Ana, at bedtime tonight:
Momma, sometimes I wonder if God is good or bad.
If he's good, then why do I have the dreams with the bad guys in them, and fits and stuff?
That's what I'm trying to figure out. How do I figure that out, if God is good or bad?
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Elliot's glasses
We picked up Elliot's glasses yesterday, and put them on him this morning.
Ain't he cute?
He only wore them briefly, of course. We didn't administer the drops that would make his vision blurry (and neccesitate the glasses).
I already see the challenge of keeping these on and in tact.
Let's hope they help!
Friday, March 28, 2008
Recovery
I can feel myself coming back. Last week was undoubtedly up there with one of the most challenging. Lance's murder was extremely jarring. I didn't anticipate how much the services would affect me. Typically, these things make me cry, but I leave with a sense of peace and acceptance. This service, full of Lance's family, friends, and teachers, left us all sobbing in heaps on each other. With the death of one so young, with an event so untimely and preventable, only questions remained.
I did learn more about who Lance was today, and it was of great comfort. He was preparing for confirmation, and going to these classes at church each and every Sunday. He'd asked one of his teachers to sponsor him. She spoke with great pride of Lance's faith and commitment. I learned that Lance was walking home after playing video games when he was shot. And I learned that another friend, an employee with the Juvenile Justice Project, will be representing his murderer. His murderer was 15. How much more tragic can this get?
At the service, there were many former students. The bonds between us still so strong. As we cried together, the beauty and importance of teaching was reinforced from the pulpit. Oh yes, we have our work cut out for us. And these kids, no matter how much time passes or where they go, will always be "our kids." I suddenly felt scared for them all. Scared for the baby I'm carrying. Suddenly, the fear of being pregnant became the fear of letting the baby go. Out into this crazy world. I threw everything up for the next two days.
I've found great comfort this week in spending more time with children. My own, and other people's. Just hearing the things they say, or having them ask me for a hug (when I so need one) has been healing. How can one not laugh in the presence of a child?
Ana and El and I have been planting in the garden, and removing old leaves. The days have been so lovely with spring here. I've felt the simple pleasure in the breeze and sunshine, and the longer days spent outside.
Other gifts have been in the form of, well, gifts. My friend Georgia surprised me with a meditation book in the mailbox. About 20 of the pages were dog-eared. Her favorites. The thoughtfulness of this gift is extraordinary to me. Words of comfort, hand-chosen, for me to read when I'm in need of a lift. This is definitely one gift I'll have to pass on.
I'm moving on. But I'm scared to forget. I want to remember that anger, and do something with it. I want people to learn about Lance, and about the countless others who we lump into the heaps of non-news generating murders. I want the courage to keep living in the city I love. A city where there is so much pain, and endless hope.
I did learn more about who Lance was today, and it was of great comfort. He was preparing for confirmation, and going to these classes at church each and every Sunday. He'd asked one of his teachers to sponsor him. She spoke with great pride of Lance's faith and commitment. I learned that Lance was walking home after playing video games when he was shot. And I learned that another friend, an employee with the Juvenile Justice Project, will be representing his murderer. His murderer was 15. How much more tragic can this get?
At the service, there were many former students. The bonds between us still so strong. As we cried together, the beauty and importance of teaching was reinforced from the pulpit. Oh yes, we have our work cut out for us. And these kids, no matter how much time passes or where they go, will always be "our kids." I suddenly felt scared for them all. Scared for the baby I'm carrying. Suddenly, the fear of being pregnant became the fear of letting the baby go. Out into this crazy world. I threw everything up for the next two days.
I've found great comfort this week in spending more time with children. My own, and other people's. Just hearing the things they say, or having them ask me for a hug (when I so need one) has been healing. How can one not laugh in the presence of a child?
Ana and El and I have been planting in the garden, and removing old leaves. The days have been so lovely with spring here. I've felt the simple pleasure in the breeze and sunshine, and the longer days spent outside.
Other gifts have been in the form of, well, gifts. My friend Georgia surprised me with a meditation book in the mailbox. About 20 of the pages were dog-eared. Her favorites. The thoughtfulness of this gift is extraordinary to me. Words of comfort, hand-chosen, for me to read when I'm in need of a lift. This is definitely one gift I'll have to pass on.
