Complaints

An old acquaintance of mine posted on Facebook the other day about an interesting challenge she, along with her yoga class buddies, are taking part in.  The goal is to stop complaining for 21 days. Of course, I immediately responded with how much I love this idea, but I also acknowledged that it seemed fairly unlikely that I could pull it off. I almost went on to complain about how hard it would be to not complain, but I deleted that part before I hit enter.

She definitely planted a seed in my mind though. I’ve been thinking a lot about complaining, and how much I dislike listening to and being around people who do it excessively. They’re depressing and negative and just suck the joy right out of a room. Then, I started thinking about how much I complain.

Since self analysis isn’t really all that fun, and it looked like it could be rather unflattering in this case, I decided to do what I always do.  Start googling.  I read that most people complain 15 to 30 times a day. When I think about it, I could probably complete that quota before noon, especially if I’m gabbing with my friends. If I get on a roll about things that annoy me, I can probably shoot off 15 complaints in an hour, easy. 

I like to think that I focus a lot of my complaining into sarcastic humor, which is better than just plain old negative complaining, since it often results in laughter, but is it really any better? It’s still negative and unpleasant, and it puts my focus on what’s wrong, not what’s right.

I know complaining effects me and my loved ones in unpleasant ways, which is why I love the idea of stopping so much. It rarely makes anyone feel better, well except maybe for a few minutes while you initially vent, but in the long run, the more I complain, the more I end up focusing on the down sides of my life, and that really just makes me less happy.

As I was sitting here debating ways to cut back on my own complaining, one of my dogs came over wagging and wanting to go out. In getting up to open the door, I spilled the entire contents of my fresh, hot, milky, sugary coffee all over the bed, soaking through every layer of blankets, and losing my delicious cup of morning yum. If that’s not easy fodder for complaining, I don’t know what is. It is taking all of my morning reserves to just let it go, and throw the blankets in a pile to be washed. Ranting isn’t going to get the laundry done, right?

That’s another thing about complaining. A lot of the time, we’re moaning about things we have no power to change. What’s the point in that? Misery? When it comes to things we do have the power to change, we’d probably be more successful in changing them if we actually did something besides sitting around whining. I could be complaining about my coffee and the blankets, or I could be getting a new cup and starting the washer.It depends on what I want more- to prolong my misery or get caffeinated. I'm going with choice #2.

 
Although I’m pretty darn good at complaining myself, I know I’m not the only one. As a culture, we’re fairly addicted to it. We like to compete about who has the busier schedule or the worse day. Once one person starts, everyone around starts groaning about their own woes. When you think about it, all that clinging to misery and pride in the greatest hardships probably qualifies as a mental health disorder. Of course, I’m not a mental health professional or in any way trained to make a diagnosis, but it seems pretty crazy to hang on to unhappiness. Maybe it’s just easier than dealing with taking responsibility.

 There’s even a website devoted to trying to make a complaint free world. They offer widgets to help you track your progress and bracelets you can wear as a reminder, switching wrists every time you complain, with the goal of going 21 days without switching. Again, that sounds mammoth to me, especially when you realize that every time you mess up, you start your 21 days over. Seriously!?

Like most things, the theory of not complaining is much easier than the reality of it. The woman who started me thinking about this with her challenge said that she feels it’s mostly about awareness. I agree that’s a great start. Just being aware of our thoughts, words, and intentions makes a huge difference because all of those things add up to subconsciously program who we are.

As a mom of ever growing kids, this really matters. They’ve always paid attention and reflected what was going on around them, but the older they get, the more they really watch and analyze the things the adults around them say and do. My attitude, positive or negative really sets the tone for the whole family. I know the more I complain or the grumpier I am, the worse off everyone around me is. It’s true that if mama isn’t happy, nobody is going to be.

As usual, for parents, it’s about so much more than just us. The fate of our households rest on our attitudes (no pressure or anything.) I'd love to hear how other people deal with complaining in their families- from both the adults and the kids.

