Asian hint

I saw Kung Fu Panda 2 a coupla days ago.  I saw The Hangover 2 the day before that.  Seems there is not only a "2" theme going on but also a theme that takes me to Asia. And with all these Buddhist concepts going around in my brain, and having watched my kids do karate and thinking perhaps I might like to do karate as well, and having had Udon for lunch and seeing some dude standing at a street corner listening to music on an electronic device of some kind and dancing REALLY badly- I think there might be a divine message there.  Dance like nobody is watching..wasn't that Mark Twain?  What does Asia have to do with that? Nothing. Just thought I'd throw it in there.

I keep thinking about a passage I read about in Syvia Boorstein's book. She talks about a someone she knew who was very calm in the hospital and when asked how she could be so calm her reply was basically, "Why get upset? Who is that going to help?" Whenever Sam has had to go into surgery he has always had a serenity about him. He will wave and smile, he will joke with the nurses. There isn't much he can do at that moment so he just accepts it and doesn't worry anyone. I could add something from Kung Fu Panda but I doubt ANYONE would be able to take me seriously if I did. But in a nutshell, even in the face of pain one can find inner peace and with inner peace one is stronger.
So am I to start drowning myself in Calgon?

Holding

It has been a while. And in a while a lot can happen. I am so busy with just LIFE, that my midlife crisis has been put on hold- Good thing? Dunno? Bad thing? Also dunno.
So in my life I deal with alot of hard stuff. My husband and I have been having "issues" but the kind of issues that not many can boast of.  I love my husband. I love him to my very core.  This isn't the issue.  The issue is that my beloved husband had a brain hemorrhage years n' years ago and there are many ongoing health issues that sometimes wear me out.  At first I was indestructible.  The second year we were together Sam ended up in the hospital with a broken shunt. The thing had dislodged itself and fell into his stomach. At the time I didn't know what the signs of hydrocephalus were, but when Sam was up in the middle of the night mumbling about his ex wife, talking about a 25' long leisure suit and looking for a toothbrush in my closet, I was pretty sure something wasn't right. At 4am I took him to the emergency room, had him transferred to UCLA Westwood because that is where the best neurology department is and then dealt with a basically comatose Sam for 5 days in ICU. After that I dealt with getting Medicaid because we had no health insurance. It all sounds complicated and very emotionally draining but at the time it wasn't.  I did it happily, with patience, tolerance and love.  Sam was okay after this episode. And when it happened again about 8 years later, I was still able to be strong and resilient. By this time we were married and had a child.  I remember the day I decided he needed to go in- I remembered that the first time his gaze got funny. He didn't look straight at me but instead his focus was shifted slightly right. He was tired and the water build up on his brain was making his eyes buggy. I was able to get him to the hospital before he went into that weird limbo state. He had a great doctor and I was feeling really positive about it. 6 days and 3 brain surgeries later Sam came home.  The worst part about this episode was the consequence associated with our daughter and trying to help her process the "whys".
When someone has a brain trauma there are profound changes.  They never really come back the same person. There are little tweeks that are hard for most people to notice- but knowing Sam the way I do, I knew something was different.  His memory wasn't as good and he seemed to have more problems then he had before. The following year Sam had back surgery.  He had 3 of his vertebrae fused. He had been in pain for a long time and we felt this was the best solution for him. It was after this that things started shifting in my proverbial foundation. Sam was going to be released from the hospital but I felt he needed to be checked out by a neurologist.  He seemed off- The best way I can describe it and how I had for the previous few months was that it seemed like Sam was sometimes not there. After ALOT of advocating I finally got one there and after much deliberation he was given an EEG.  They discovered he was having Absent Seizures.  This are the kind you can't see. It is basically like the light turns off and Sam was having them 2 per second. He was given medication and sent home.

That first night he went on walk-about in the middle of the night. The meds made him sleep walk and he had no recollection. But he would wake up in pain because he had just had back surgery and wasn't supposed to be walking around. The second night he tried to take our daughter with him. For the first time I began to worry about the kids (We now had 2).  The meds were changed and Sam gradually came mostly back. Things were as normal as they could be for some time but Sam was never very happy again after this.
In January 2010, the day after having a conversation about taking better care of himself and me feeling a little overwhelmed by the care taking, Sam ended up in the hospital again- but this time with pneumonia.  He was in for 5 days. Something inside me cracked and I found myself feeling less compassion then I had in the past. Of course I was there for him and took care of everything I needed to do, but it wasn't with the same sense of strength, patience and tolerance.  I certainly wasn't happy about it but I still always approached everything I did for him with love in my heart. It was just the first time that I didn't really want to. I was tired because I had a 6 and 3 year old. Juggling everything isn't easy. I was REALLY excited for our summer vacation and felt I would get a much needed break.

