I Think I Can, I Think I Can...Crap, This Is Hard!

I am writing this to distract myself.

Eight or nine years ago, I wanted to lose a little weight.  I tried the South Beach diet, which consists of an initial phase of eating no carbs but for some non-starchy vegetables and then slowly adding “good” carbs back to your diet, and was successful.  I lost my pregnancy weight (and it was about time, as my “baby” was 5 years old), felt better, and truly lost the sweets craving that used to be my health downfall.  I stuck with the maintenance phase easily for years, maintaining both my weight and my health.

Then I turned 40.  About that time, a woman’s hormones get bored and decide to shake things up.  They create havoc and make you do all kinds of strange things.  One of those things is, coincidentally, blaming everything on hormones and taking no responsibility for particular actions, like screaming at the cat for the bell on her collar annoying you while you are consuming an entire chocolate cake.

Recently, when most of my clothes no longer fit me and routine tests revealed my cholesterol had gone up just past the acceptable level, I decided I needed to stop blaming the hormones.  So….I’m on day two of Phase 1 of South Beach, and I am finding myself plotting how to steal the hash browned potatoes and bread from my son’s plate and hide it under the squash and chicken sausage on mine.

Day 1 was not so bad.  I ate cottage cheese, raw veggies and hummus, almonds, and cheddar cheese.  I was full and I was happy and I was proud of myself for taking control of my health.

Today didn’t start so bad either.  This morning I boiled some eggs, making some extra for later in the week, and for lunch I made chicken salad with leftover chicken breast, celery, nuts, and just a smidge of mayo.  I snacked on baby carrots mid-afternoon.  Again, I was feeling good. 

Until about 2 hours ago.

At that point I had an almost uncontrollable urge to eat an entire bag of potato chips.

Instead, I grabbed a few more of those carrots and went outside to finish the Halloween decorations.  That’s when the visions of pasta and bread took over my brain.

I came back in and cooked dinner, trying so hard not to tear just a little bite off the bread or take a bite of potatoes.  I had to walk away and read a little about the benefits of a low carb diet to reinforce myself, and grab some more carrots a couple of times (good thing I stocked up), but I made it through.  I need to wash the dishes though and I’m scared to go back into the kitchen.  I don’t know what I might do.

Oh, no, it just occurred to me I still have to pack my son’s lunch!  This might be too much.

That’s why they have wine.  Too bad I’m not supposed to have any.  Well, maybe one glass wouldn’t hurt….

THIS Is Why They Have Wine!

My day started like a character in the remake of Groundhog Day.  Bright and early at 7:30 am I turned on my computer and logged into work, to start the day exactly as I did yesterday.  There are only so many times you can test the same issues, over, and over, and over, before you go crazy.  After all, they say the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing and expecting a different result.  Hmmm, I just realized I get paid to do that.  So that is why they have me work at home, so no one can hear my screams!

Then, about 9, I left for my physical therapy appointment.  Physical therapy that I do twice a week to try to alleviate the pain from a herniated disk in my back that impinges a nerve and causes not only pain but numbness, pain, and weakness in my right arm and hand.  Physical therapy I go to at a place that is specifically for orthopedic problems, houses doctor’s offices, testing facilities, labs, a surgery center, and of course therapy.  A place where many of the patients are on crutches or in wheelchairs and some too injured to have a hard time just making it through their day.  A place where it took me 20 minutes of driving around the parking lot, over, and over, and over (well, this seems to be my theme) to even get a parking spot, and I made it to my appointment with one minute to spare.

So we’ve gotten to 9:30 am.  People shouldn’t even have to be out of bed that early.

Once in therapy, because I was actually feeling pretty good, they added some weight work to my routine.  And now, well, I no longer feel so good.

After a bit more of my Groundhog Day of work, I went to do school pick up carpool.  In a monsoon.  I literally could not see what was 5 feet in front of me and was saying the same prayer, yes, over and over and over again, that my poor little Mustang would not hit a puddle more than 6 inches high because I did not want it to die, nor did I want to.  It didn’t, and I may have been stressed enough to have caused some of the tight neck muscles I now have, but I’m alive.  This was my day’s highlight.

I finished work and went to empty the litter boxes of our two cats.  I discovered that my son’s cat, whose litter box is in his bedroom, had, well, some stomach issues today and didn’t quite completely make it to the box.  As I was taking the box and the mat outside to wash it, I told my son to get the vacuum and clean up the litter that was on the floor.

“Can you get the vacuum for me?”

What?!  Child, if I have to get the vacuum for you at this moment, I just might smack you upside the head with it.  Teenagers just don’t have any clue when it’s the wrong time to express their teenage attitude, do they?