I don’t think I’m quite ready to do a 21 day complaint free challenge- the thought actually gives me heart palpitations and immediately furrowed my brow. If my forehead crease gets any deeper, I’ll have even more to whine about, so I’m trying to avoid the stress of the “big challenge.” I am however up for being aware, and trying to avoid complaining thoughts and words as much as I can. I’m considering trying to tally all of my complaints for a day, just to see where I’m at at. 

I’m sharing the idea with my kids, but I think that even if they don’t consciously attempt it, there will still be a ripple effect from any positive strides I’m able to pull off. That's my positive thinking side in action. On the other hand, I'm still skeptical that I could be totally complaint free, ever.... (my less positive side is still alive too) 

Not everybody is cut out to be a spiritual master, but I'm hoping I can at least be less crabby as we head into the holidays. Imagine if we all cut our whining by 10%. I think we'd be more than 10% happier, though there's really no way to measure.


For now, I'm off to make more coffee and start my massive pile of laundry (and I'm conciously not complaing about it.)

Relaxing Family Yoga.... Well....Not Really

For those who are up for considering something new and relaxing with your kids...something like say, yoga...well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I feel I should warn you- yoga with children may not turn out to be relaxing in the least. Amusing probably, but relaxing....well not so much.

I've done yoga myself on and off for years, and I always feel great afterward, especially when I practice regularly. My body feels all stretchy and relaxed and my mind feels clear and peaceful- these are great things to share with kids right? That's what I thought when I had my harebrained idea of the week- to implement a regular yoga time with my kids.

One of my offspring in particular is a bundle of energy and could occasionally use some help in the focus department, so I especially looked forward to introducing him to yoga. The other is pretty mellow on her own, but when exposed to Crazy Child, it rubs off slightly.

Anyway, I found the most wonderful yoga instructor on You Tube- a woman named Esther. I first came across her "Happy Morning Yoga" and loved it. I am still not sure if it's the actual yoga, or just her calming voice, but I was smiling in no time.



Esther has yoga for just about any occasion too- Feeling sluggish? Have a headache or cramps? Insomnia? Are you a runner? Want to lose weight? Whatever your issue you want to deal with, she has a handy little search tab, and I've been able to find videos for just about any occasion (although sometimes you have to phrase it more than one way to find what you want and make sure you're searching her Yogatic channel to get her videos, not all of You Tube, or you might end up with some random bikini clad bouncy person)
 
Anyway, I'm attempting to implement Relaxing Family Yoga, although so far, it hasn't been all that relaxing...ok, not at all. Perhaps eventually, Mr. Wiggle Kid will actually listen to what Esther is saying and not just flail himself into some crazy pretzel position. Perhaps someday they won't both randomly burst into giggles when we are supposed to be focusing on our breath. Yeah....maybe. In the meantime, I am getting two kinds of yoga- relaxing on my own, and entertaining with my kids. And, I'm convincing myself that they are somehow organically absorbing something valuable and learning by osmosis.

Another bonus- not that we're ever short of things that count as PE in our happy little homeschool, but this does add some variety to the mix. So, if you're looking for something lovely to try for yourself, or something fun to do with your family, I would highly recommend Esther. Her free videos are awesome! But if your kids are anything like mine, it might not be very peaceful.

Stitches

Sometimes you just think something seems like a bad idea. You just get a little feeling that whatever is happening is probably not going to work out for the best, and maybe you ought to stop and go with your instincts.

But then, you might think you're just being overprotective and worrying too much, and that everything will be fine, and besides if you just let it alone, you might get a moment of peace and quiet- a chance to relax while the young ones do their thing.

Actually, I might recommend plan A, because sometimes plan B backfires and your child ends up with a big bloody wound full of sand on their face, and that does not result in any peace and quiet, none at all.

Such was the case on a recent trip to the coast with my children's youth group. I am generally happy to be the spare adult / chaperone / driver etc on these deals because:
1) You get to go to fun places, and I love going to fun places, and
2) I enjoy kids and find them quite entertaining.

So, I am along on this adventure as the extra driver, happy as can be in my rental PT Cruiser full of dancing giggling kids (within the confines of their seat belts, of course) and trying to keep up with our convoy in Bay Area traffic. We camped and hiked in the redwoods and played on the beach everyday. I'm pretty sure that the redwoods and the ocean are two of the best things in the world for a person, and I was in the company of good people as well, so all in all it was a splendid trip.