Drawing by Jesse Prinz,
my incredibly talented
 brother-in-law

Sam arrived the day before us and on the day we arrived he went bike riding. Bike riding isn't the BEST choice of things for a guy with little balance and vertigo to do. But I wasn't there to be the voice of reason so he went. He fell and broke his leg in 3 places.  I was angry, pissed and a little fed up. This continued through the summer and spilled into the fall when he had to get his leg RE-broken and set.  Due to his already there issues he wasn't able to use crutches so he had a wheelchair in the house, we had a ramp and all my corners were getting destroyed by the dreaded chair. During this time I tried SO hard to be loving and caring- patient and compassionate. I just couldn't find it and I strated wondering if I could stay. Sam was also becoming more forgetful and becoming increasingly self centered. He was depressed and I just assumed this was the reason. This was not good. Finally about a month ago, I convinced him to go back to the neurologist because it just seemed to me that his actions were a little out there for him. He had another EEG and this time he was having focal seizures. The kind that can change personality, affect memory and make it hard for him to do everyday things.
This has all been SO hard for me but one thing I have learned from it is despite all this crap and despite how hard it is or how unstable it makes me feel I am actually really strong and obviously have a hell of alot of compassion. I will always try to be his champion and all I can hope for is the best.  I have also learned that perhaps I want to try to share this story in a more in depth way- perhaps I can help others with my experiences. I have learned that I love Sam despite the hardships.  I need to help him through this and in helping him I help us and I help me. He is my other half, my soul mate and without him life would probably really suck.

To Be or Not to Be?

Yesterday I took my kids to the San Diego Zoo.  Wonderful place, happy monkeys but what REALLY stood out for me was a misguided peacock strutting its stuff for a duck.  The peacock made for a great photo op with its magnificent tail fanned out. It turned from side to side, it rattled its feathers, it strutted. The thousand eyes of Argus glittering in the sun telling tales of love and a promise of a "fruitful" future.  I was stirred...But not the duck.  The duck could have cared less. It sat there preening itself and ignoring the peacock. And in my mind, it is pretty damn hard to ignore THAT.

Something about this whole thing struck me and I am not really sure how- but I will try to define it here.

My thoughts went something like this-

Is this peacock into biracial relationships? Do peahens just not do it for him? Is this little brown duck a total slice of heaven in his mind? Does he like a challenge?  Is he in a mid life crisis and is looking for something different? Is he feeling insecure about himself and wants to make sure he is still attractive to the opposite sex? Is he blind? Is he stupid? Is he drunk? WHAT is he doing?

I find myself thinking this about people sometimes. Like the 40 something guy that just walked into this here Starbucks. WHAT is with the hanging low pants that you have belted around the lower quadrant of your ass? A tight white thermal and orange high top Nikes.  This is his way of peacocking- letting the chicks know he is hip, in shape and young at heart. Or that guy who for some reason thought it would make him more attractive to shape his eyebrows. He is already hot and managed to make himself less attractive by plucking his eyebrows.

Why is it that peahens don't have to strut THEIR stuff? I am bending over backwards trying to lose weight. I wouldn't mind marching in here wearing a tight white thermal and orange high tops and looking young, in shape AND hip. I'm sorry but no can do the low gangsta pants- but I could do with some eyebrow shaping....

There is a lady that comes in here every week wearing exactly the same thing. Brown slacks, a cropped black leather fitted jacket, shiny stripped heels with matching bracelet and a fedora cocked to one side. She has short brownish coppery hair and she must be about 70. The first few times I saw her I thought she looked good- now I just wonder if she ever wears anything else. But good for her for having an outfit that makes her feel good. Does she only have the one or does she have several that are the same? Does she ever mix it up?

We all want to be attractive. We all have our idea of what we think attractive is. I grew up thinking that I wasn't pretty unless I was skinny.  After I had E. Coli and was emaciated I was told I never looked better. I have issues with food and am repelled by over eaters. Pre marriage and kids I was pretty good looking. Now, I don't even recognize myself.  Having children destroyed my body to the point of no return without surgery. I want the surgery so badly it is kind of pathetic. But THAT won't happen unless I win the lottery or I yank a tooth and the tooth fairy leaves me 10K under my pillow because she feels sorry for me. I am a pretty fucked up peahen. Maybe I just long to be the peacock and obviously that ain't gonna happen. Does this make me transgendered? ha.  I used to feel like a peacock sometimes- Now I mostly feel like the duck...but not one that would attract any peacock.  That duck has something special goin' on. WHAT is its secret?