I'm moving on. But I'm scared to forget. I want to remember that anger, and do something with it. I want people to learn about Lance, and about the countless others who we lump into the heaps of non-news generating murders. I want the courage to keep living in the city I love. A city where there is so much pain, and endless hope.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Where's Lance?
"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee" John Donne
Far too often lately, I've been witness to discussions among community activists and neighborhood advocates decrying their boredom, or lack of interest with the crime problem in "other areas." First off, it's quite clearly coded racist talk, it's not our problem, it's "theirs." The presupposition that these issues are isolated to one community is faulty, as any mid-upper class victim of violent crime can attest. And the silent assent to the killing off of a whole generation of young black men is disturbing, and has caused me to question my participation in these civic groups who view the success of an area through such a gentrified lens, or at least fail to recognize how each segment of our population makes this great city the place we relish.
Hearing this talk just hours after learning of Lance's murder made me dangerous company on Friday afternoon. I feel unable to hold my tongue, and my emotions are bubbling close to the surface. I know I'm not alone in struggling with this. During my daily blog reads, I learned that this has affected a friend whom I didn't work with professionally. She knew Lance too. I wonder how many others were crying in their offices on Friday, like Shokufeh and I? Did Lance know how many of us were in his corner?
Quite honestly, I'm feeling devastated. I heard the news of the murder on Frenchman on Wednesday night, and shrugged it off, like all us New Orleanians have become adept at doing. Shamefully, it is the knowledge of this same variety of "street justice" that gave me comfort after Kevin was held up at gunpoint by a man who went on to murder another. I slept better months later, thinking that "the guy who held up Kevin was probably killed. That's just the way things work around here."
Knowing one of the young black men who was killed has made it all harder to bear. The lack of media attention around this is painful. The intimate knowledge of the amazing potential of this individual calls me to question all the systems that might have failed him. On a personal level, I feel a sense of failure. We were often reminded in our daily work that our job was not to "save" these children, but make them less vulnerable. Yet every news report, and wanted ad, and obit that didn't feature one of my former students somehow left me feeling vindicated. "No, those aren't our kids. Our kids are trying to get through high school, succeeding in college, holding down a job." That was my inner dialogue...now I wonder if we could have done something more. But the truth is we certainly did our best. Lance graduated with a toothy smile, after three challenging years. I know any other school would have kicked him out long ago. But Doc's psychology degree and infinite patience helped us look at Lance as a person, and because of that, we learned to appreciate all of him, and were invested in helping him through his personal struggles. And he worked so hard to get there. It was all a leap of faith. Lance believed in his future, and so did we. What a loss for us all.
My friend Laura and I processed this together Friday night. She wrote a piece for the Times Picayune op-ed the next day. She doubts it will be published because of the length, but I find it thought provoking and worth sharing.
Thanks, Laura, for your poignent words, and for letting me share them:
"I didn’t really take notice when the news reportedyet another unnamed black young man gunned down in the7th ward. The narrative is so familiar that I havebegun to tune it out. It was Frenchman Street, butwith a sigh of relief and recognition, I noted thatthe 1600 block is on the “other” side of St. Claude. But then an email came from a former colleague. Lance Zarders, one of our former students, had been fatally shot. How could that be? If a young high school student had been murdered, surely I would have seen iton the news. Wouldn’t such a crime have made the front page?
Only a few months ago the death ofMadeleine Prevost had garnered such attention. A student at Lusher; she had a promising future. What ashock that her young life was cut short so tragically because she took drugs and overdosed. Ever sincethen, the public has received regular updates in thenews related to the arrest of the criminals that“forced” Maddie to make the tragic choice that tookher life. So what of Lance, a student at Math & Science HighSchool, just down the road from Lusher, tragically gunned down on the street, murdered in cold blood? What does Lance merit? Not much apparently, just a small piece inside the Metro section (page 4) by an unnamed staff reporter. Nothing about his life, his hopes and dreams, his troubles, all his promise cutshort. Just “victim identified… 17 year old shot to death.” No outrage, no march to city hall. Just silence, maybe even boredom.
