I'm 43 today. It's a gloomy day, weather-wise. I don't mind growing older and usually make elaborate plans to celebrate my birthday but it's Friday and Hammy and I are both working and tomorrow, Zed is having friends over to belatedly celebrate his birthday (which was the 17th of February and we were all sick with the flu), so I won't be enjoying my birthday the way I usually do. This year, my birthday is just another day, which I sort of feel disappointed about. I usually love to celebrate being on Earth another year.
My monthly cycle started Wednesday evening. My cycle is becoming erratic, again. Prior to becoming pregnant with Carmac, my cycles would be anywhere from 30 days to 90 days in length. After his birth, for the past 4 1/2 years, they've been on the short side: 25-30ish days. This month, it was long again. I don't keep really good track but I think it was about 10 days or so longer; long enough that I started panicking about being pregnant again.
The fear of being pregnant is a strange knee-jerk reaction. Hammy and I have had very little opportunity for quality "alone" time since before I went to Chicago and he has had a vasectomy! You'd think I would logically conclude that my hormones are changing in my body. But I've had five pregnancies, only one of which was planned (two ended in miscarriage). When I perceive that my period is late, I immediately panic and live in fear, imagining "what if?".
Yesterday, I rode my scooter to work. Riding, especially for work, takes a lot of concentration and organization as I have to be aware of all my work equipment, the scooter, traffic, helmet hair, etc. Being (excuse the phrase) "on the rag" also takes a lot of my awareness (you women know what I mean). Combining the two was a serious distraction. Usually when I ride I feel powerful. Yesterday, I just felt scattered and out of sorts. I found myself looking forward to menopause.
I love being pregnant. I love being a fertile woman. But I know that time is passed for me. I'm much too young to be a crone but right now I feel I'm in a sort of hormonal limbo called peri-menopause. So, I'm 43 and looking forward to growing older rather than looking back to what I'm loosing. I'm not meaning to hurry time but I do look toward a time when my body becomes a little less disruptive and complicating to me.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
different drummer blues
Why? Oh why am I forced by my own nature to always, but always, color outside the lines? Why does my own drummer have such a syncopated beat? Why can't I just do like everybody else? Why must I always do things differently? I'm tired of always having to work so hard to do what most people never give a thought to.
Yeah, I'm committed to living my life as long as I am able without a car. I feel called to make this a part of my testimony and feel right about this decision. But geez, I'm tired; my ankle hurts, my muscles are sore and my knees and hips ache from the miles I walked yesterday (and I'll be taking the kids to homeschooling this afternoon so we'll be walking and riding the bus again in a couple of hours). I left my house at 9:30 yesterday to work, walked miles in the rain (schlepping my work/computer bag and my winter coat with me because the temperature was supposed to drop) to a couple of my cases and returned home at 2:30 in order to grab Zed and Carmac and run back to the bus stop to go to aikido.
Homebirth, cloth diapers, extended breastfeeding, family bed, homeschooling, recycling, living frugally and simply, trying to avoid too much media, trying to help my children be aware of the bombardment of marketing, governmental propaganda and cultural norms which are useless or even harmful. And now living without a car. I'm always swimming upstream. I'm always struggling against the flow. My calls to live an examined life usually result in a considerable amounts of sacrifice and discomfort-physical, financial, emotional sacrifice and discomfort. Usually I have righteous indignation to fuel me but I feel tapped out, dry; exhausted (pity my poor husband who only has his love for me to sustain him).
It happened as I struggled through the rain with my very heavy computer bag down a cobble-stone street in my clogs (after having twisted my ankle as I moved quickly to avoid getting hit by a car on my street). Generally, rainy, cold, unpleasant weather doesn't bother me too much (except heat-I really do not like it too hot). As a matter of fact, I often take a kind of perverse pleasure in inclement weather, priding myself on my ability to not mind it. But yesterday was too much. I'm in the rain, struggling with the wind and my umbrella and I just thought: "WHY? Why do I put myself through this kind of discomfort and inconvenience? Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be like everybody else and not think so hard and work so hard and make everything a challenge for myself and against our culture at large?!"
I just don't know right now.
I need to hear something to sustain me. I need inspiration; a message of encouragement. I need to be affirmed for these crazy, stupid choices I make to live right.