Then, things went slightly amiss. We were on a beach in Capitola, gathering driftwood for our beach fire when we came across a lovely, and very hard wooden burl in the shape of a baseball. The males amongst us had the idea to fashion a bat by whacking another piece of driftwood into shape so they play a game. Being a non-male, this did not seem like the best idea to me at the time.

In fact, I distinctly remember thinking, "Oh, this ought to work out well...." in the usual sarcastic voice in my head. I could sort of picture the bat in process flying back in someone's face and giving them a painful lump, but I can tend to have a slightly dramatic imagination on occasion, and they seemed to have it under control. The bat was fashioned without incident or injury, so I didn't pay too much more attention to that feeling.

My Boy Child was running with the big kids, and the fire, a blanket and my book were just sitting there calling me towards a moment of solitude. I settled in cozily with the sounds of laughter, waves and gulls in the background. It was lovely.

My moment lasted about a minute and a half. Then, I heard the crack of the bat and the wooden ball colliding, a whoosh, a thud, a collective gasp and a muffled scream. My head whipped around to see my Boy Child face down in the sand with his hands over his mouth and large quantities of blood streaming from between his fingers. As I rushed towards him from behind, his sister came towards from the front. She saw his face before I did and looked up in horror gasping something about his teeth being missing.

It's funny how the mind works. I had a brief second of panic where my eyes literally felt like saucers, before something kicked in and my mind calmly decided that no matter what I would buy my boy new teeth if I needed too, no matter the cost. I would drive my old Volvo for another 5 years if I had to, because even in the little mountain town we call home, having your teeth is important after the age of 10 or so.

A few more steps and a deep breath, and I reached him. Thanks be to God, his teeth were still attached, albeit 3 permanent ones were loose. He had a small, but gaping wound on his upper lip which was filthy with beach grit and bleeding like crazy. Once we got the bleeding to stop, it looked like he might need stitches. It was also obvious that there was no way I was the best person to clean out that sandy gross wound. There are people who are good at doing that kind of thing without contorting their own faces into looks of shock and disgust, gagging and muttering prayers. I am not one of those people. Those people go to medical school and make lots of money sewing up people like us, and we needed to find one of those people.

Teenagers and their smart phones are handy to have when you need to find a doctor in a strange town after 6 pm. Twelve members of our party crowded the waiting room while I watched my boy's face be flushed out and stitched up. What a good group of kids to wait for their friend, hungry, sandy and wet without complaint.

The poor kid that had wielded the bat looked like he felt awful. I tried to convince him that we didn't blame him, but he still looked miserable. I think my jokes about him having a future in lip piercing or orthodontia baffled him more than comforted him, but the thing is, sometimes you have to either find a way to laugh about something or you'll start crying about it, and as a supposed adult in charge, I figured bad jokes were better than the hysterics. 

The stitches are out now, and the scar is pretty small. The loose teeth, thankfully firmed up, and are actually straighter than they were before, straighter than the ones on other side of his mouth too. If it had been more centered, perhaps we could have saved a ton on braces in a few years, although I don't really recommend filthy pieces of wood as a means of straightening teeth.

Of course it would have been nice if this little incident never happened, but since it did, I actually feel really lucky that it hit where it did. The whole thing could have been so very much worse. Lost teeth, broken nose, eye socket, concussion. Yikes. In gives me a horrible feeling in my stomach to think about it.

So, that's why I'm thinking that listening to that little voice is a good idea. When you feel a little skeptical, like something probably is not the best idea, you might just be right.

Danger in the Desert

Not to sound too much like the title of a Hardy Boys novel, but there's no denying there is "Danger in the Desert."

Our first brush with the dangers of the desert on this trip came while camping at Joshua Tree when we ripped shorts, shoes and some skin on the abrasive rocks. But this was mild, and while it was slightly annoying to have to need new shoes and shorts less than a week into a 5 week adventure, it was not truly scary at all. (Of course if anyone had been behind me when my shorts tore, now that could have been scary.)

