Heaven and Heaven, Too.

HEAVEN......


HEAVEN, TOO.

You like me? Good. You don't? That's fine, too.

My sister came, my mom took her on a tour of our home (very short tour to see it all. ha) and then we went to Hobby Lobby. Sis decided not to make snide comments about me, so she made them about others. First she started on my mom. We were in the check out line, with several other people, and she started talking about how my mom got lost in a store the other day, and couldn't figure out how to find her way to the front. She told it in a long, "this is hilarious, Mom is getting really old" type of way. My mom looked embarrassed at the strangers listening to it. I looked at my mom and said, "I do those same kind of things, Mom, all the time." So my sister took it up a notch and told one that was even more embarrassing, so much so I won't repeat it here.

We went to lunch and she talked about her mother-in-law hiding her teeth in her bra when she took them out in a restaurant (it's an old Southern woman thing--My granny used to hide money there, and I have been known to stash cash there myself). Then she talked about my step-mom and what she hopes to get from the house when they die. She talked about her daughters..it just went on and on.

When she started on Obama, and used the "n" word, I actually spoke up and said, "I don't use that word." My mom looked at me like I had two heads, then collected herself and said, "I guess none of us should." My sister just continued to count my heads.

She also said, "Since you went to college, you talk funny." That was because she said, "I ain't got no reason to put out cabbage plants this year, because mama grows more 'n enough for all of us" and I replied, "I don't have a reason to plant them as long as we have a Krogers." Bad English is common in our family, and anyone who speaks differently is "weird." I admit mine is not perfect, but if you met my family, you would see I've come a long way.

I honestly feel nothing she can say to me at this point is going to affect my opinion of myself, which I guess is what emotionally healthy means. I know I just felt so much better yesterday around her, not having to worry about dodging arrows.
I didn't feel nervous when they were here. I felt comfortable to be myself. If my sister had left and not wanted to come back, I would have been disappointed but it would be fine.

As things are, I think we can see each other and be family, and it will be fine now. I don't have unrealistic expectations, and don't need her approval anymore.

Old Me, New Me

My sister and mother are coming today to visit. I have lived here since March of 2000, and this is the first time my sister has been here to visit. I figure my mom is dragging her here, but well, there ya go. I have been noticing a big difference in the "old me before years of therapy" and the "me now" in how I react to things. The old me would have worried about what she would think about my home, what I was wearing (she has been known to made snide comments in the past about both), etc. The old me would have spent two days cleaning.

But the now me went to play cards all day yesterday at the senior center. The new me got up this morninng and made the beds, dusted the coffee table, and wiped down the toilet in the guest bathroom. I think it looks fine, and the new me cares more about that than what anyone else thinks.
The old me would have picked out her clothes today with the thought in mind of "What will she say about this one? Will she think this is too bright?" The new me thought, I like this shirt, it's comfortable, I'll wear it.

Last week when I went to play cards, one of the ladies asked if I would take over the calling tree for reservations (we have to tell the senior center how many we will have because of the lunch). I hesitated and she was very convincing, so I said ok. I figured I will give it a try, so what. Then later in the week, another lady who also has handled this task called, very upset. Who had given me this to do? Why was it given to me instead of to her? She said, "It's not that I don't think you can do it, it's just that I've done it a long time."

The old me would have thought, Oh my, what's wrong with me, she thinks I can't do this, she doesn't trust me, etc. But the new me said, "I didn't want to do it anyway, so you're welcome to have it. In fact, I'll run the notebook by your house in a few minutes." The old me would have avoided going around that woman again, because I felt insecure and had my feelings hurt. The new me went in yesterday, hugged her, and had a ball playing cards.

One of my children reminded me the other day, when I was whining about them leaving home, that when they were teens, I was so wrapped up with a "idiot man who will remain nameless" that they felt neglected. The old me would have been crushed, and would have immediately tried to justify my bad behavior. The new me thought about it a minute, then said, "You are right. That's how it was. I'm sorry, and I wish I could go back and have that time again." Old me, new me. I made mistakes. I can't change them. I can say I am sorry, and do what I can to do better now. Maya Angelou says, "I did then what I knew. And when I knew better, I did better."

