Crabby Time Crabbiness

In a perfect world __________________, and we would all be happy.

How many different ways can you fill in that blank? I have several. Today I am suffering with "crabby time crabbiness" (CTC). This was an affliction that my children were plagued with from birth to age five between the hours of 4-6 pm, everyday. It was just a bad time of day. I made up a cutesy name for something that was far from cute. Adult cases of CTC seem to be caused by environmental things, and have no particular time of day that the CTC sets in. My case of CTC seems to have flared at 8am today. It was externally set upon me. So instead of letting the CTC take over my day, I am going to share all the simple, and not so simple things that would happen (or not happen) in my perfect world.

In a perfect world...

• cancer would not even be a thing
• people would use "please" and "thank you" with all requests
• everyone would plan ahead and not create "emergencies" for others
• other people's actions would not effect my mood
• dogs would let themselves outside, and not desperately stare at you
• dinner would make itself
• everyone would love every dinner
• no one would sweat the small stuff
• everyone would be content with what they have
• people would celebrate other's success
• jerks would be all banned to one central area away from non-jerks
• every sandwich would taste like someone else made it, even if you made it yourself
• coffee would always be the right temperature
• the litter box would self-clean (just like the cat)
• dessert would not induce guilt
• crabby time crabbiness would not exist

                                                                        ...and we would all be happy.

Oddly, just making that list has made me feel better. It gave me an attitude adjustment. Some the items are so minor, and some are monumental. Sometimes making a list helps focus what we can, and can not change.

Make your list.
Evaluate it.
Come to terms with things you can not change.
Focus on the things that you can fix.

And always, everyday, count your blessings. Blessings always outnumber annoyances.

Under Construction: the teen years

Betsy, my sister, and I were recently having a conversation, and then an e-mail exchange about a teen situation with my daughter.  My maternal confidentiality code keeps me from elaborating too much, but it is a typical teen thing.  Nothing dangerous.  Nothing that a few years, some red wine (for me, not my child), and many more sister talks will not remedy.  One of my responses to my very wise social worker sister, was that it seems my daughter is under construction right now.  Everything is messy, loud, and the dust gets kicked up, but when the construction is done, she is going to be really something magnificent.  However, right now I am living in a construction zone.  And the contractor is taking His sweet time getting the project done.  Okay, I know everything good is worth the wait.  I am not wishing time away.  I am not.  It just gets tough living with a teen.  They are irritable, hormonal, and often confrontational.  They can also be sweet, generous, kind, and compassionate.  The trick is figuring out who is coming out of that ransacked room on any given morning.  Or who will walk back in the front door after school.  It is impossible to know.  It could be an angel, or it could be the anti-Christ.  (I exaggerate, because I can, and the other "a" word I was thinking of was not much better).  Either way she is my child and I love her.

I love her smile, and her frown.
I love her hopefulness, and her despair.
I love her laughter, and her tears.
I love her joyful shouts, and her angry rants.

Some say I have to because I am her mother, it is my job.  Even on the days when it feels like I am parenting two of her, the "good one" and the Incredible Hulk.  It will all pass.  She is learning how to navigate the world with more independence.  Sometimes it is awesome, sometimes it is awesomely frustrating.  I get it.  I have been there.  In many ways I am just as frustrated.  I want to have bouts of tears, and yell too.  I want to fix the problems. I want to tell her how to do everything so it will work out.  I can't,  because then she will never figure out that she has the solution to problems, the big ones and the small ones.  It is my job to keep my cool, and drop casual advice (like clues for a scavenger hunt, just enough to get her in the right direction, but not solving the riddles completely)   When dealing with teens it is best to stay calm, even if it is a false calm at times.  Many days are "fake it 'til you make it" around here.

It would be cruel to use the words "hot mess" to describe this phase of human development, but sometimes the truth hurts.  Most of us grow out our hot messiness.  Sure, there are some people that are still living the drama of the hot mess life, I am not going let my daughter be that person.  I will tolerate her dust, and the commotion caused by her growing into who she is meant to be.  I will also appreciate and celebrate all of the beautiful milestones and achievements the next few years will bring.  Taking the good with the bad.

She is under construction, pardon the dust.