Our next brush came on a leisurely stroll with our friends near Mesa, Arizona. Since it was hot, we chose a mellow walk rather than an intense hike. I didn't really think of changing out of sandals, but I learned that sandals on a poky cactus trail are not the best idea. Boy Child was the first to get poked. Somehow, while staying on the trail, he managed to wind up with barbed cactus thorn stuck in several places in his shoe and his ankle. While he knelt down to try to pull the needles from his skin, he did not notice that there was another entire mini cactus chunk stuck to his other shoe, and he was leaning his rear end about a half an inch away from it. We all frantically tried to warn him, but he was so obsessed with the difficulty of trying to pull out the needles in his ankle that he just bounced about in a kneeling position, barely missing far worse injury than what he had on his ankle, and having no idea he was even in danger. By some miracle, he managed to escape his backside connecting with the cactus, but it was a narrow escape. Girl Child and I each wound up with quite a few needles in the toes of our shoes, and we had never left the trail either. It was like these spines had a magnet for our feet.

A few days later, we camped near Saquaro National Park. When we were rolling our tent up in the morning, a very grumpy scorpion came out from under it, and got all wiggly with his tail at me, presumably because I messed with his shady spot under my tent.

Another few nights after that, we were camped near Alamagordo, New Mexico, and heard a little rattling noise near our campstove. I shined the lantern out of the tent, expecting to run off some little squirrel like creature, and what do I see? What I saw was the back of a very large skunk who looked like he was standing up on the bench seat of the picnic table and playing with the knobs on my stove. Once I realized who, or should I say what the creature was, I decided against my original plan of yelling at it to frighten it away. Instead I stuck my head back in my tent and zipped the flap while praying for my guest to leave without making a stink. Thank goodness he did, but he hung around right next to me for quite some time.

Our final scare has been another less than pleasant hotel room. For some unknown reason, the nicely rated public campground we had planned to stay at at the Valley of Fires Recreation Area was closed off with a locked gate, and we were out in the middle of nowhere with darkness on the way. I was wide awake so we just drove on towards Albuquerque. Boy Child wanted to just sleep in the car in a parking lot, but that sounded not only uncomfortable, but embarrassing, and possibly unsafe as well. We slept in the car once, but we were in a camp site we had paid for, which is entirely different than a parking lot. Anyway, we were still about an hour or more away when I started getting tired. There were no campgrounds around, so we just pulled over and checked into a room. Why, oh why didn't I ask to see it first? To avoid being negative, I will just say that after being in here a bit, I really, really prefer my own tent and sleeping bag, even in a wind storm. I do not even want to contemplate the dangers of slacker hotel keeping, but on the bright side, I have the best wifi I have had in the whole state of New Mexico.

So, there's a number of lessons learned here about not wearing flip flops in the desert, being careful where you step or reach and above all, trying at all cost to avoid hotels in the middle of nowhere.

Traumatic School Lunch Memories- Bird by Bird

Anne Lamott's writing book, Bird By Bird, is an oldie, but a goody, that I just recently discovered. A friend who always points me in the direction of good reads, recommended it years ago. I've been feeling a little fragmented and stagnant, and in general like I've been neglecting my writing. So, when I came across the book at a thrift store, I grabbed it. I have been reading sections of off and on for a month.

Anne's writing is raw and honest, which I knew from Traveling Mercies, the story of her unlikely path to finding faith, and Operating Instructions, the tell all story of her unexpected pregnancy, and the brutal, early days of motherhood. Anne isn't for those who are squeamish or easily offended because she just tells it like it is, and it isn't always pretty. My jaw dropped at least a couple of times while reading her life stories.

In Bird By Bird, Anne talks about her own life as a writer, and tries to encourage others in getting past the road blocks and obstacles to writing, and just getting busy with the pen and paper (or laptop as the case is more likely to be these days.) Anne also teaches adult writing classes, and gives a few assignments that she also gives to her writing students. One exercise that she feels everyone can benefit from, and easily accomplish is writing about school lunches. Everyone, at least in America, must have some memories of school lunches.

