to their own favorite perspective, that which is but a lone pixel in the whole of the image.

According to shelter director Overnight Guy1, however, shelter organizers do not have a plan if the City Council denies the continuation of their lease.

And that just makes me mad, because when something is conditional, temporary, and/or going to be reevaluated in 6 weeks, perhaps you ought to figure out a Plan B just in case.

But, that's just the thing - this man has not done ANY of the leg work, instead guess who has had to hold everyone's hand at the 11th hour, and put aside the other important tasks on my list? Yeah, and while I believe in the cause, I resent the manner in which it has been put together.

Daytime Dude said he’d actually like to see a more-open policy at night; the current city policy requires all people to pass a breathalyzer test.

It's a BEST PRACTICE!!! It's not fool proof, it's not a guarantee, but it is implemented by every shelter in the state. Why sacrifice the potential safety of many for the convenience of one?

“Are we trying to get people in out of the cold, or are we trying to help their habits?” Daytime Dude said. “Let’s judge it based on their behavior instead of what they blow on a breathalyzer.”

Again, I will remind Daytime Dude that one of the shelter guests has demonstrated past behavior that is very disturbing (twice over it has since been made known, and the last a mere six months ago), while under the influence of alcohol. It would seem that we ought to indeed try to help this man's habits as a matter of public safety. Don't get me wrong, I know this homeless man, love him and everything, but in the end, I'm not going to risk the welfare of others because he has a weakness to alcohol.

And, I have reason to believe that is what the shelter operators have done, seeing as how a whole bag of mouthpieces just happened to disappear last month. End result: Until a new shipment came in, they didn't have to breathalyze anyone for two days.

As they all look toward the future, everyone seems to agree the problem being solved should be the roots, not the effects, of homelessness.

As this paragraph immediately follows the breathalyzer commentary, it is assumed that substance abuse is to be taken as the effect of homelessness, rather than as a root. Which I find astonishing, because it seems to me that is one of the greatest chicken and the egg dilemmas in the field of social work, and by golly they seem to have found the answer, in order to speak with such certainty.

I'm venting here.

It is a multifaceted issue, and this post is just airing my emotions about one angle. I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that my personal and professional actions do differ, but the end result is the same - I care. I want to end homelessness, not just manage it.

But, as I close this post and consider my actions, I have to keep telling myself:

Peace takes courage because it means sometimes letting go of me being right and having faith that all things will be made right, eventually.

Peace takes courage because it means releasing the hold on my own understanding and having to ask for help from the One who told us to seek His Ways.

Please pray for me to be courageous, ya'll, and speak Truth in Love only when prompted by the Spirit - not my own understanding.

Payin' it Forward

Jason called this afternoon.

He's still in Denver, still doing his in-patient program.

He called as he found my number and wanted to let me know how much our interactions meant to him - how hitting bottom that second day we'd known each other really has helped him in his recovery.

I told him I was glad that it had worked out that way - that he'd been in our prayers regularly since having met him.

He thanked me, and told me that he would always remember us and would try to pay it forward and keep it real with people he met in life.

And that, friends, made my day.

Also made me think about a line from Toby Mac's Diverse City:

We 'bout to do this thing for real
Diverse City got mass appeal
So put your hand in the hand of mine
And we'll spread this love like dandelions