In the midst of all this, I was making dinner.  I decided to get fancy today and use diced tomatoes in the meatloaf instead of ketchup.  This was not the best idea, and one I’m NOT going to repeat over and over.  Soupy meatloaf isn’t exactly the goal I was striving for.

And this, my friends, this, this is the real reason they have wine.

And very large helpings of mashed potatoes.

 

Island Escape

This past weekend, my husband and I did something we’ve never done:  after two and a half years of marriage, we took a vacation without the child.  Really, he even went on our honeymoon with us, so this was all new territory.

So I did what any woman who has never gone away alone with her husband would do, I Googled “best romantic getaways” and, alas, one of the things I ran across was a bed and breakfast within driving distance, on Amelia Island in Florida.  It was a historic mansion built in the 1800’s, grew their own organic herbs and veggies on property that they used in their food, in the historic district of the island, near the beach, offered a romance package, and, well, they had a wine social every evening at 5:00.  In other words, my idea of heaven.  It was perfect.  For me.  Downside, it was a complete non-smoking property and my husband enjoys his cigars in the evening.  I did my duty and found some other places….the beach, Savannah, St. Augustine, and gave my husband all the details, including the non-smoking bit of info, though I knew that could be a deal breaker on my choice.

And so we decided on Lido Key, on the beach, in a large chain hotel.  Luckily that only lasted about 5 minutes, because I have an amazing husband who knew what my heart was set on.  I made the reservations at the Fairbanks House before I even took a shower the following morning, romance package included of course!

Friday, we headed out on our journey, arriving about 4 hours later at our destination.  It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too humid, a perfect beginning to our weekend.  We entered the wonderfully restored home, cheery and clean but with all those Victorian era touches and décor that transport you to a different time.  Teresa came out and greeted us, and went and got the key for our room, which was actually the attic of one of the three cottages adjacent to the main house.  Our cottage was previously the home of the caretaker of the estate.  As she was ready to walk us out, Bill, her husband, reminded her it was 4:00, time to get ready for the 5:00 hors d’oeuvre and cocktails, and so he walked us to our room.  The cottage had a private porch for our use, with a cat sleeping next to one of the chairs.  I felt right at home.

We entered to a beautiful room, with chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of wine waiting on the counter, a large king bed, and a two-room bathroom which was half the size of our entire suite, containing a huge Jacuzzi tub and Victorian sofa in the first room, and the regular bathroom with shower in the second.

We decided to just hang out in the room for a while, after the long drive, and then attend the 5:00 social hour.  In the meantime, we read the guide to the property, which was written very humorously and was quite entertaining in itself.  I did inform my husband he could smoke his cigar, he would just need to stand on the public sidewalk, and we found that we did have wi-fi, the network was named after the Beatles, and the password was one of their songs….you could guess it or if you gave up you could ask.  My husband insisted on guessing, and, well, we still don’t know the password.  There are a LOT of Beatles songs.

The social hour was well worth our time.  That night only two other couples attended (there are 12 rooms at the B&B), but we had a great conversation.  You had your choice of beers, wines, and  soft drinks, and Teresa had made Florentine toast points, Italian sausage in puff pastry, and cheese and crackers with raspberry chipotle sauce.  I believe I gained 5 pounds in that hour alone.

After dinner, we walked the two blocks to the historic downtown area.  We walked around the shops, one of which I now have memorized after my husband looked at a pair of shoes at least 4 times in our weekend there.  He did not buy them, but upon coming home he immediately looked them up on the internet.  Yeah, I’m not the show person in this house!  We looked for somewhere to eat and found a restaurant a block or so off the beaten path, Cafe Karibo, with an outdoor patio and musicians.  They were busy, full, and had a wait, but for the table directly in front of the band.  We took it, and enjoyed some great food and entertainment.  After dinner, my husband bought me a unique necklace I liked in one of the shops, I believe in his campaign to prove he is the most romantic of the two of us.  (Actually, he is, I’m Miss Practicality, but it’s fun to compete, so don’t tell him I said so.)

Both of us are not anything close to morning people, but we decided to turn in early so we could enjoy breakfast at the house the next morning, served only from 8-9:30.  Coffee, juice, fruit, quiche, scones, sausage were on the menu for the day. We didn’t need lunch later.

