Barnmaven

More on that codie shit

I wrote the other day about codependence issues in regards to my own life and choices I had made.  Today I was drawn to look at some of the things I've learned along those lines in their relation to the social media of the day - Twitter, Facebook, Blogging. 

Recall this post about the ongoing kerfuffle between Chicken Liver and a few of the mommybloggers.  Its an ongoing drama - CL doesn't like Dooce or Sweetney or Sandi and a few others, and she has a blog dedicated to discussing the finer points of what they do or write about (or do and then write about).  There are furthermore a couple of blogs (The Takedown, etc) devoted to dissecting Chicken's posts (and sometimes the other aforementioned bloggers as well).  Its fascinating and an interesting byproduct of social media.

The two-way nature of the internet has allowed Joan Q Public to make her opinion known in ways never before envisioned by mainstream media.  Nobody got to append comments to Walter Cronkite's newscast.  "Rich from Michigan here, I agree that Nixon's a douche, but he's a grand statesman.  We should be happy he's our president and anyone who doesn't agree with me is a TRAITOR to America!"  "Billy Joe Bob from Tennessee.  Mr. Cronkite, unless we impeach Mr. Reagan because his birth certificate clearly shows he wasn't born in America, this country will be headed straight for hell in a handbasket!"

Blogging is in so many ways like writing in your diary, then leaving it open on your desk in class for everyone to find.  Some people write incredibly personal stuff on their blogs, others write about their hobbies or special interests.  Thanks to the advertising media realizing how much money there is to be made from the interest generated by these blogs, there are more than a few bloggers are making wads of money and gaining personal cred by sharing their personal lives on the internet.  Hell, Dooce got famous for blogging about her job and then getting fired for doing so. 

For everyone ten loyal blog followers, there's bound to be a critic or two.  And for every ten folks critical of a blog, one or two migh actually share their commentary.  And then there's the genre of blog critic that goes absolutely mind-blowingly APESHIT with their outrage over whether someone is "oversharing" or saying things that might put their children in THERAPY someday.  Its amazing.  But its not any different than reading the comments following a blurb on CNN Politics or the Huffington Post.  We all have opinions, and now that the media is there for it, we want to share them.

What's troubling to me, though, when slogging through said commentary, are the number of people in our world who truly lose their minds when other people aren't doing what they, the commenter, think they SHOULD do.  Should.  What a troublesome word that is.  Of course there are things we ought rightfully to do, legal and moral obligations.  Obligations to be a good citizen, good parent, good employee.  But when does this magical world of "should" start creating unrealistic expectations among us?  When does the insistence on "should" start indicating mental instability on the part of the insister?

In 12-step stuff you learn right off the bat that the only thing you have control of in this life is yourself and your actions.  You don't control other people.  You don't control things.  You control YOU.  Period.  The minute you get caught up in trying to control anything other than you, your life quickly becomes unmanageable.  The 12 step groups (or their more secular alternatives) center around focusing on self and taking self-inventory.  Taking inventory of others is not only discouraged, its pointed out as the sole reason our lives get out of control in the first place. 

I can't help but think sometimes that I'm watching an internet full of codependents implode when I read some of the stuff that's out there.  I feel sad that so many people are so completely unhappy and unhealthy that they spend that much time and energy spewing bitterness into the ethosphere simply because someone they've never met who lives 2,000 miles away posted something on their blog that THEY SHOULDN'T HAVE. 

Its discouraging at best.  I suppose any experienced blogger knows that putting yourself out there means you're subject to the return comments of folks who might not agree with you.  And I'm not, of course, condoning internet censorship.  I support wholly and completely the rights of free speech and fair use.  I guess I'm just saddened by the depth of misery I see out there and wish, for their own sakes, some people would center their microscope on their own lives and hearts and minds and not work themselves up into a mindless frenzy over the perceived transgressions of others.  It gets us nowhere, it does nothing to enhance the public discourse.  Its exhausting to watch.  

For today, I hope that people can achieve the wisdom and centeredness that comes from evaluating their own lives and focusing on their own behaviors and worry less about what others do. 

Peace.

Oh, and Dooce?

Heather a/k/a Dooce complained in her blog today about getting woken at 6 by her adorable new baby, Marlo.  That's right.  6 AM.  Usually following a middle of the night waking (or two) and a family in the bed.  I almost commented, then decided to "retweet..."  or rather, I guess, retweet-by-blogging.

Heather, I got NOTHING FOR YA.  I have to get up at 4 am if I want to have time to work out (meaning, alone, without kids trying to "help") or at 4:30 if I decide to skip the workout.  That's so we can leave the house by 6:30 to get the kids to school/daycare and for me to meet the carpool.  And bedtime is usually 10:30 or 11 (for me, anyway, they go down at 8) and the night is typically punctuated by a) a cat tossing up a hairball b) a dog deciding the dog bed isn't comfortable and needs to be rearranged c) a wet bed, d)even better, a kid announcing they are going potty (cause I needed to know they weren't wetting the bed and like I wouldn't have figured it out on my own when I found the un-flushed pee in the potty in the morning) or e) my own anxiety wakes me up at 3 am to remind me that  my life is SCARY! 