Well, aside from the poor, unsocialized, homeschooled children like mine, who never went to school, and therefore are completely going to miss out on this assignment. They'll be OK though. They are creative thinkers. I'm sure they could write about how their mother put ground flax seed in their birthday cake or used a napkin to soak up all the grease on their pepperoni pizza before she let them eat it. There's plenty of weird lunch material they could draw from.

As for me, when I started thinking about school lunches, I immediately had the most unpleasant flashback. Imagine being 8 years old, and one of the only non-rich kids at your private school. There is no cafeteria- everyone brings their lunch. As the other kids open their Twinkies, and bologna on Wonder white bread, I open my super cool Scooby Do lunchbox wondering what my step dad had packed for me on this day.

For reference, my step dad at the time was a bit of an odd fellow, who would seem normal and even semi nice at times, and just plain crazy, illogical and mean at others. In hindsight, he probably had post traumatic stress disorder from his stint in Vietnam, but as a kid, the only thing I knew was that he was OK in a good mood, but you didn't want to make him mad.
He would sometimes give us canned Spaghetios every night for dinner for weeks straight (OK, again, in hindsight, maybe it was only like 5 days, but it felt like weeks.) At first we thought "Yay, cool, Spaghettios!" (I know, I had very bad taste in food at the time, but I was a kid) But after the third day, we were like "Ugh, Spaghettios again?" He responded to our complaints with a pretty scary temper, so we kept them quiet.

In the case of my school lunch memory though- there was at least actual spaghetti involved, not Spaghettios. Now, I like spaghetti, but what he did with it on this occasion still causes me distress to think about. The spaghetti was sandwiched between 2 slices of white bread. It gets worse. He had also decided to add frozen peas and carrots in the mix. Yes, I had a cold spaghetti and pea sandwich on white bread.
Well, of course I didn't eat it. I tried to hide it as quickly as possible before anyone saw the atrocity and called attention to it. But you know how kids are always wanting to see what everybody else has and trade lunch stuff. Someone saw. The secret was out. I think I must have subconsciously blocked out what followed, but we all know how mean kids can be, and that was some pretty easy teasing material right there.

What could he have possibly been thinking? A cold spaghetti and peas sandwich? Why on earth would he do that? Did he actually think it was just a handy way to get a complete meal, including veggies, or was  he trying to cause me humiliation and grief? Of course I took to making my own sandwiches at that point, just to be sure. Who knows, maybe that was his point- to get his step kids to be more self sufficient. I'll never know since my mother and he divorced, and I haven't seem him in over 20 years.

Still, the memory of that sandwich is something I'll never forget. I don't think anyone ever asked me to trade lunches with them at that school again. A few years later, we moved a thousand miles away, and I went to a new school- one where no one knew about my cold spaghetti and peas sandwich- one where I could trade my lunches without the fear of that story coming to haunt me.

Anyone else have any school lunch memories- traumatic or otherwise?

Infectious Disease Vacation

How was our recent family vacation? I don't think I've ever had a vacation quite like it. I mean, other than the infectious diseases and germs from around the world, it was good, but spreading illnesses tend to take a bit away from family fun.

We are generally healthy, and since I like it that way, I tend to be a bit of a germ freak. I'm not so worried about a spotless house or my kids getting dirty in actual dirt, but I do tend to shy away from people who are have any abnormal amount of mucous, even if I love those people. Whether it be a runny nose, cough or sneezing, I don't want any part of the droplets, spray, or residue on everything they touch. Any surfaces that have been touched by the general public really gross me out, and I go to great lengths to avoid touching doors, handles etc. I may not be a good housekeeper, but I'm very big on hand washing.

Anyway, a few days before we left for our family trip, I learned that my nieces we were going to see both had colds which included a hacking cough. I was bummed for the poor little things, and a tad paranoid too. Particularly as an asthmatic, I try to any extra avoid any added lung issues, but I love those girls, and we only get to see them a couple of times a year, so I figured we'd just up our vitamin C intake and go heavy on the hand sanitizer.