That peacock was SO beautiful, so vibrant and virile. The peacock symbolizes openness and acceptance. In Buddhism they are likened to "bodhisattvas" because they eat poisonous plants and "save" the medicinal plants for others.  They don't seek to bring comfort upon themselves but on others. By taking all problems and suffering upon themselves,  bodhisattvas are able to clear their mental blockages and develop their mind quickly, attaining "higher realization".  I know, heavy stuff but hey- a peacock presented itself and in admiring it my mind went a' racing. 

This wonderful fellow, this beautiful peacock went unnoticed by the very being it so longed to attract. What a let down. 

I'm trying to figure out what can be learned from this. Though the duck ignored the peacock it still tried. I'm no ornithologist but I am pretty sure this is it's instinct. What is OUR instinct? Do we want to look good? If so then why does the lady who just walked in look the way she does? I'm sorry but a belly button ring does not look good on an exposed stomach hanging over bad camo capris. We all have our idea of what beauty is and the guy that she is with obviously thinks she looks sexy and awesome. And she thinks his mullet, bright yellow shirt and black leather vest is pretty stylin'.  But in my mind they are two ducks..... right? 

Grandmother peacocking

So I guess the question here is what is beauty? What works for the goose doesn't necessarily work for the gander? Or what works for the peacock doesn't necessarily work for the duck. If I were the duck I think I'd like the peacock. Maybe my problem is that I just need the beauty too much and I have no idea how to let go of it.  I see my grandmother who got pretty much everything with her looks now essentially rotting her days away in bed as an old woman. At the age of about 65 she decided life wasn't worth living anymore and crawled into bed. She used to tell me that she would wake up happy then look in the mirror and her day would be ruined. She was NOT a duck. Her instinct was to be beautiful. To make men swoon. And they did. Even when she was old, men found her beautiful and desirable. People would tell me I had a hot grandma. And because her "colors" weren't as vibrant she hid under the covers. 

So do we just paint our lives with brighter colors and use more prominent strokes? Is it possible to be a duck and still attract a peacock...obviously it is. Now THAT is the mystery. And as our colors DO fade how do we continue to feel like the peacock?

A Road to Travel

So I have been feeling a little uninspired lately- hence the lack of posts. I'm not really sure WHAT I am doing. Trying to find inspiration, trying to find meaning in little things...hoping something incredible will happen that will ignite my inner fire and evoke a "Shazam!" outta me.
Is this what a midlife crisis is?
Am I REALLY middle aged, standing at a crossroads looking from side to side wondering what lies ahead at each end?
I imagine a dusty, desolate place with, of course, the picturesque nappy tumbleweed flipping across the steaming asphalt. The sun is hot on my head, my shoes may be melting and my skin has a most unhealthy tinge of red. It would do me good to make a decision and go one way or the other but I don't seem to be able to find my blind faith and for some reason the option to return to this fork in the road doesn't seem to be a possibility. Why would I want to return here anyway?  It has been my purgatory for such a long time now.
What I really need is for Zelda the Psychic to magically show up, pitch her Bedouin tent and invite me in for a lemonade. I friggin love lemonade.... So I would definitely oblige. She would be seated at a small table with a velvet table cloth with a sparkling motif that is either stars or swirls and it has a few shadows of a stain from a Starbucks latte. On the table resting on a hand carved piece of Balinese junk is a big hand blown crystal ball that emits a vague glow. She would say nothing and gesture for me to sit down with long fingers with chipped deep purple polish.  She runs her fingertips across the crystal ball and tells me which way to go.  Then the director yells "Cut!" and the First AD yells "Back to 1" and I have to go back outside and find my place where part of my shoe's sole has melted and become one with the road.
Yeah...not happening.

What is kinda interesting about this fork in the road is that in my mind it is asphalt. Why shouldn't my road be in the woods? or on the beach? Instead, I chose the most uninviting setting with two equally unappealing avenues and expect myself to make a decision on one of them. The sun is burning my skin, my shoes are melting. I could be  hiding under the shelter of trees, cooled by their canopy. I could be delighting in the sound of birds singing or a nearby waterfall. Instead I am only joined by an occasional tumbleweed and most likely a dead armadillo. Okay so now I am apparently in Texas. Wow...It is getting worse.  Why would I be able to make a decision?  I am looking at which way is "less bad" rather then looking ahead to a fabulous adventure.
Maybe THIS is something I need to reflect upon. I need to mentally change my "way" into somewhere that I want to be. I need to somehow make a decision that life won't be a trip through a desert in the Southwestern region of the US wearing melting shoes. I should try to be a little less Mad Max and perhaps be more Robert Frost about it all.