Back to School: Smooth Criminal Edition

We are all back to school here.  My daughter started high school.  My son is in fourth grade.  I am enrolled in online traffic school.  You know a typical day in the life of a smooth criminal.  I did not choose the life, it chose me.  Actually, I am not sure that being a chronic lead foot makes me an actual criminal.  It certainly makes me a scofflaw.  It also make me a poor example for my kids who now monitor my speed as if I just learned to drive yesterday.  Perhaps if my parents had corrected my "speedy queen" tendencies from an early age I would not be a 40 year woman enrolled in online traffic school to keep the points from being reported.  No, I am not going blame my parents, but my dad would say things like, "Give her some gas, we don't have all day" (Technically, we probably did have all day.  We lived a rather bucolic little town where not much happened.  Clearly, a breeding ground for young speed demons.).  He would also encourage passing the elderly in their long, slow sedans, once again because we did not have all day (and it turns out we did).  Okay, so I am going to blame my dad a little for my need for speed.  However, he does not read this, or even go on computers.  (Very funny aside, relating to nothing other than poking fun at my dad.  My daughter sent him a text, and he thought it broke his phone because he could not get the words off the screen for 5 minutes.)  And to be completely contrary to societal norms, I do not blame my mother at all for my descent into a life of civil infractions.  Sorry Mom, like I said earlier, the life chose me!

Back Story: Rule 4 in Action

Rule 4 for Being Human is "The lesson is repeated until learned".  (If you are not familiar with The Rules of Being Human click here).  Anyway, back in August my daughter needed to get to a clarinet sectional practice.  I am obsessed with being on time. In fact, if I am not 5 minutes early...I feel late.  Yes, it is a bit OCD (I own that).  Anyway, in my quest for her to be on time, which my OCD said needed to be five minutes early, I was driving too fast through a known speed trap. POP. Ticket. Online Traffic School.  How did I know it was speed trap?  I was pulled over in the same place several years ago.  I also see people pulled over there all the time (It is the road I travel to get to my daughter's school and my local Target).  So I knew better.  My beloved pointed out all of these things to me.  I know, but I did not choose the fast  life, the fast life chose me!  And the universe was going keep teaching me about speeding until I learned.

The worst part was not getting a ticket.  I deserved it.  This was not my most deserving act of speeding...I have gone much faster.  No, the worst part was after I finally dropped my daughter off (seven minutes late), my son said, "You were not going as fast as could have been going".
At that point he truly believed some great injustice had been done to his mom.  He did not see me as deserving of a traffic citation.  He did not want me punished.  He even said. "You are a good fast driver".
Thank you son, I am a good fast driver.  And I am still in the wrong.  Worse than that, I am a bad role model .  Rules are rules.  Rules have consequences.  In the past I have written letters to get out of tickets, or had them changed to a non-moving violation.  Basically, weaseling out of what I actually did wrong.  I knew this time I needed to accept what I did. I have accepted the actual consequences for my crime.  I paid the fine, and now I am taking a class to learn why my "good fast driving" is not as good as I believed.

My son went with me to the courthouse to pay my ticket.  He asked me if I was mad at the police now.  (after randomly recalling a song from my youth by the gangster rap group NWA...which is entirely inappropriate)  I told him I was the one that messed up, the policeman was just doing his job.  It was in the parking lot of the courthouse that my son said he would make sure I never "speeded" again.  Now I have a 9 year old parole officer.  I report to him daily, and do his laundry.

Online Traffic School

This time I may actually learn that speeding is wrong, because paying the money was easy, but taking an online class is a mild form of torture.  The course is a mandatory four hours.  It has sections that you read, and then answer 10 questions.  No big deal.  However, it is all timed.  If your read the section in 10 minutes, and the program allotted 30 minutes for that section, you have to go back and review the reading (or file your nails) for 20 more minutes until the questions pop up.  It also has these alarming yellow flashing boxes that pop up randomly with questions you need to answer within 10 seconds to prove you are indeed in front of your computer and not taking a shower, vacuuming, or doing much of anything else.  It turns out this fast driver is also a fast reader.  I could have opted to take an actual class in a classroom that lasted 4 hours.  I am pretty sure that would have killed me, or at least killed my spirit.  Online I can do a section, take a break, and go back.  As long as I finish before October 24, and pass the test with 70% correct answers.  Just so you know, my competitive nature will not let me get a 70%.  I have thus far earned 100% on all of my modules.  In a classroom setting it would have been fun to waive around a few 100% tests (that is the only upside of having actual classmates).  I did not choose the nerd life either...(it chose me).