By the time we got into town, my nieces were on the mend, but now my brother was sick. Apparently, it was pretty bad as he was banished from coming over to the little beach condo where my kids and I were staying with my Dad, his wife, and my sister.We decided to delay the slumber party at my brothers house, but had the girls over to play and visit.

The next day, my Boy Child was not feeling so well. He had a headache for a while, and out of the blue made a run for the kitchen sink where he suddenly lost his supper (as well as spoiling the clean dishes lying on the rack.) None of the other sickos in the family had any nausea or vomiting, just mucous, so I initially suspected he ate something funky on the train. While I debated whether the cream cheese on the bagel was bad or not, we bundled up Boy Child, set him up with a bucket, and tried to help him get some rest. The next day was a beautiful day at the beach, and we observed it from the window of our condo since Boy Child was weak from a night full of illness.

There were of course lots of things we would've loved to have gone and done while in sunny southern California, but leaving Mr. Sicky was out of the question, and he wasn't exactly up for running around. Abuelita rented us some movies, and we lounged. Finally, I decided that Boy Child needed fresh ocean air, and while we could see the beach from our balcony, the shade made it too cold for a sick kid to enjoy. So I made some tea to go, bundled him and up and we slowly walked the short distance down to the sand. He laid down and soaked up the warmth of the sun for a bit while I read aloud and watched the waves. Then, it was like a miracle. I think the sun and ocean air really did help because in a short time, he was up and acting like himself, only operating at a slightly slower than usual speed.

He was playing and climbing poles in no time. The illness seemed to leave almost as quickly as it came on, and I was still chalking it up to some kind of food public transportation food poisoning.

We all felt like the sickness was behind us, and we could go one with enjoying our vacation. My brother was feeling better too, so we planned a big family dinner.At some point during the preparations, my sister managed to throw her back out, but it was still a lovely get together with good food and good people.

Late in the night though, my sister got sick. By the wee hours of the morning, my Girl Child was as well. At this point, I knew it wasn't food. Who knows, it was probably something disgusting virus he picked up on some surface at the train station, and spread around. You see? That is exactly why I hate touching things! Anyway, I had been worried about catching the cough from my nieces, but we seemed to manage to catch our own special illness, and bring it to share. I am just so glad that we didn't share it with them, or my new baby nephew.

More plans were canceled, and more movies were rented. Lots more lounging took place. I decided since the sunshine and beach air helped Boy Child so much, that I'd try it on Girl Child. So, we took her for a nap on the sand.

Boy Child was seemingly completely recovered at this point, and digging holes in the sand. Girl Child probably would have found this very amusing if she hadn't been so ill. We were supposed to leave for home that evening, but I postponed it. Girl Child was definitely on the mend, but I didn't want to chance it.

Well, I was very glad that I made that choice because late that night, Boy Child had a relapse. He didn't actually get sick, but he felt like he was going to, and he looked like it too. I had been fighting a bit of a headache myself, but in complete denial that I too could get sick. Well, at some point after midnight, I could deny it no longer- I had to steal the bucket from my kid because I very suddenly needed it myself.

Now this was just lame. First, spending my beach vacation tending for rotating people with chills, shakes and fevers, who also happen to be vomiting, and now I was joining the sick crowd. Super lame. The good thing was that it passed quickly.

I treated myself to the same sunshine and beach air cure, and it really did help. As I regained strength, we took a stroll down the beach, and chatted with Girl Child about the healing ways of nature. She suggested we move here, particularly to a house on the beach like this. Well, at least she has good taste.

That night we were well enough to travel, and felt we had more than over-extended our welcome, having turned the vacation condo into a hospital sick ward and all. We caught a late night train to make our long way home.

It would be pretty easy to focus on the disappointing nature of this trip. Traveling 1400 miles round trip to share the flu is a bit of a bummer, but there were bright sides too. We got to meet my new nephew, and we didn't get him sick. We got to see lots of other family, to enjoy the beach, and to watch about 2 months worth of movies too. We also had fun train rides. Overall, the adventure was worth it. It can't all be fun and games, but we are hoping our next trip is at least without infectious diseases.