So Dooce, my dear, I love you to death, but dear GOD, woman, STOP MAKING ME JEALOUS!   Its bad enough you have that adorable smooshy new baby, but now I think you're just taunting me with your 6 am wake up calls. Taunting me! 

Live and let live...

I used to think that I understood that life was not something I could control.  Then, not too many months ago, I learned that I only talked the talk.  I was trying to manage people and events in my life in ways that made my life (oh, yeah, here comes the quote, you twelve-steppers know I'm just yanking it right out of the literature) totally unmanageable.

Many years ago, in my twenties, I was involved with an alcoholic.  When I say that he made me crazy in ways I could only imagine, what I really mean is that I allowed his behaviors to trigger behaviors in me that were completely not OK.  I'd always had a temper -- in that relationship I discovered whole new levels of pain and rage.  My life was a shambles, almost lost before it was lived.  Some wonderful person pointed me in the direction of al-anon, and for a time it saved me, but when I rid myself of my alcoholic, I thought I had also rid myself of my codependency.  I didn't feel bad anymore, but I didn't understand that my problems had not gone away, just my trigger. 

When I shed the alcoholic from my life more than 20 years ago, I simply replaced him with nicer people for a while.  But I didn't keep walking the walk.  And so my walk became one of only words, without true understanding of the nature of my codependent, sick behaviors.   Until recently.  I think the development was gradual, but as inevitable in its own way as the erosion of the land where the river rushes through.  Choices I made, relationships I sought, led me to where I am today.  Where I am learning to walk it instead of talk it.

Its easy when you are in a relationship, living with a partner, to decide that all the things that make you feel bad or uncomfortable are because of the other person.  You easily identify the behaviors of your partner that you do not like.  It is easy to justify to yourself "I do xyz because HE did abc."  You know that you would be happier if only that person were not longer doing or saying the things that make you unhappy. 

When you are alone at the end of a relationship, sometimes you find that things you assumed were the other person's fault were really things that YOU own.  Even the things that you attribute to the other person are often simply your own failure to set and keep healthy boundaries for yourself.   But when you're on your own, no longer have another person to point the finger at when you are having a bad day or a bad moment.  And if you look for the source of the problem, there's a very  high probability that you will find it WITHIN YOURSELF.  I am finding this true.  It is not fun.  But it is good.

If you think we don't need a public option for healthcare, read this.

Man joins the army to get health insurance for wife's cancer

This story is just one of many thousands about Americans who have lost their jobs, lost their insurance, and who are desperate for help.  What Bill Caudle is doing is more than courageous.  Man, oh man, how far would you go to make sure your partner got appropriate medical care? 

I blogged last year about my friend with cancer.  When I posted about her last year, she was leaving New Jersey for Texas to start a new life, freshly freed from the shackles of a 23-year marriage to Mr. Not Quite Right in the Head**, having undergone treatment for cancer.  Guess what?  Her cancer's back.  She's terminal.  Stage Four, CA numbers climbing, at least one visible mass and its probably in her bones at this point.  She's on a state health plan, so there aren't going to be any miracles, any fancy new test drugs or treatments.  She lost her good insurance when she left her old job, and she is now on disability.   In the article above, Bill Caudle talks about researching his state's public health care option and knowing that it wouldn't provide sufficient coverage for his wife's cancer treatments.  Its just plain wrong that our health care is a classed system, that only people with money can get better treatment.  Bill Caudle worked hard at his job for 20 years, his family shouldn't have to be going through this.  My friend has always been a working, contributing member of our society.  She has raised two smart, capable children.  Now she has to utilize the dregs of health care options, why, because she is divorced and can't no longer work because of her illness?  Give me a fucking break.

I do think the administration is missing the boat by not targeting tort reform right along with health care reform.  We can't reduce the cost of health care procedures until we can get the cost of malpractice insurance lowered.  We can't lower the cost of malpractice insurance until we put reasonable caps on award amounts for medical malpractice suits.  And we can't control the cost of the insurance until we get control over the insurance companies and put them back on task taking CARE of their insureds instead of giving their CEO's billon dollar bonuses.  Its all related, folks.  Its a big job, yes.  I think that until we boot the professional lobby out of Washington and overhaul Congress we'll never see real change.  We voted someone into office who we felt would bring change, who would BE a change - but I think we're all realistic enough to understand that the status quo in Washington DC hasn't budged an iota.

Is the problem too big to tackle?  

***Note:  This post edited for names.  My apologies to my friend, I did not realize YOUR EX HUSBAND WAS STALKING YOU ON THE INTERNET.  WHAT AN ASSHAT.