Reforming

Honestly, for the first time in all of my driving years, which is many.  I am obeying speed limits.  Not because I particularly think that they are right, but because it is a law.  We live in a society that needs laws to keep good order.  Now it is about being a good example for my kids.  I want them to be be good drivers someday, and I am their primary example of driving, so I need to make it good and lawful.  (Yes, my beloved drives them places, but not as much as I do)  I want to be good role model.

Now back to my Traffic School Modules...

Wicked Wednesday: Anger Management Edition

Anger is a secondary emotion.  Any therapist worth their weight is salt will tell you anger is a result of frustration, sadness, helplessness, or hopelessness.  They may add more primary emotions that cause people to act out in an angry way.  I have only been a student in a few psychology and sociology classes, not an expert by any stretch of the imagination.  Yes, I give solicited and unsolicited mental health evaluations of people...all the time.  It is what I do, and no one stops me.  I also offer the disclaimer that my opinions are not, and should never be taken as, actual medical advise.  I am all for people going to get some counseling, some people need lots of it.  I have a mental list of people I have encountered that should probably NEVER leave counseling.  They need to be in the care of a doctor or licensed therapist forever...and maybe a day after that too.  My first clue that someone needs to get some help is usually their inappropriate and misplaced anger.  The person that is always sniping at their significant other .  Yelling at their kids.  Getting rude with customer service people (This is the worst.  Imagine becoming so sick with your anger problems that you will take it out on strangers?)  Hideous. Generally, those people that are walking about with the misplaced belief that the world is against them and they are mega pissed off out it.  News Flash: The world is neither for, or against, anyone.  I can not solve anger issues.  I can give no suggestions that make an angry person less angry.  In fact, trying to convince an angry person that they need help, or they need to focus on what is good in life, really only refocuses the anger. (mostly on the person that just suggested they had anger problems)  I do not like being the target of refocused anger.

It is frustrating seeing so much anger in the general population, especially angry children (yes, there are angry children.  It is sad and separate issue).  Yes, we all need to blow off steam and vent frustration.  That is normal.  Finding a safe and healthy way to do that is important.  Sure going out with friends and having some drinks can help, but it could also set up using substances to cover problems.  I do like a good night out, but this is a "use sparingly" solution. I personally enjoy writing my rants down, sometimes I even publish the rants (if it is funny or universally helpful it is generally worth airing my dirty laundry).  Writing helps lay out exactly what bothers me, literally in black and white).  Sometimes it becomes clear that whatever is bothering me is just ridiculous, which is fine, because then I know and I get over it.  Often it helps me profile a situation that I need to either get out of or redefine how I am going to deal with the situation going forward.  Yes, this is my personal anger management style.  Anger happens, but you can not let it consume you, then you become wicked. (the bad kind, the green faced, flying monkey kind of wicked)  Some people use other hobbies to get their minds off angry thoughts and feelings.  Some people exercise to sweat out the negativity.  At times I find this helpful, and the sore muscles give me a sense that I really worked something out.

There are many ways to reduce or eliminate anger.  The best advice ever given to me is from my mother, THIS TOO SHALL PASS.  No, she is not the first person to have ever said those words, but she said them often to me when I was young.  Guess what? 100% of the time this is true.  There is no sense in being an angry jerk.  It helps nothing, solves nothing, and likely cause more issues.  It will all pass.  Life has a funny way of resolving itself.  Give up the anger.  Live. Love. Laugh.

(This post is pretty much proof that  most all the time my writing surprises me.  I really did mean to write a scathingly wicked post about angry jerks, yet somewhere in the process I heard my mom's voice in my head reminding me more of kindness.  She is a gem.  I need to write about her...she is a smart, kind and sassy woman.  She also just totally squashed my Wicked Wednesday post.  Mothers!!!)