Yeah, I'm committed to living my life as long as I am able without a car. I feel called to make this a part of my testimony and feel right about this decision. But geez, I'm tired; my ankle hurts, my muscles are sore and my knees and hips ache from the miles I walked yesterday (and I'll be taking the kids to homeschooling this afternoon so we'll be walking and riding the bus again in a couple of hours). I left my house at 9:30 yesterday to work, walked miles in the rain (schlepping my work/computer bag and my winter coat with me because the temperature was supposed to drop) to a couple of my cases and returned home at 2:30 in order to grab Zed and Carmac and run back to the bus stop to go to aikido.
Homebirth, cloth diapers, extended breastfeeding, family bed, homeschooling, recycling, living frugally and simply, trying to avoid too much media, trying to help my children be aware of the bombardment of marketing, governmental propaganda and cultural norms which are useless or even harmful. And now living without a car. I'm always swimming upstream. I'm always struggling against the flow. My calls to live an examined life usually result in a considerable amounts of sacrifice and discomfort-physical, financial, emotional sacrifice and discomfort. Usually I have righteous indignation to fuel me but I feel tapped out, dry; exhausted (pity my poor husband who only has his love for me to sustain him).
It happened as I struggled through the rain with my very heavy computer bag down a cobble-stone street in my clogs (after having twisted my ankle as I moved quickly to avoid getting hit by a car on my street). Generally, rainy, cold, unpleasant weather doesn't bother me too much (except heat-I really do not like it too hot). As a matter of fact, I often take a kind of perverse pleasure in inclement weather, priding myself on my ability to not mind it. But yesterday was too much. I'm in the rain, struggling with the wind and my umbrella and I just thought: "WHY? Why do I put myself through this kind of discomfort and inconvenience? Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be like everybody else and not think so hard and work so hard and make everything a challenge for myself and against our culture at large?!"
I just don't know right now.
I need to hear something to sustain me. I need inspiration; a message of encouragement. I need to be affirmed for these crazy, stupid choices I make to live right.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Family Update
We have been the house of illness and sorrow. When I got to Chicago, on the 6th, I called home and found out that Zed was sick (Zed and Carmac stayed at my parent's house Wed-Fri). Hammy took him to the DR on that Saturday: Zed had the flu. I got home late on Sunday to find Carmac was coming down with it. Within a day, Hammy got it and then, the next day, I got it. We all were on anti-biotics, so we had the accompanying stomach misery.
I think it was the day I started coming down with it that I went to the pharmacy to pick up meds and on the way, took our dogs out but apparently forgot to latch the gate on the fence. Both of the dogs were gone when I returned. Our mutt, Argus, returned a few hours later but our lab, Lucy has not been heard from since. We were feeling too sick to drive around looking for her, or really, truth be told, to care much for several days (we're all very sad now).
The only one of us to avoid getting the flu was Declan. He had his wisdom teeth removed though, on Valentine's day, so he was also out of it. It took almost 3 days for his gums to stop bleeding. They finally stopped just when we were thinking we'd need to take him to the emergency room to have sutures put in.
Yesterday, Declan came home with a bad sore throat. I took him to the DR today and found that he has strep throat. He is now on anti-biotics.
Zed turned 13 on the 17th. We were on the mend but still too out of it to do much to celebrate. I did make a cake but we didn't get to do any of the normal things we do to celebrate a birthday. Next weekend, he's going to invite a friend to do something.
It's still sinking in that I've got two teenagers, now. My sweet Zed has entered that treacherous place known as adolescence. Over the last couple of months, I've noticed that he's increasingly moody and temperamental. He'll be sweet and affectionate one moment and then something will prickle him and he'll get angry or really mouthy. Sigh...
The good news is, although he's still definitely a teenager, Declan seems to be outgrowing the stage of having to rebel all the time against everything I say, do or am. Lately, he's been a lot nicer to his brothers and he and I have actually been having some decent, thoughtful conversations.
Anyway, our family is all better (except Dec, who will be within 24 hours). I've been working on my new work project, which is going well. Yesterday was sunny and in the 50s so I rode my scooter all over town contacting my cases. I had terrible helmet-hair by the end of the day, but a great lotta fun working! I used about 2/3 of a gallon of gas and went 62 miles!
I think it was the day I started coming down with it that I went to the pharmacy to pick up meds and on the way, took our dogs out but apparently forgot to latch the gate on the fence. Both of the dogs were gone when I returned. Our mutt, Argus, returned a few hours later but our lab, Lucy has not been heard from since. We were feeling too sick to drive around looking for her, or really, truth be told, to care much for several days (we're all very sad now).
The only one of us to avoid getting the flu was Declan. He had his wisdom teeth removed though, on Valentine's day, so he was also out of it. It took almost 3 days for his gums to stop bleeding. They finally stopped just when we were thinking we'd need to take him to the emergency room to have sutures put in.