Now you can say what you will about therapy, and I realize I spent boo-koos of money on it, but I got results. It took a long time but I do see the progress. Not only that, but my husband sees it.

We were with some friends the other night, when they brought up the Octomom and how she should have her children all taken away from her. I told you my best friend has a huge family, limited money, etc, so I have a difference perspective on this from most people. I also loved kids and may have had a larger family myself had circumstances been different. So when they said her children should be taken away, I added, "I disagree. I think even though she may have shown bad judgement, she still loves her kids, and her kids love her. To take them away now would only hurt the children by dividing them up with people they don't know. If you took away the kids of everyone who had them and couldn't afford them, over half of the kids in America would be in foster care. You can hate her, but don't take it out on the kids. Give her the help she needs to care for them. That's how I feel."

My husband's mouth fell open, and the ladies (aren't women wonderful to talk to) just jumped in and kept the discussion going, actually considering the children's side of things. When we got home, my husband said, "Not only are you out socially now, but you feel confident enough to offer a differing opinion, even when it may not be popular. I am proud of you."
I'm proud of me, too.

Grouchy as Hell

I should have married a Democrat. If I have to watch another Presidential address with my husband's commentary yelled in the background, I'm going to kill him. I told him tonight he sounds like he's been listening to way too much Limbaugh.

My son in Seattle has not found a job and his funds are running low. He is coming home, and has to drive across the country pulling a U-Haul trailer. So he offered to fly me out if I would ride back with him. I'm going March 24, and we are leaving the 26th coming back. Driving down to San Francisco and then across, due to snow and road closings.

Kindle came out with a second version, announced today. I want one, but I won't get one. I LOVE my Kindle, and at what I paid for the first one, it will have to last awhile. I carry it in my purse all the time, and never get stuck in a waiting room without something to read. If I finish a book, no problem...just start another.
I feel terrible. I have been on the antibiotic for a week now, and although my headaches are gone, I feel like someone ran over me with a truck. My step-mother said antibiotics do her the same way. How can the cure make you feel as bad as the illness? Add to that, I have been having major hot flashes this week, and I've been pretty miserable.

We went to play cards tonight, and some of the ladies wanted the heat turned up. I was about ready to take off my clothes, but decided it would scare too many people.
So yes, I'm burning up, grouchy as hell, and feel like crap. Menopause sucks.

Six Words-- What Are Yours?

HarperCollins has a new book out called "Not Quite What I Was Planning" (I know you should underline books but there is no underline button on this blogger thingie) by Larry Smith, in which people write their life stories in six words. For example, one man wrote, "Seventy years, few tears, hairy ears" which of course, illustrates for us clearly that he has had a long life with a few bumps along the way, yet has managed to keep his sense of humor. I also liked this one, "After Harvard, had baby with crackhead." Whew.
It made me think how I would sum up my life in six words, since I have never been a person of few words. I tend to talk things to death, as my ex-husband once said, and was right.

Maybe I would say something like "Novel Life, Skipping Pages and Skimming."
I feel like no one would believe the things I have experienced in my life, but it would make a great novel, and I've done my share of skipping over things I should have paid attention to, and skimming through parts I should have lingered on.

I also thought of "Rooting for Outcasts, Feel Like One." As the counselor once said, I always have a heart for the victim or black sheep of society. Am I not the one writing to a death row inmate and defending people just because they are attacked by others' comments, even when I feel they may deserve it?

How about "Wife, Mom, Homemaker, Looking for Wings." Even though I am happy with my life, I would always like to do something really important and soar for awhile.

I also like, "Mind Open, Eyes Closed, Charging Ahead." That would explain why I get off on such tangents and hit so many brick walls.

One more, "Chocolate, naps, living the good life."

Now, here is your challenge. Tell me some of yours!