I too was ready to let this most recent death just wash over me, like so many others. But this time I can’t. Lance was my student. He was a part of my life for three years. When I watched him walk across the stage at his 8th grade promotional exercise I thought,okay, he’s had some rough patches, but he’s going to make it. He wouldn’t just end up another statistic. What if every single death in this city was treatedwith the same attention and energy as that of HelenHill and Maddie Prevost? Maybe then we couldn’t allow ourselves to be lulled into the complacent “not in myback yard” mentality that allows us to keep trudging our daily rounds without breaking into tears. To rationalize away the violence. But Lance Zarders was a real person. He was my student and his life wasworth more than a 4 inch square box in the Metro."
Friday, March 14, 2008
17-year-old shooting victim identified
by The Times-Picayune
Friday March 14, 2008, 6:54 PM
The 17-year-old shot to death Wednesdsay night in the 1600 block of Frenchmen Street has been identified by the Orleans Parish Coroner's office as Lance Zarders of New Orleans.
Police officers sent to that location after getting a 9 p.m. call about a man shot there found Zarders lying in the street with multiple gunshot wounds. Zarders was pronounced dead at the scene by emergency medical technicians, according to John Gagliano of the Orleans Parish Coroner's office..
A dark-colored van was seen leaving the area after the shooting, police said.
Homicide detective Anthony Pardo is investigating.
Police asked anyone with information about the incident to call Crimestoopes at 822-1111 or toll-free at 1-977-903-7867. A caller could receive a cash reward of up to $2,500 for information leading to an arrest and indictment in the case.
*************************************************************************************
Lance was clever, and mischievous. His writing was full of humor and insight into human character. As my friend Kiersten (another teacher of his) quipped, "I always thought he'd grow up with funny stories of what a pain-in-the-ass he was in school." We all expected Lance to grow out of the trouble he made, especially since most of it was typical adolescent behavior.
In the time Lance was at Charter, he learned to fight us less, and work with us more. And when we shook hands at graduation, I remember the feeling that he'd transcended so many hurdles, and had learned to be a part of our community, and he had learned from each of us, just as we'd learned from him.
I loved you Lance. You are gone much too soon. And I'm left with questions and anger. What happened? Why did you make these choices? What could've been done to help you?
by The Times-Picayune
Friday March 14, 2008, 6:54 PM
The 17-year-old shot to death Wednesdsay night in the 1600 block of Frenchmen Street has been identified by the Orleans Parish Coroner's office as Lance Zarders of New Orleans.
Police officers sent to that location after getting a 9 p.m. call about a man shot there found Zarders lying in the street with multiple gunshot wounds. Zarders was pronounced dead at the scene by emergency medical technicians, according to John Gagliano of the Orleans Parish Coroner's office..
A dark-colored van was seen leaving the area after the shooting, police said.
Homicide detective Anthony Pardo is investigating.
Police asked anyone with information about the incident to call Crimestoopes at 822-1111 or toll-free at 1-977-903-7867. A caller could receive a cash reward of up to $2,500 for information leading to an arrest and indictment in the case.
*************************************************************************************
Lance was clever, and mischievous. His writing was full of humor and insight into human character. As my friend Kiersten (another teacher of his) quipped, "I always thought he'd grow up with funny stories of what a pain-in-the-ass he was in school." We all expected Lance to grow out of the trouble he made, especially since most of it was typical adolescent behavior.
In the time Lance was at Charter, he learned to fight us less, and work with us more. And when we shook hands at graduation, I remember the feeling that he'd transcended so many hurdles, and had learned to be a part of our community, and he had learned from each of us, just as we'd learned from him.
I loved you Lance. You are gone much too soon. And I'm left with questions and anger. What happened? Why did you make these choices? What could've been done to help you?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Off center
It doesn't take much to knock me off balance these days. I don't know if it's hormones, daily challenges, or just my own changes happening to me...but lately, minor occurances have the makings of an emotional moment:
-getting dressed. What the hell to wear?
-well-intentioned Mother of Four scoffing at my avoidance of soft cheese and beer while pregnant. Spoken like a women whose only had typical pregnancies.
-constant nausea. Can't even enjoy my favorite pastime anymore! I lost 5 lbs. this last month. But this is typical first trimester for me.
-Random work mishaps, like a new employee failing to show up for work.
-the absence of fresh corn and white onion in the fridge for tortilla soup. It came out fine with frozen corn and green onions.