After breakfast we walked to the marina downtown, and watched two pods of dolphins swimming very near shore, went in some more shops, including the aforementioned shoe store, ate ice cream and chocolate covered pretzels, and of course in one store I had to buy a book on the hauntings and ghost stories of the area.  I read the entire book while we sat in a cigar lounge (I did my research ahead of time, I take care of my husband!) that afternoon and wrote down all places in walking distance from our accommodations, which was most of them.  It was probably at this point that my husband proved he is the most romantic of the two of us (but, shhh, that is still a secret) because he did not visibly let on that it was a little annoying that the ghost hunting became my obsession for the rest of the day.  Upon returning from the cigar lounge, we did hang out in the room a bit, but then the tour was on and I made him walk with me to all the haunted spots within a few blocks, with plans to visit a few more after dinner as they were near the restaurant we would be eating at that evening. (For my dear friend Rita, that blog is coming next!)

We returned in time for the social hour, um, of course as there was wine, and met some more couples.  In our conversations, we found that two of the women, who had never met, were from the same tiny town in New York and that one of the men was at the Baseball Hall of Fame the same day we were this past summer.  And, believe it or not, that I’m not the only one who found the place by Googling “best romantic getaways!” Such a small world!  I really am not actually usually a small-talk, social type of person, but I really enjoyed the social hours.  It didn’t hurt that we had some wonderful homemade corn and black bean salsa with chips and baked brie with raspberry chipotle sauce to go along with it.

Part of our romance package was a voucher to use for dinner at a one of the local restaurants, and we ate at David’s, a steak house, for which our hosts had made reservations for us and even informed them of my food allergies.  It was a nice atmosphere, great steak, and they finished off by giving us chocolate covered strawberries.  After dinner we looked at the remaining haunted locations on my list, and returned to the room, where there were homemade cookies waiting for us.  Yep, I think I gained another 8-9 pounds that day!

We went out and sat on our porch, and when I posted a few haunted pictures on Facebook, a friend reminded me of my Ghost Radar App.  Yep, I had gone all these places and forgotten to use it, so my poor husband had to watch me play with that for the next few hours!

We slept in the next morning and missed breakfast, though we both wondered what we may have missed out on.  And we both had a wonderful time, and are already thinking about our next adult-only getaway.  Maybe even to the same place, but this time in the main house.

It’s not only a wonderful thing to spend time alone with your spouse, it is necessary.  That’s why they have wine.  And it’s even better served with great food at a great place.

 

It's About Your Child

A few moments after I texted my son’s father that it would be OK if he stayed there this weekend until Monday since school starts on Tuesday, I read a couple of posts online regarding what should the father be responsible for financially.

Everyone has an opinion, but, really, how can any of us give an answer regarding a relationship whose details we know nothing about?  We live in a world where we want everything spelled out for us – what days you see your child, who should pay for a haircut, who should provide insurance, who should pick up a child from school.  And we want someone else to make those decisions and to have them written in stone, or at least on paper that is filed with the court.

Is this really what parenting should be?  It is sad that relationships fall apart, some for very darn good reasons, but should we condemn our children to a life of “But that’s what the paper say?”

I have those papers.  I was required to, had no choice, you get a divorce and have children there has to be an agreement.  Our agreement says my son’s dad gets him every other weekend from Friday after school until Sunday at 6, and for a few hours on Wednesday evening.  There is something about alternating holidays thrown in there too, because it’s really important to drive your child to another town to spend Groundhog Day when the rest of the weekend is designated to you.  I don’t think we’ve ever followed that schedule to the T, not one single week.

According to a majority of people, I should tell my ex that my son can’t stay this weekend till Monday, that it is not in the papers.  Well, that is, unless I’m getting extra child support in return (to cover his costs while he’s not even with me) or an exchange for a particular day or if he pays all the school tuition or sends me on a spa vacation. 

Why?

Child custody is not about you.  It’s not about your ex.  It’s not about a lawyer or a judge or what a bunch of strangers on the internet think.  It’s certainly not about a piece of paper.  It’s about your child.

It is important for my son to spend time with his dad, so I let him go extra days if he chooses.  It’s important for my son to get to baseball practice and games and school and to attend events he wants to go to, so his dad lets him stay home with me when the schedule makes that more conducive.  Sometimes our work schedules make us have to shift things around.  The courts don’t know, we don’t file papers every week to accommodate the schedule.  No one is checking up making sure he is home every Sunday at 6 or that he has left for his dad’s after school.  My ex and I do not owe each other anything for doing what is best for our child.

And I don’t even care about the money.  It’s just money.  I had to convince a judge to order less than the state ordered amount, and I had to fill out a bunch of extra paperwork to do so.  I did so because I want my child to be able to have experiences with his father, for his father to be able to afford a nice place to live and a car to drive and gasoline to get to the places he needs to go without being so stressed out about it he can’t enjoy the time with his child.  I want him to be able to buy him gifts, to take him out to eat.  He occasionally gives me money for extra things, but that is his choice, not something he owes me.  The relationship with his dad is something that has no price.