Please excuse my technical difficulties

While on our Thanksgiving holiday, we had a few mishaps...well, actually we had a whole bunch of mini disasters. It started with germs from around the world that were living in the family members who had gathered to share some happy celebrations together.

The little ones were full of sniffles and coughs, and there was an icepick style headache in at least one adult. Still, we were determined to have a stinking happy family celebration. A few days before, out of the blue, my Boy Child threw up. The next day, he was better so we assumed it was something he ate. So, we went on with our big day before Thanksgiving dinner plans- or what I referred to as "Round 1." A turkey was stuffed and roasted, yams were smothered in sugar, pies were bought, and in the midst of all the cooking and preparations, my sister threw her back out. The poor thing had her shoulder hiked up to her ear, and was hunched over, walking around like a 90 year old. She tried to retire to the other room, but we drug out her out, propped her on the couch, and forced her to participate in our fun. I think she was glad for the entertainment...at least at first.

Sometime late in the night though, after everyone had gone to bed, whatever sickness had my Boy Child so ill the day before attacked her with a vengeance. I am guessing that vomiting when your back is tweaked must be a doubly miserable experience. I wondered if her pain medication made her sick, until in the wee hours of the morning, my Girl Child got sick too. That's when we knew we would be cancelling Round 2 of Thanksgiving which was to involve a whole bunch more family. We weren't going to be those horrible relatives that show up and infect them with our plague- especially since a pregnant mama with triplets brewing was going to be there.

For the dear relatives who were hosting us at the beach condo, it was too late to avoid bringing them our illness though. We were already there, camped out in beds all over the living room with buckets near by just in case. At one point, I had to steal the bucket from my Boy Child for my own emergency event. I was 700 miles from home, without even a car- it wasn't like I could just load the kids back on the train with a barf bag.

So, we had to wait it out. The sickness rotated through my kids, knowcking each one down for a day or two before moving on to the next. It really put a damper on excursions or more visits. I had brought my laptop along to get some work and writing done, but by day two, the battery charger had decided it no longer was going to charge. I promptly ran out of power, and between being there for sick kids and stores being closed for a day, I was just out of luck as far as using my computer. So, I fell behind on work, a college project, and my poor neglected blog.

Luckily, we were right on the beach, so whenever someone wasn't nauseaus, or was between chills and fevers, we'd walk along the beach and lay on the sand. On one of these relaxing lounge times, Girl Child somehow managed to knock my camera face down into a pile of sand which covered the lens completely. First, it wouldn't open. I am pretty sure my head spun around and flames shot out my flared nostrils while my scolding voice sounded like Voldemort. Luckily for Girl Child, the camera lens cover did finally open, and it took pictures again, but now, it won't close. It looks like a sleepy eyed thing winking at me, but at least it takes photos. Of course, I haven't been able to upload any to my laptop because it's still dead while I wait for my new power cord to arrive. I am typing this late at night on the family desktop that I rarely, rarely ever use. It's amazing how much I miss the ability to work in the coziness of my own bed.

In any case, we are finally home. I guess if a vacation has to include include vomiting, at least we had beautiful views and good company, but generally, I'd rather skip the illness altogether- or at least experience it in the comfort of my own home. Hopefully, I'll be back up and running soon, with photos and stories to tell and my trusty little laptop to whip them out on. Until then, enjoy the season....

Hat Creek Hiking

After a sluggish winter of not nearly enough exercise, I have been feeling more than ready to get moving this summer. My dear husband has taken up running, and while he is reaping the benefits of getting in shape and feeling great, I don't really see myself following in those footsteps. He has kindly encouraged me to come along, but I am pretty sure that would be a disaster. I have absolutely no desire to run. I rarely if ever do it unless something scary is chasing me. Walking however, I like. Hiking is something I enjoy as well, and my kids are at a great stage to hike along with me.

Luckily for us, the hills of Northern California are filled with wonderful hiking opportunities. Sometimes, we take the dogs, and sometimes we don't, but I am always on the lookout for dog friendly hiking adventures.