Today, I was really trying to dig myself out of this sad place, and just tried to take my lead from the kids, who are so good at modeling unbridled joy, open-ness, and without expectation, relish the surprises of the day. Something I'm working hard to do. So after a morning of cooking, we headed to the front garden. Inspired by my green-thumb friend who posts pics of her haven nearly daily, I knew we had some work to do in the long-neglected garden rife with sycamore leaves, and random weeds. I did find it quite therapeutic to work in the soil, however short-lived with El heading down the sidewalk at 10 minute intervals. I felt like myself for a minute, out in the sunshine, uncovering doodle bugs.
Then El opted for car play. One of his favorites...we open the car and he pretends to drive (sans keys). When I opened the car door, there it all was. The evidence of another random car pilfering. Someone had looted our car. Papers. Pennies. Tampons. Everywhere. Every hidden compartment door hanging open. WTF.
And for what? I don't think there was anything of value in the car. If there was, it went without our noticing. The police came, quickly. The crime scene guy came, quickly. Ana learned about fingerprints and was fascinated...more fascinated than scared of random people invading our space, yet again.
I'm working to get back but I really think the only way through this funk is THROUGH.
I'm off to get some retail therapy. Maybe that will temper at least one daily meltdown.
-getting dressed. What the hell to wear?
-well-intentioned Mother of Four scoffing at my avoidance of soft cheese and beer while pregnant. Spoken like a women whose only had typical pregnancies.
-constant nausea. Can't even enjoy my favorite pastime anymore! I lost 5 lbs. this last month. But this is typical first trimester for me.
-Random work mishaps, like a new employee failing to show up for work.
-the absence of fresh corn and white onion in the fridge for tortilla soup. It came out fine with frozen corn and green onions.
Today, I was really trying to dig myself out of this sad place, and just tried to take my lead from the kids, who are so good at modeling unbridled joy, open-ness, and without expectation, relish the surprises of the day. Something I'm working hard to do. So after a morning of cooking, we headed to the front garden. Inspired by my green-thumb friend who posts pics of her haven nearly daily, I knew we had some work to do in the long-neglected garden rife with sycamore leaves, and random weeds. I did find it quite therapeutic to work in the soil, however short-lived with El heading down the sidewalk at 10 minute intervals. I felt like myself for a minute, out in the sunshine, uncovering doodle bugs.
Then El opted for car play. One of his favorites...we open the car and he pretends to drive (sans keys). When I opened the car door, there it all was. The evidence of another random car pilfering. Someone had looted our car. Papers. Pennies. Tampons. Everywhere. Every hidden compartment door hanging open. WTF.
And for what? I don't think there was anything of value in the car. If there was, it went without our noticing. The police came, quickly. The crime scene guy came, quickly. Ana learned about fingerprints and was fascinated...more fascinated than scared of random people invading our space, yet again.
I'm working to get back but I really think the only way through this funk is THROUGH.
I'm off to get some retail therapy. Maybe that will temper at least one daily meltdown.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Happy Birthday, Georgia!
Our good friend and neighbor, Georgia, turned 29 yesterday. We spent an evening of delicious food, libations, and music at her sweet Mama and Daddy's house. The home was full of people, each with their own "We love Georgia" sentiments and stories.
Our family's friendship with Georgia is relatively new--post-Katrina, but has proven to be a tremendous gift in our lives. Georgia is kind, thoughtful, and so incredibly funny. It's always a treat to see her and her lovely daughter strolling our way for an impromptu playdate, or having them over for dinner, or spending an evening out. It's definitely increased our property value to be so close to this natural resource(-;
Thanks Georgia for the light you bring everywhere you go. The children love you, and I'm so grateful for your friendship. Happy Birthday!
And don't forget to send me the pics from last night so I can post(-;
Our family's friendship with Georgia is relatively new--post-Katrina, but has proven to be a tremendous gift in our lives. Georgia is kind, thoughtful, and so incredibly funny. It's always a treat to see her and her lovely daughter strolling our way for an impromptu playdate, or having them over for dinner, or spending an evening out. It's definitely increased our property value to be so close to this natural resource(-;
Thanks Georgia for the light you bring everywhere you go. The children love you, and I'm so grateful for your friendship. Happy Birthday!
And don't forget to send me the pics from last night so I can post(-;
Friday, March 7, 2008
12 week check up
It's been a pukey first trimester.