I made the decision to be responsible for a child the moment I chose to engage in an act that could create one, no matter what might happen in the future.  I chose to put him in private school, I cover the costs.  I chose to let him play travel ball, my financial responsibility too.  I don’t want to make my child miss out on opportunities because his dad may not be able to pay part of it.

If you share a child with someone you no longer have a relationship with, please, make your decisions based on your child.  I know there are some jerks out there that just want to make it hard for their ex’s, and sometimes you have no choice, but if you ARE the jerk parent, I hope you can change for the sake of a much younger person who looks to you for guidance.

Last night when I asked my son if he wanted to stay an extra night at his dad’s, he said he didn’t know what to do because he didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.  I questioned him on who he thought he was hurting, and he was afraid his dad would be upset if he stayed home, or his stepdad would be if he went.  (My feelings, he’s good with those being hurt, apparently!)  I explained to him that we are grown ups, it’s not about us, and if our feelings our hurt that is something WE need to get over because he is not responsible for how we feel. 

If he was feeling that way when we allow him to make choices and focus on him, imagine how a child feels who has to do whatever the paper says, no matter what.  They don't need added stress.

My son chose to go to his dad’s, and told me he loved me, and added that I should be happy I was getting rid of him.  I’m not.  Well, maybe for a couple hours.  He knows I’m just happy if he is.

That’s why they have wine.

The Devastation We Pretend Doesn't Exist

The death of Robin Williams is sad, very sad.  But I’m having trouble getting past my anger to feel anything but annoyance with everyone talking about it as if it is something new and unique.

Were you this upset when the mom down the street committed suicide?  The teenager at your child’s school?  When your spouse or your child or the clerk you see every week at the grocery store is feeling hopeless and full of despair?

Depression is very common, but we don’t like to talk about it.  Why?  Are we afraid to think it could happen to us?  Or even worse, afraid to admit it HAS happened to us?

Robin Williams feeling so low that he thought it was better to end his life is awful. It’s unbelievable.  It’s heartbreaking.  But it is also just as devastating when it happens to anyone else.  It’s also something that can be helped, and we need to educate ourselves about the true illness that it is.  It is not a character weakness, a personality flaw, a reason to look down upon someone.

It is a disease, just like diabetes or cancer or hypothyroidism or asthma or the multitudes of other physical things we accept as being something a person has, rather than something that defines a person.   Just like a cancer patient needs support and sometimes assistance from loved ones (and even strangers), so does that person with Depression.  There are treatments, but many times people are afraid to admit they need them.  That fear is often because they also fear being ostracized, discriminated against, or even just talked about.  That doesn’t happen to someone with diabetes, should it happen to someone with depression?

In my family, there are a lot of those diagnoses that get talked about.  There is Autism, ADHD, Alcoholism/Addiction, Downs Syndrome, Depression, Anxiety Disorder, Social Phobia.  And those last three are mine.  Years ago I took medication and had regular therapy, which I felt I had to hide because I was a mental health professional and rather than people thinking that might give me some insight, they were more inclined to think I was unfit to do my job.  That treatment, however, along with some amazing supportive friends and the birth of my child who gives me purpose, was lifesaving, and I have learned ways to overcome the symptoms and no longer need active treatment.  I still have a hard time making myself get involved in social situations, and stress over things way more than the average person, and  I’ve had some setbacks, particularly when the youth pastor I worked closely at church died suddenly and when my dad died, but I’ve been able to make it through.  I have been fortunate to have supportive people around me, and to have a stubborn attitude when there are those who aren’t, but not everyone has that.

So be one.  Be that person that someone might need.  Educate yourself.  Understand.  Care.  Love. Support.

That’s why they have wine.  Cheers, Robin, now that your illness can no longer affect you, I hope you can see the amazing person you are.  I hope we can all see the amazing person that we are.

So, What Is Human Life?

So, what is a human life? 

Who decides?

In the United States, legally, it’s the choice of the mother.  I use the term “mother” because, well, that is what they are.  The female participant in the creation of a fertilized egg, a fetus, a BABY.  The terminology really doesn’t make a difference. 

Well, not really, but we seem to interchange terms anyways, using “baby” when it is wanted, and “fetus” when it is not.

I’ve shared my story here on this blog.  I had no intentions of being a parent.  I cried when I found out I was pregnant.  Pregnant.  With something that was developing into a fully developed human being.  Not a puppy, not a tadpole, not a non-living blob of tissue.  A child.