Eight

Yesterday she turned eight.  Eight amazing years of her, and so many more to enjoy.  I have been blessed with this child in ways I could never have foreseen and every day that I live and breathe I count myself lucky to be her mother.  Once upon a time, before kids, I only imagined what it would be like to have a daughter.  Little did I know that my imagination could never,ever come close to meeting my reality.   In the best sense, my dreams of being a mom never conveyed the true depth of feeling my children would engender in my, nor did my happy fantasies touch on how truly hard it is to be a parent.

My Amazon Girl is an amazing person to know and to be around.  Her disorders give her some degree of difficulty in her life and social interactions, but they also give her an intensity of feeling that when it is positively directed is amazing. She truly loves everyone she meets, and her joy at the simplest things is contagious.  She is stubborn and strong and full of steam.  When she is angry or sad she is profoundly so, but when she is happy it bubbles out of her as if she were a huge colorful fountain, spraying rainbows of enchantment over everything around her.

A few days ago I was agonizing over my hair.  I asked her what did she think if I cut it short?  She told me "I think it would look beautiful."  So I asked if she liked it long, and the answer was "I think it looks beautiful!"  "Does it matter to you whether my hair is short or long?"  I asked.   "No, mommy, I always think you're beautiful!"  Warm, happy sigh.  J and I have made so many mistakes in our lives and as parents, but clearly, we have done a few things very well.  Either that, or she has the strength and beauty within herself to overcome us. 

This is second grade

Child A:  Knock knock!

Me:  Who's there?

Child A:  Mr. McBaldy

Me:  Mr. McBaldy Who?

Child A:  Mr. McBaldy with a Cherry on Top!!   <<hysterical laughter>>

Me:  ?

But what do the CONSERVATIONISTS think?

Clicking through headlines on CNN today I came across the following gem:

Note the final bullet point on the story highlights.  Isn't it good to know that CONVERSATIONALISTS aren't concerned about the environmental impact? 

CNN.  The most trusted name in news.  <<<<<SNORK!>>>>>

That's a hell of a lot of pie...

1,725 pound pumpkin

What its come to

My mom's cousin and his wife are visiting this week; really fun, delightful people.  Wayyy better mannered than my family.  So mom calls me and says they're going out to dinner on Friday, and would I like to come?  Of course I would!  "Oh, good," mom says, "we really were hoping you could drive." 

Why is that mom? Is it because you hate driving at night anymore?  No.  No, you know why they wanted me to come?

"We need a designated driver."

I'm 43 years old and THIS IS WHAT MY LIFE HAS COME TO.  I am the designated driver for a bunch of 75 year old drunks. 

Kids, go to college and SEE WHAT THAT EDUCATION WILL BUY YOU.  You could end up JUST LIKE ME!

A smattering of this, a smattering of that

I survived the plague.  One of the chickens was not so lucky with the hawk.  I had four hens, one cute little copper-colored girl I call Penny Hen.  Pen is, I think, the one egg that was still hatching when I found the nest and so hatched in my hands.  I say this because once I put them all out from the garage into the big world, she was never afraid of me, and even now if they are loose and I call them, she comes running at full tilt.  She will eat out of my hands.  Fortunately, I did not lose Penny to the hawk, but I did lose one of the little black hens.  I have tried and tried to name them, but they look so alike that I couldn't.  They were The Pointer Sisters, now I have to think of a famous female duo.  OK, that works.  They're now the Indigo Girls.

Trying to locate my traumatized hens after I found one of them missing, I stumbled on a big cache of eggs.  You have to love chickens...you go to the expense and labor-intensive effort of building them a coop and providing them with a place to actually lay their eggs.  Oh, they've put a few in the condo, but not too many.  Instead?  They like the compost heap.  Apparently.  I did check all the eggs (you can drop them in a bowl of water...if they sink to the bottom right away they are still fresh enough to eat) and they were good.  So  Little Man and I had eggs for dinner the other night.  Child A?  She wanted chicken nuggets.  So, I guess, did the hawk...

...

Fall is here, the weather is cold and the days are getting darker.  The Seasonal Affective Disorder should be kicking in any day now, as it is it is getting harder and harder to haul my sorry ass out of bed in the mornings.  Things are not easy right now, by any means.  I knew when we made this decision to separate that it would mean while some things would be better, other things would be harder.  I accepted it then and I accept it now.  If nothing, I'm a pragmatist.  This year, I'm learning new things about myself, finding new ways to connect with the things that give me joy.  I'm re-learning those old lessons about gratitude, faith, joy and sorrow.  One of my friends-in-the-box* gave up this quote from Khalil Gibran that was particularly meaningful to me today:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked, and the selfsame well from which your laughter arises was oftentimes filled with your tears.  And how else can it be?  The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

And despite all that is difficult, all that is scary about tomorrow, I know that right now I am where I need to be. 

...

My latest fun findings on the web, for your edification, amusement and general time-wasting:

OMG! Zombie!  My question is, how did the kid get zombified inthe first place?

Star Trek meets Monty Python - "Camelot"   Star Trek is always funny.

Helpful advice from Kari Ann  Who knew you needed eye protection for that?

Skippy's List   Not really new, but always a good read.