We had our 12 week visit yesterday. I was a little anxious about the visit because I'd experienced some very painful cramping on Sunday night, and I was eager to hear the baby's heartbeat. Funny thing is, on Wednesday night, I swore I felt those first distinct kicks, so was somewhat reassured.
At our doctor's visit, the nurse was unable to find the baby. "This is not unusual for 12 weeks," she reassured. I nervously told her that I felt like I needed to hear that heartbeat. Those cramps had me worried.
It was back to the ultrasound machine. They must think I'm going for a photo collection of our little peanut. There was baby. And strong (fast 170 bpm) heartbeat. Doctor saw a fully developed spine, skull and arms and legs. No word on gender.
We talked about the standard blood tests that I need to get before next time. The Alpha Protein came up again. The screen for Down's and trisomy 18, and a couple of other things. When I was pregnant with Ana, we discussed this at length, before concluding that the test results would not change anything for us, and might just make us anxious. We opted out. With Elliot, it was easy to dismiss. This time, it was easy to dismiss too. This little peanut is ours. The fear that I felt that night with my cramps showed me how quickly I'd connected with him/her. And the tears I felt when I saw the heartbeat let me know that we are in this for the long haul.
I can't wait to meet the little one.
We had our 12 week visit yesterday. I was a little anxious about the visit because I'd experienced some very painful cramping on Sunday night, and I was eager to hear the baby's heartbeat. Funny thing is, on Wednesday night, I swore I felt those first distinct kicks, so was somewhat reassured.
At our doctor's visit, the nurse was unable to find the baby. "This is not unusual for 12 weeks," she reassured. I nervously told her that I felt like I needed to hear that heartbeat. Those cramps had me worried.
It was back to the ultrasound machine. They must think I'm going for a photo collection of our little peanut. There was baby. And strong (fast 170 bpm) heartbeat. Doctor saw a fully developed spine, skull and arms and legs. No word on gender.
We talked about the standard blood tests that I need to get before next time. The Alpha Protein came up again. The screen for Down's and trisomy 18, and a couple of other things. When I was pregnant with Ana, we discussed this at length, before concluding that the test results would not change anything for us, and might just make us anxious. We opted out. With Elliot, it was easy to dismiss. This time, it was easy to dismiss too. This little peanut is ours. The fear that I felt that night with my cramps showed me how quickly I'd connected with him/her. And the tears I felt when I saw the heartbeat let me know that we are in this for the long haul.
I can't wait to meet the little one.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Specs
On Tuesday, we had our first visit with the new pediatric opthamalogist. His name is Dr. Ellis, and he's the head of the department at Children's Hospital. I'm trying to give all the details because you should write his name down, and keep it just in case you ever need an amazing doctor for your little one. He was fabulous.
Can I say that in the first 20 minutes, we learned more from the nurse about El's eyes then we have in 2 years of visits with what's-his-name? This doctor structures the visit to get as much information as possible. It's a 2 hour visit (yes, even the first one), and first, the nurse conducts a series of tests, pre-dilation. Then, El's eyes were dilated. He was so cooperative that the nurse asked if we were sure he was two! After 45 minutes, the nurse came out with some cool looking camera, and looked at El's eyes. When she was sure he was ready, they showed us into Dr. Ellis' office promptly.
Dr. Ellis was a grandfatherly looking sort, with a warm smile. He was accompanied by two interns. I was immediately impressed with the rapport and teaching I saw happening from the doctor. He examined El's eyes for about 10 minutes, and then explained to us what he saw. Elliot has 2 issues happening with his eyes- vertical and horizontal ones. Vertically, El's eyes tend to wander inward when looking at an object upclose. His eyes separate as he fixes them at an object in the distance. Secondly, his right eye is higher than the left, and when he gazes to the left, this creates double vision, and he tilts his head to compensate. He then also chooses which eye to look through. What a lot of work just to see! This is called 4th nerve palsy. The muscle in his right eye that should be tempering this floating upward isn't as strong as it should be. This could be repaired through surgery, but the combination of the issues creates a different issue.
And so, Elliot is getting glasses! as a first attempt to treat this. First we'll do single specs. After 6 weeks, we'll go to the doctor again, and see how the glasses are affecting his eyes. If they aren't working, little El will get bifocals! If that doesn't work, then we'll talk surgery.
The doctor must've thought we were off our rockers. We were laughing and carrying on. So relieved to finally know something about Elliot's eyes, have a possible course of action, and a doctor we can work with through this.