Lulu in the Troll Forest, DK 8- 2009

In Denmark, there is a troll forest that is called surprisingly enough the "Troll Forest" or Troldeskoven. The trees are gnarled and crazy with twisted trunks and the air smells damp and fresh. Under your feet as you walk is a thick cushion of loam and moss. There are even red mushrooms with white spots growing on fallen and rotting trees.  If there was ever an enchanted wood, this would be it. You can start at one end and walk a while. The trees begin to thin out and then it opens up to a desolate beach.  The day I was there a light mist hovered in the air over the sea and there was very little movement in the water. It was eerie and beautiful.  Why shouldn't my road be in a magical place like this and lead me to strange and wonderful things?

Most undignified tree ever

I saw a tree today that was trimmed to the point of having no top. It was just a trunk with a weird flattened round ottoman shape resting on it.  I stopped and looked at it for a minute, kind of marveling at the sheer absurdity of it. What was the point? It couldn't cast a shadow so it didn't offer shade. It certainly wasn't pretty, unless you have an affinity for lollipops.  It seemed that its only purpose was to be peed on by dogs. That is so sad and so undignified. I'm not sure how this relates to anything but I feel like it has to in some way. There needs to be a reason for it doesn't there? How it must long to be majestic and wonderful.  Don't we all?

I don't know if I feel like I am this tree or not but I DO know that I don't want to be anything like it. I WANT to be a part of something or someplace amazing even if I am just passing through. And I certainly would rather not see dead armadillos OR dancing tumbleweeds.

Dissin' Disneyland

WARNING- This is ranty and judgmental- I am a self professed flaw pointer outer... I'm not proud of it but I am not ashamed either...I'm not intending to be holier then thou...If you hate cattiness then stop here.
Seriously.

There are certain places one can go where they can see the worst of America.  I find that I often feel better about myself in those places.  Not that I can claim to be better then they are- I am sure they are all perfectly nice people.  I just feel a little thinner and sophisticated after a day with the American masses.
Disneyland is a wonderful place for improved self perception.   There you can feast your eyes on hundreds and hundreds of overweight people wearing Disney inspired clothing.  I'm no fashionista but I would rather squeeze lemon juice on a paper cut then wear some of the shit these people have on.  What self respecting woman wears sparkly pink mouse ears complete with sparkly pink stuffed bow that looks like a pillow, a t shirt with a princess on it and bad capris that give you camel toes? And this is the lady with her boyfriend without kids.  And WHAT is up with those necklace things people wear with all the pins on them?  Do they wear them outside of Disneyland?    I saw a grandpa wearing a pirate hat with long dreads hanging from it- I actually thought that was cool in a funny way- His grand kids probably think he is the bomb for wearing it. Arggg matey.  I feel better about myself despite my muffin top and protruding hernia belly. Damn- I almost feel skinny.  And when the rubber bands holding my hair up break I don't even care that my hair looks bad because I know there is much worse out there. 

We have passes to Disneyland. We can go for a few hours here and there and it isn't terribly unpleasant because we always know we can leave  and come back another day.  I am endlessly amazed by the people I see there. WHO are these people?  Why has the elderly couple wearing bride and groom mouse ears decided to come to Disneyland for their honeymoon?  Is it romantic? Am I missing something?  And the restaurants- do they think the sourdough boule with clam chowder is good? Is it special? Do they care that it is probably 8000 calories and has about 2000 mg of sodium?  What is most alarming is the average size of the people. People were fat. Not fat like they could shed a few...but FAT like they needed a motorized chair or a walker to get around.  How is it fun to go to Disneyland when you are 400 pounds, its hot out, crowded and the lines are ridiculous? Why does one want to spend $75 plus $15 for parking for that? Jamie Oliver should hit up Disneyland for some nutrition counseling. It is all rather atrocious- though they do have stands now with fresh fruit which is nice to see.