Resolutions are for Chumps

The title says it all, resolutions are for chumps.  It has taken me many years to realize this particular fact.  I can be a little slow to catch on sometimes, but never with witty comeback.  I do plan on making some changes in 2013, tweaking my lifestyle, cleaning up, throwing out, eating less, moving more...all the good stuff.  However, I refuse to call any of it a "resolution" because as soon as I do it will become a point of rebellion.  Yes, I am even a petulant child with myself (I am sure this fact is of great comfort and humor to my parents).  No one likes to hear "no" or "you can not" or "you should not" or "you must" and the worst "it is good for you".  All of these things cause a rebellion in my soul.  I do not need my soul to rebel.  Along with the rebellion in the soul, is the fact that falling off the resolution wagon makes people stop making progress.  I say so what if you mess up, start over again.  In the past I have set dates for areas to be cleaned, pounds to be lost, and other goals, and when the goal was not achieved said, "Suck it. I am done", and then was completely annoyed and mad at myself.  Thus leaving a half cleaned out closet, and frustration.  No more big plan.  No more dates.  I am just doing.  I fully accept that I am going to make poor choices, slack off, and be human.  I am cool with that, and I will keep plugging away and making progress.

Perhaps mostly I am learning about being forgiving of myself.  Actually allowing myself to be human.  It is amazing how cruel we can be to ourselves.  How harshly we judge ourselves.  It sets us back when we beat ourselves up constantly over little things.  If  I was as cruel to others as I have been to myself I would not have a friend in the whole world, or a husband, or custody of my children.  I admit I have been a beast to myself.   My inner voice (and we all have one, do not call me crazy) has at times been a soul crusher.  Yes, I have crushed my own soul far more than any other person ever has, or ever could.  That is a rather sickening  realization.  However, I do not think I am unique in this self inflicted agony.  We are brutal to ourselves, too brutal.  Self-kindness is a relatively new concept for me, perhaps something that has evolved over the past five or six years.  And I am still rather imperfect at the whole self-kindness thing too, but I am not giving up on being nice to me.  My inner voice is far more kind than it ever was in my 20's, and let us not even talk about what a bitch my teen inner voice was (UGH!).  Resolutions just give my inner voice food for negativity.  Accomplishing things in real time, whether it is a blog post, or laundry, or a good book, or a long walk, or playing a game with my kids, is far more important, fulfilling, meaningful, and soul building than tasks checked off a time tabled chart.  Sure, goals are necessary at times, but not when they become internal weapons of soul destruction when the standards are not met.  Never give up on being nice to yourself...and if resolutions make you feel like a failure, remember, resolutions are for chumps, and you are no chump.

And, sincere apologies for not bringing the lighthearted funny today, sometimes a girl needs to be serious. It is okay to have feelings and feel those feelings...no matter what your therapist says.  And bonus, you learned I am human and not just a snark machine.        

All Kinds of Blindness

Last night I was watching 60 Minutes, yes the durable television news show, and no, I did not then look for Murder She Wrote reruns to watch afterward, (but I thought about it).  First of all I love 60 Minutes, always have, even as a child.  This fact has nothing to do with my topic today, but I feel it necessary to let you know that if it is covered on 60 Minutes, it is relevant to me.  I also miss Andy Rooney, and felt like he was own crabby granddad (he was not).

Anyway, the wonderful Leslie Stahl did a piece on Face Blindness.  What?  Yes, some people can not visually discern between faces.  Even the faces of their own family members.  All faces just look like eyes, nose, and mouth.  Facial features between people are indistinguishable to those afflicted with face blindness.  This seemed so amazingly odd to me.  All the people that were interviewed for this piece were of normal (and a few of extremely high) intelligence, and had successful careers.  Some had families, one woman could not identify a picture of her own daughter's face.  Really these were regular people that can not recognize faces.  This was simply astonishing to me.  These people rely on voice, body shape, and other features to identify people.  So the changing of a hair color or style, could result in a face blind person not recognizing you at all, even if it is a close co-worker or spouse or sibling.  The kicker...most of these people did not realize they had an issue recognizing faces until adulthood.  They all admitted they were always challenged in social situations, but had (and still have) no idea what they are missing.

My son is colorblind.  It is a genetic trait so he always was and will see color in a way that most of the population will never understand.  Yes, most colorblind people can see color, but differently, a bit more muted in shading.  Their world is not black and white. Complete color blindness does exist, but is very uncommon. Honestly, I did not have confirmation that my little guy was colorblind until a year ago.  All through pre-school and kindergarten he identified colors on all assessment with no concerns mentioned by his teachers.  Looking back, this is pretty amazing because some shades of greens, blues, purples, and grays are all very similar for him.  He compensates by memorizing shadings and having reference items for colors.  It is quite amazing that at seven years old he does this.  Then I remember, that is all he knows.  He has no idea what he is not seeing.  I only know from doing some research how he does see things, but only in a very limited way.