Yesterday, Declan came home with a bad sore throat. I took him to the DR today and found that he has strep throat. He is now on anti-biotics.
Zed turned 13 on the 17th. We were on the mend but still too out of it to do much to celebrate. I did make a cake but we didn't get to do any of the normal things we do to celebrate a birthday. Next weekend, he's going to invite a friend to do something.
It's still sinking in that I've got two teenagers, now. My sweet Zed has entered that treacherous place known as adolescence. Over the last couple of months, I've noticed that he's increasingly moody and temperamental. He'll be sweet and affectionate one moment and then something will prickle him and he'll get angry or really mouthy. Sigh...
The good news is, although he's still definitely a teenager, Declan seems to be outgrowing the stage of having to rebel all the time against everything I say, do or am. Lately, he's been a lot nicer to his brothers and he and I have actually been having some decent, thoughtful conversations.
Anyway, our family is all better (except Dec, who will be within 24 hours). I've been working on my new work project, which is going well. Yesterday was sunny and in the 50s so I rode my scooter all over town contacting my cases. I had terrible helmet-hair by the end of the day, but a great lotta fun working! I used about 2/3 of a gallon of gas and went 62 miles!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine
This is the song I awoke with this morning. I must say that I have to interpret "salvation" and "washed in His blood" as metaphors for transcendence or "living in the cross" or being searched by the Light. The song, though, is old and powerful and beautiful. It will be my mantra today as I go to Monthly Meeting and attend Worship for the Conduct of Business.
vs.1
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long;
this is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long.
vs.2
Perfect submission, perfect delight!
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
(Refrain)
vs.3
Perfect submission, all is at rest!
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with his goodness, lost in His love.
(Refrain)
vs.1
Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.
Refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long;
this is my story, this is my song,
praising my Savior all the day long.
vs.2
Perfect submission, perfect delight!
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.
(Refrain)
vs.3
Perfect submission, all is at rest!
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with his goodness, lost in His love.
(Refrain)
Friday, February 22, 2008
Last night, I bumped into someone who I used to be very close to twenty years ago. He is a writer and some of his essays are available on-line. After we stopped hanging out, he kind of became a pot-head. A few years later, he became a born-again Christian. Now he writes reviews for a mainline Protestant publication. I read a few of them yesterday.
I don't understand the presumption of people who are convinced that they have the only true path to salvation. This old friend writes about the spiritual aspects of the music he reviews. Leave, for a moment, the arbitrary nature of any kind of review and just think about how rediculous it would be to attempt to review pop music based on it's SPIRITUAL merits. I love music and I use music as part of my spiritual practice but I couldn't say music is Good or Bad based on the overt spiritual tone of it's creator, or lack thereof.
How could I say that this is the Right Answer? The world is full of people and most of those people believe something entirely differently from me, even those who's beliefs are similar. How do people believe that their interpretation of things is the only correct one? Even within mainline Protestantism, many people believe that their denomination, or even their church, is the one with the real truth. It seems so arrogant. And selfish. And divisive.
I would imagine that there must be a great comfort in KNOWING but then what does one do with doubt? I don't think life is good/bad, right/wrong, black/white. I don't believe there are many hard truths. I think there are many truths and my job is to find the one that God is leading me to. As I grow and change, my truth may change. My truth may change because God is forcing me to grow. How in the world could I presume to tell another what to believe; what is true?
I don't understand the presumption of people who are convinced that they have the only true path to salvation. This old friend writes about the spiritual aspects of the music he reviews. Leave, for a moment, the arbitrary nature of any kind of review and just think about how rediculous it would be to attempt to review pop music based on it's SPIRITUAL merits. I love music and I use music as part of my spiritual practice but I couldn't say music is Good or Bad based on the overt spiritual tone of it's creator, or lack thereof.
How could I say that this is the Right Answer? The world is full of people and most of those people believe something entirely differently from me, even those who's beliefs are similar. How do people believe that their interpretation of things is the only correct one? Even within mainline Protestantism, many people believe that their denomination, or even their church, is the one with the real truth. It seems so arrogant. And selfish. And divisive.
I would imagine that there must be a great comfort in KNOWING but then what does one do with doubt? I don't think life is good/bad, right/wrong, black/white. I don't believe there are many hard truths. I think there are many truths and my job is to find the one that God is leading me to. As I grow and change, my truth may change. My truth may change because God is forcing me to grow. How in the world could I presume to tell another what to believe; what is true?
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