And, quite frankly, I can't wait to see El with glasses. Can he possibly get cuter? I know it will be a whole new management issue...Kevin wore glasses and had eye surgery at age 5---and his glasses frequently ended up "lost" or in the toilet. I'm wondering how Elliot will respond to these.
In any case, this is great news for us, and we're thrilled to see if we can help Elliot adjust to these issues, now that we know what they are!
Can I say that in the first 20 minutes, we learned more from the nurse about El's eyes then we have in 2 years of visits with what's-his-name? This doctor structures the visit to get as much information as possible. It's a 2 hour visit (yes, even the first one), and first, the nurse conducts a series of tests, pre-dilation. Then, El's eyes were dilated. He was so cooperative that the nurse asked if we were sure he was two! After 45 minutes, the nurse came out with some cool looking camera, and looked at El's eyes. When she was sure he was ready, they showed us into Dr. Ellis' office promptly.
Dr. Ellis was a grandfatherly looking sort, with a warm smile. He was accompanied by two interns. I was immediately impressed with the rapport and teaching I saw happening from the doctor. He examined El's eyes for about 10 minutes, and then explained to us what he saw. Elliot has 2 issues happening with his eyes- vertical and horizontal ones. Vertically, El's eyes tend to wander inward when looking at an object upclose. His eyes separate as he fixes them at an object in the distance. Secondly, his right eye is higher than the left, and when he gazes to the left, this creates double vision, and he tilts his head to compensate. He then also chooses which eye to look through. What a lot of work just to see! This is called 4th nerve palsy. The muscle in his right eye that should be tempering this floating upward isn't as strong as it should be. This could be repaired through surgery, but the combination of the issues creates a different issue.
And so, Elliot is getting glasses! as a first attempt to treat this. First we'll do single specs. After 6 weeks, we'll go to the doctor again, and see how the glasses are affecting his eyes. If they aren't working, little El will get bifocals! If that doesn't work, then we'll talk surgery.
The doctor must've thought we were off our rockers. We were laughing and carrying on. So relieved to finally know something about Elliot's eyes, have a possible course of action, and a doctor we can work with through this.
And, quite frankly, I can't wait to see El with glasses. Can he possibly get cuter? I know it will be a whole new management issue...Kevin wore glasses and had eye surgery at age 5---and his glasses frequently ended up "lost" or in the toilet. I'm wondering how Elliot will respond to these.
In any case, this is great news for us, and we're thrilled to see if we can help Elliot adjust to these issues, now that we know what they are!
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Letting Go
I know that some pains define us so deeply that they feel impossible to extricate ourselves from. I've experienced this first hand.
I've also felt the joy of letting that pain go, and finding room in my heart for something I couldn't have expected.
That process takes much time, and love, and support. And I wish that for you.
I also wish for myself, for the increased ability to let go of expectation. This is one of the great lessons of my marriage to Kevin, who embraces letting go as a personal philosophy. No doubt one of the factors contributing to his light and seemingly carefree demeanor. He's so open, and takes each challenge as it comes. I'm amazed when I see Kevin laughing when things have gotten so frustrating that large veins are pulsing in my forehead. I long for that freedom from disappointment. And that's just what it is. It comes from having no expectations. From just seeing what happens.
In the relationships I've managed to remove expectation, I find that I am able to forgive, and protect myself from hurt. My brother and dad come to mind. My brother is mentally disturbed, with great anger and vitriol that can be unleashed without provocation. My dad has little interest in relationships. If it wasn't for my mom, he'd wither away in front of the TV. I know he loves us, but he seems incapable of participating in our lives.
At some point (maybe it's with the safety of my own family with Kevin) I've learned to not take their pains and struggles personally, and let them do what they have to do with no expectation for them to behave according to my theoretical definitions of Brother and Dad. Right now, I'm trying to do that with a Friend. and this Baby. I know it will allow me to enjoy whatever comes along in my life-journey. It's very hard to get to this point. And I know it will be a process I work through my whole life.
I've also felt the joy of letting that pain go, and finding room in my heart for something I couldn't have expected.
That process takes much time, and love, and support. And I wish that for you.