The worst "offense" are the little princesses running around. I am all for make believe and wearing your princess outfit to Disneyland. Hell, Lulu did it. But the princess makeovers are truly scary.  At the Princess Fantasy Faire you can see little girls getting hair extensions, makeup and glitter sprayed all over them.  They leave looking like they are about to go do a beauty pageant.  Jon Benet would weep with envy.  It goes beyond being cute and takes it to a whole other level that is just gross. Yes these little girls feel like a princess when they leave but I imagine the "experience" could be a little less glammy and have the same effect.
Of course my children don't notice the other people at all- They are too busy looking at the attractions.  Another thing I can berate myself about.
I was wondering if I was the only judgemental mean person and there are actually facebook pages and websites devoted to bad Disneyland sitings.  Most of them geared towards the overweight people there. So I can feel a little better about my judgmental self knowing that I am not the only one having terrible thoughts and actually sharing them.

As a side note- we had a wonderful time there. It was just me and my son and despite the crowds, we had a blast.  I will remember it forever.  He loved Autotopia, the Haunted House and the Buzz Lightyear ride. Oliver is so friggin cute.

Evaluation control

So mid life crisis…..Kinda makes you evaluate and re-evaluate yourself a lot.  There are days where I feel great. There are days that I feel like crap. Most days I am somewhere in between vacillating between happy and pissed, excited and full of dread.  I look around myself constantly thankful for what I have but wanting more and wondering just what will happen next. I wonder how will I make a buck, how will I continue on this path with some sense of contentment. Do I need antidepressants and is anyone truly happy? Is there anything in this life that isn’t some kind of a let down? Is the only thing truly perfect the softness of my children’s cheeks and how they make me feel when I kiss them?  I question my mothering skills, I question my ability to lose weight, I question my ability to be anything more then I am right now- a mom, a wife, an advocate for my kids and husband, a homemaker and caretaker. A numbers cruncher, laundry folder who can make a dado joint and a good goose.

This week I had the flu. A disaster. Oliver is on spring break, Lulu is not. My house looks like a bomb hit it and now that I am on a fraction of the cymbalta that I was on, my obsessive need for clean is showing its shiny head. I can’t relax because I am aware that the house looks like crap. I want to throw everything away so that I don’t have to deal with it at all. I didn’t even make my bed today and I have thought about it about 200 times. Well, not 200 but maybe 3.

I made myself fresh matzo ball soup because one I like is too expensive to buy every day. I can’t make matzo balls. I am seriously questioning my Jewish heritage because my matzo balls could double as door stops.. Nothing like the light and fluffy ones I pay too much money for.  But I do make good broth. I can give myself thumbs up for that.

I feel behind the eight ball. Oliver is on break and I refuse to rest while he watches TV.  It is also sunny and beautiful outside and I am not at all worried about radiation in the air. I want my son outside playing. So that means I have to be outside playing too.  I am not being a martyr- I am just not wanting Oliver to spend his break with the Bubble Guppies or Ultraman.

So evaluating and re-evaluating.  It is a constant thing.  It just seems like a never ending quest to figure out the “right” thing to do. It isn’t like there is a right or wrong thing here. Whatever happens happens but trying to figure out how to take things in stride and to be okay with decisions.  This is where being a Buddhist or Taoist would be a helpful.  

A winning lottery ticket wouldn't be so bad either....

a moment

Occasionally,  I go through a period of time where everything feels wrong. no matter what. No matter what I put on I feel fat, my hair looks bad and somehow the day is sculpted and formed based on these negative perceptions. Then you feel like people don't like you and you have this weird feeling you have tricked the people who DO like you into liking you and you always over cook the meat even if its cooked perfectly.  Everything just feels wrong.
Then sometimes and, unfortunately, somewhat rarely, things feel right.  You have a moment where your child makes you smile and you really feel that smile in your heart.  Suddenly, you don't give a shit that your roots are 2" long and that there is twice as much grey- make that 3 times as much grey as you remember there being a week ago.  It doesn't matter that the floor needs to be mopped or that I still haven't settled on a contractor for the garage. What matters is that the air smells good, my child is hugging me and I feel happy. I feel good about myself and don't worry about those out there who may not like me because I love the ones I have that do like me. and I am pretty sure I didn't trick them.  Fat. Yeah.... that is still a minus but isn't a chain wrapped around my ankle puling me into an abyss or anything.  You have a moment of perfection and then that moment stretches into an hour because your other child also hugs you and says something heartbreakingly sweet. There is no screaming- just smiles and happy chatter. That hour turns into longer as you realize that as you sit typing in Starbucks, while Lulu is karate chopping upstairs, that you are smiling ear to ear. For no particular reason.