Luckily for the amazing kid sitting in the next room watching ESPN trying to verify if my favorite baseball player has been traded or not, I never felt like my life was more important than his.  I still don’t.  He may not always be the easiest kid to raise, he costs me lots of money, he has issues which require medical specialists and educational accommodations, he can drive me absolutely crazy (and enjoy doing it) and, well, I may just not have enough patience to be the greatest Mom in the world, but I am responsible for him.  I have been since the moment he was conceived.  There was no other “choice,” that is just how it was.  I created a human being, and it is my job to help make him the best human being he can be.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of amazing kids the world never got to know. There are kids whose father’s may have wanted them, but who did not have a say in their fate.  Here, in the US, you will be lambasted as being irresponsible and uncaring and just plain scum by people for taking your dog or cat to the Humane Society because you cannot care for them, but celebrated, many times by the same individuals, if you choose not to carry your human child to term.  If a third person harms a child in the womb, they are charged with murder, but if the mother does it, she is just taking control of her body.

My heart bleeds for all those children who never got their chance.

And that’s why they have wine.

The Unintentional Head Spinning Properties of Viagra

I just have to say this because it has made the Sheldon Cooper side of my personality come out…. If you want to have a meaningful argument, PLEASE use an apples to apples comparison, it can get hard to get past it otherwise.

Viagra is a medication that is taken to help someone, usually an “older” man, to be able to perform the necessary bodily functions to HAVE sex.  Birth control is not necessary to having sex, the purpose is 1. To prevent an unintended consequence of sex in “younger” women, being pregnancy or 2. To regulate complications from a hormonal imbalance, etc.  (I've used it for both.)  They don’t serve the same functions.  Birth control for women is comparable, well, to birth control for men, otherwise known as condoms or a vasectomy.  Birth control as a hormonal regulator is comparable to hormones, such as testosterone injections, in men.

Viagra for men is comparable to hormone replacement therapy for “older” women (and I use that term loosely because I am menopausal and have a prescription for HRT!), both of which help the body to perform functions necessary to have sexual relations.  Though both of these medicines may have other effects, if you want to compare medications for males vs. females, they are the most similar.

If you want to argue that condoms should be free to men if birth control is free to women through insurance, and vice versa, I’m right on board with you.

If you want to argue that hormone replacement therapy should be covered at the same rate as Viagra, I’m right on board with you there too.

If you want to argue that the second reason for birth control should be considered medically necessary and covered, I'm down with that too, but for some reason that rarely gets mentioned.

The real issue that the Supreme Court decided on today comes down to money.  No one has lost their right to have sex, no one has lost their right to use birth control, both sentiments of which I've seen posted all over the internet today.  Some people might have to pay for it out of their own pockets, that is all.  Not an unheard of concept with other things insurance may or may not cover. 

Ever known someone who was allergic to several classes of antibiotics?  You sure?  Well, just in case, I’ll tell you about it because I’ve been familiar with it my whole life…my mom, sister, and I all have antibiotic allergies.  If I get a strain of strep throat or a sinus infection that does not respond to a Z-Pac, I’m out hundreds of dollars for 10 days worth of medications that could potentially save my life because all that will work that I can take is not a “formulary” medication.  It has been that way all my life.  It’s just how it is, and it’s something I’m willing to pay for because it is a priority to me.  Would I love if all my antibiotics in my lifetime were free?  Heck yeah!  Do I think that the rest of the world who does not have antibiotic allergies is discriminating against me and hates me and is just trying to keep me down in society?  Hmm, let me think about this…NO!  Do I have the choice to work for an employer that provides insurance that covers all antibiotics?  Yes, I do, but I’ll never find one, unlike those who find it important to have birth control covered.

Have you ever had trouble filling your birth control prescription because a pharmacy has reached their legal dispensing amount of it or been required to drive to the doctor’s office each month to pick up a paper copy each and every month so you can get it filled, and then have to have the prescription reported to the DEA?  No?  Well thousands of kids with neurological disorders do, you can read my past blog posts if you want to know the frustrating details.

In other parts of the world women aren’t allowed to drive cars, are stoned to death, are only allowed to have one child, are not allowed an education.  In THIS country women are raped, abused, intimidated, and looked at as sexual objects.  Can we put as much passion into those issues as we do about having to pay for readily accessible birth control?

Insurance covering birth control is not what is going to help all of the above problems. I know this is not what the popular opinion among many women is, and that those that hold my opinion are often called names and no one even wants to understand what we are saying, but that doesn’t change what I think.  I do think that there is so much positive energy that could be used in other women’s causes, and other “unfair” causes in general, instead of all focusing on this one.

Life is such a bigger picture.

And that’s why they have wine.