 Normal color vision seeing
 rainbow colors.

 My son seeing rainbow colors with his
type of color deficiency.

These are the rainbow color pictures that I  found most helpful in understanding red/green color deficiency.  Which is my son's type.  There are several types of color deficiency.  Selfishly, I only care about the one that effects him.  Mostly because I have to help him in some situations.  I am completely amazed that we had no idea.  It really shows how much people can compensate for conditions.  I also feel sad when I look at the two different pictures of a rainbow, because I can see how many colors he will never see.  However, as I said before, he does not know, he will never know.  FYI, his favorite color is blue, which is cool because know we are seeing the same thing.

These two examples of blindness, that those afflicted have no idea what they are missing, remind me that we all have blindness in our life.  Most of our blindness can not be diagnosed by doctors like face blindness and colorblindness. Some people are blind to other people's feelings, some are blind to bad relationship patterns,  some are blind to their own ignorance.  We all are a blind in some way.  Perhaps going through our whole lives not knowing what we are missing and not seeing.  Sometimes this is good, sometimes it is bad.  I know that my son's color blindness has helped me understand him in a different way.  I admire how hard he has to work to compensate, and he has no idea.  My spouse often puts things in perspective for me at by saying, "You know, sometimes we don't know, what we don't know".  And I guess that statement covers all kinds of blindness.

Five for Friday

Ahhhh, Friday.  The day that this particular blogger's thoughts turn to the weekend family fun, a possible nap, and boxed red wine.  It also means I can produce five disjointed thoughts into one semi-cohesive blog entry.  I love randomness.  It may be one of my favorite things.

1. I wish there was summer camp for adults.  Swimming, hiking, arts & crafts, singing, campfires, and staying up giggling until the crabby camper yells and makes people shut up. (There is always a crabby camper, they have grown up and now work at the post office or the DMV).  I envy my children heading off for various camps this summer.  I know I had my time.  I just want to do it again, as an older and wiser camper.  My lanyards would have so much more artistic integrity now.
2. Taco Bell is gross.  I am in the minority in my family, and perhaps the whole world, in not liking the faux Mexican food. I lose the battle of where to stop for food on road trips because we are far too democratic for my liking.  I have learned that the bean burrito is the least offensive item on the menu.  In college I was also the lone inebriated person that did not want to indulge in a "run for the border".  As my fellow revelers consumed tacos by the dozen, I would eat crackers and pretzels or just go to bed.
3. We had a beautiful, windy, 60 degree day  on Wednesday.  This day brought all the neighborhood kids outside to ride bikes, kick soccer balls, and just be kids.  I took the opportunity to open up both sliding doors on the mini-van and clean it out.  (I know. I am too much fun.  I should dial it back a bit).  Anyway, the van is cleaned and vacuumed.  When I hopped in my sweet ride on Thursday I had forgotten about the cleaning.  It was like a surprise party.  No joke, I was thrilled with the clean floor mats and lack of debris.  Who knew a person could surprise themselves?
4. The Big Bang Theory, to say I love this show is a gross understatement.  The writing on this sitcom is so insanely amazing it makes me sick.  Who would think a show about university researchers could be so funny?  I do not understand what they do, all that science and theory and numbers.  Turns out it does not matter.  If you do not watch this show, give a chance.  It is a delight.
5. Chicken Shwarma.  I have said it before, I will say it again.  I LOVE IT.  Sadly, chicken shwarma is not a food I can successfully prepare at home.  The pita bread, the seasoned chicken, the pickles, and the garlic sauce are just not ingredients I can properly do justice with at home.  There are two restaurants in the area that make slam dunk, perfect shwarmas.  I also do not eat it alone.  It is a food of friendship and sharing.  Okay, I do not share the shwarma in the way of a split order, but I do need to have someone with me to eat it.  This is the only food that I refuse to consume alone.  Why?  I am not entirely sure.  It is just a food that needs to be eaten with a friend.  That being said, I have not had any shwarma in 2012.  It is time for me to drum up some lunch buddies. Or change my silly rule  

All the best for a great weekend!