I also wish for myself, for the increased ability to let go of expectation. This is one of the great lessons of my marriage to Kevin, who embraces letting go as a personal philosophy. No doubt one of the factors contributing to his light and seemingly carefree demeanor. He's so open, and takes each challenge as it comes. I'm amazed when I see Kevin laughing when things have gotten so frustrating that large veins are pulsing in my forehead. I long for that freedom from disappointment. And that's just what it is. It comes from having no expectations. From just seeing what happens.
In the relationships I've managed to remove expectation, I find that I am able to forgive, and protect myself from hurt. My brother and dad come to mind. My brother is mentally disturbed, with great anger and vitriol that can be unleashed without provocation. My dad has little interest in relationships. If it wasn't for my mom, he'd wither away in front of the TV. I know he loves us, but he seems incapable of participating in our lives.
At some point (maybe it's with the safety of my own family with Kevin) I've learned to not take their pains and struggles personally, and let them do what they have to do with no expectation for them to behave according to my theoretical definitions of Brother and Dad. Right now, I'm trying to do that with a Friend. and this Baby. I know it will allow me to enjoy whatever comes along in my life-journey. It's very hard to get to this point. And I know it will be a process I work through my whole life.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
On the job training
For those of you following our potty-training wars, there is great news. Ana is making significant gains in this area...and Mom is too. Two weeks of random chaos has helped me do what I've always known would help: BACK OFF. GIVE HER SPACE AND LOVE. I've been the one in the driver's seat of the potty train for so long, all the time admitting full well that this basic bodily function is the most fundamental means of control small children exert over themselves. The crazy part- I've known that backing off would do just that. I just haven't been able to. Sad, isn't it?
Why is behavior change so damned difficult? Even when we know it's the right, or healthy, or necessary, we resist. I've resisted-- and let my frustration and disappointment become a part of the potty equation.
All I can think now is how sorry I am for not being more objective, and supportive to you, my Ana. And all I can hope for is that I really learn this lesson over the next years, so that when your tendency will be to pull away, and rebel, I am able to see you, and see you struggling, and find patience, and give you the unconditional love that I will always have for you.
There are still potty mishaps, but the war is over. I'm not doing battle over soiled panties and car seats and sofas anymore. I believe in my daughter, and she'll get this. And if she doesn't, that's ok too.
Parenting is so damn hard. How many more mirrors to ourselves can we have in our lives? Marriage itself presents the opportunity and challenge to truly see who we are, and how we communicate, and handle problems, and express and receive love. With parenting, I find the same struggles, as well as removing expectations of what we thought life would be, and enjoy the lessons that our daily lives present. I want to enjoy these lessons, but sometimes feel so overwhelmed with the inconvenience with them(-; That's just hilarious to write. I've heard of school of thought that believes that in the first draft of writing comes the truth. The rest is just B.S. I'm tempted to delete what I just wrote, but I think it's the honest, selfish truth.
God, please give me the patience and love to learn from my daily life. I'm so grateful for all that you've put into it: my beautiful family, my work, my friendships, and community.
Why is behavior change so damned difficult? Even when we know it's the right, or healthy, or necessary, we resist. I've resisted-- and let my frustration and disappointment become a part of the potty equation.
All I can think now is how sorry I am for not being more objective, and supportive to you, my Ana. And all I can hope for is that I really learn this lesson over the next years, so that when your tendency will be to pull away, and rebel, I am able to see you, and see you struggling, and find patience, and give you the unconditional love that I will always have for you.
There are still potty mishaps, but the war is over. I'm not doing battle over soiled panties and car seats and sofas anymore. I believe in my daughter, and she'll get this. And if she doesn't, that's ok too.
Parenting is so damn hard. How many more mirrors to ourselves can we have in our lives? Marriage itself presents the opportunity and challenge to truly see who we are, and how we communicate, and handle problems, and express and receive love. With parenting, I find the same struggles, as well as removing expectations of what we thought life would be, and enjoy the lessons that our daily lives present. I want to enjoy these lessons, but sometimes feel so overwhelmed with the inconvenience with them(-; That's just hilarious to write. I've heard of school of thought that believes that in the first draft of writing comes the truth. The rest is just B.S. I'm tempted to delete what I just wrote, but I think it's the honest, selfish truth.
God, please give me the patience and love to learn from my daily life. I'm so grateful for all that you've put into it: my beautiful family, my work, my friendships, and community.
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