Live. Laugh. Love. 

Power of Postive Monday

Last Monday my wonderful sister, Betsy, posted on her social media outlet that she was "keeping it positive on Monday". That is a paraphrase, but let us all agree that the first day of the work week is a challenge for many of us. We are not little rays of sunshine. We do not arise from bed doing cartwheels and joyful dance routines. If you say you do, I may call you a dirty, filthy liar. All last week I thought about being more positive about Monday. I decided this week I would be painfully optimistic when my alarm jolted me from bed at 5:45am. I indeed did feel cheery, tired, but cheery as I let the dog out, started the coffee, and commenced the morning routine. My daughter was her usual bleary eyed, slightly surly self, and I embraced that. I took the growled answers to questions in stride. She is not allowed to have two or three cups of coffee, so of course she is not as conversational as I am. Who could be? My spouse, who is allowed to drink all the coffee he wants was not buying into positive attitude Monday. It is my social experiment, not theirs. So I had two gloomy people, and yet my good cheer persisted. I was starting to think that I was on my way to being Little Miss Sunshine, and it was not even 7am! Then my favorite morning show started. I start everyday with Good Morning America. It is just what I do. I get to make lunches, ready others, and myself for the day with GMA as my background. It works. Well, today it was all about a recently deceased musician, who will remain nameless. (You know who it is). This was a direct challenge to my "stay positive" pledge. Why you ask? Here is why. Lots of people die everyday. If we as a society hype one person's demise more than another then the news would be a constant running obituary. Wouldn't that be a downer? Death is part of life. Certainly anyone who died this past weekend will be missed by their loved ones. Yes, tell us on the news of a notable person's death, but do not let it hijack the whole program. So that challenged me. I did complain, briefly, to a friend. Then I moved on with my positive day. (Face it, I was already impressed that everyone got to work and school and I had been painfully upbeat. I was already winning. One small complaint was not tarnishing my day, in my opinion) All was going well with my day. Being positive, productive, and kind. Then 5:00pm hit, and the universe attacked. First, my lovely dog stole and chewed up a tax document. She NEVER eats paper. She steals stuffed animals from the kids, but she does not eat paper. She does not even chew the stuffed animals, just kidnaps them into the back of her crate. Today, of all days, she decides to start eating paper. Nice. Why not just some junk mail? Do tax documents just taste better? So I flipped out. Not incredibly positive. However what happened next made the tax document situation seem very small. I noticed the message light flashing on the home phone. I am very bad at checking the messages on the land line. If you want to talk to me text me or leave a voicemail on my mobile. Anyway, I listened to the message. It was from 3:30 pm today. Cool, at least it was somewhat current. It was Chase fraud protection. Never cool. The whole please call us as soon as possible. Very not cool. So I write down the number and call. My chest had tightened and I felt like vomiting, this is never good. I am very intuitive. My bad feelings are seldom wrong. Yikes! I spoke with the nicest woman who informed me of several attempted charges on my account from yesterday and today. Charges in Texas, New York, Rhode Island, New Jersey, and one from Michigan. Nothing I had charged. I had the horrible cold sweat rolling down my back, and my pits (your welcome for the TMI). The list was extensive. I am the only one on this card. There is only one card. I was holding it in my sweaty hand. I was about to flip out. Then the lovely woman on the other end of the phone said, "Well, we are just going close this card. Since you have our fraud protection, you will incur none of these charges." Positivity restored. This amazing woman then explained the process, the papers I will get, several other things I need to do. All very doable things. Sure it is a bit of a time inconvenience, but not as bad as taking a financial hit for some crummy criminal. Yes, I am really upset that some people steal. The places that this person attempted to use my card were not places that supply people's needed items. The places were all hotels, and stores that supply "wants". It is just so far from anything I would ever do. I know I am a total stranger to whomever did this. I am just 16 digits that could get them stuff. It is sad that the world has people that are so void of values. I am glad I am not none of them. I am glad I have family and friends that would never stoop to such levels. I am also glad that I have fraud protection on my credit cards and that it really works. I am also glad I can find so much positive in a pretty negative experience. Next Monday I will also choose to positive. I just hope the universe does not read my blog or social media posts if I decide to go public with my unflappable cheery outlook.