I was feeling a little like a neglectful dog owner recently, so I decided we needed to take our two canines on our next mountain hike. We chose to explore the Hat Creek area between Lassen National Park and Burney Falls. We didn't really have a clear plan, other than we wouldn't be hitting the main parks this trip. National Parks tend not to allow dogs on any trails, so that wouldn't really work with my hiking plan. I also tend to avoid potential crowds even more when I have my dogs because their friendly lunch stealing and shaking off all over people ends up being embarrassing and annoying.

I am not a fisher woman, but apparently, the Hat Creek area is big stuff with the fishing crowd. The creek itself is frigid, but my big beastly dog did not mind in the least. In fact, he seemed to relish in it. The air temperatures are probably 10 degrees cooler than in the nearby valleys, which can be a big plus in the oppressive heat of summer. We stopped at a cute little visitor center, and found out that in addition to cave hikes and lava flows (both of which would be really bad news for dogs foot pads,) there was also a nice trail that followed the creek out of a campground for a few miles.  It was perfect for us.

It was relatively flat with only a few rolling hills. Most of the trail was dappled in shade, and cushioned with pine needles, which are especially nice for my big dog who is a notorious tender foot. Best of all, I don't think I saw any poison oak the whole time. The dogs had a blast sniffing all the new scents, and attempting to chase chipmunks. The kids and I enjoyed the serenity and beauty of tall trees, flowing water and wildlife.

I did see one interesting sign, encouraging visitors not to touch the wildlife as there had been confirmed cases of plague in wild animals in the area in recent years. Plague!?! Plague!?!  How on earth can there be plague in the United States in the year 2010? It's like something out of the 1600's or something. I wanted to take a picture of the sign, but my camera batteries died.

Well, I decided not to let a little thing like the possibility of catching the plague dampen my lovely hike with my family. I wasn't planning on playing with wild rodents anyway, and I'd be sure to keep my dogs on the leash so they didn't. Since my dear husband wasn't along for this particular hike, we didn't have to have the discussion where he insinuates that I am over controlling by keeping the dogs from running loose. I was actually rather surprised at how non-freaked I became about the whole thing myself. I only did a tiny bit of research on plague in North America when I got home, but after our amoeba incident, I made a conscious choice not to allow myself to get carried away with it. I'm sometimes a little paranoid about things I read, but come on, plague?

Anyway, other than that little bit of strangeness, it was a gorgeous day. At the visitor center, we had also picked up some brochures on local trees and birds of the area, so while we stopped for our typical chocolate, fruit and cheese picnic, we also did a little nature study and tried to spot and identify what we could (keeping a safe distance from all potential plague carrying animals, of course.)

A few years ago, a fire went through the area, and there were still plenty of scarred hillsides. But, it wasn't totally devastated as I've seen other fire ravished areas be, and there was still plenty of beautiful green life to enjoy. We want to go back up to visit again, next time without dogs, so we can explore the Subway Cave,and some of the other non- dog friendly lava rock trails in the area. We left for home inspired to take more hikes, go camping, and enjoy the gorgeousness of the great outdoors as much as we can this summer.

I always love hearing about other fun destinations for hiking, especially dog friendly ones. Where are you hiking this summer?

Nipple Nazi? Really?

I've just finished an intensive Lactation Educator training, that took up a huge chunk of my last week (hence the lack of writing) and gave my brain an overload of information. It was a great thing to see nearly 70 other women and one lone male from at least 4 different counties there to get current education to help moms and babies get off to a good start (although there were a few who clearly were forced into the training by their employers, but that attitude was uncommon by far.)

The training was full of new information, some things I never would have thought of, and some things I already knew in my heart, but now I have the science to back up. Some of the medical aspects such as diseases and abnormal conditions were rather scary. Although, if the idea of breasts being referred to as "pendulous" was shocking to me, I imagine it disturbed the token male even more so.

The component on working together as professionals brought out a few things that never cease to surprise me. For example, there seem to be people who choose to go into the field of caring for birthing women and their babies, who don't really seem to like birth (which can be loud, messy and unruly) or babies (who tend to be needy and cry a lot.) Perhaps they go into it for the money, but I am equally surprised and saddened when some of these people seem to resent other people in adjacent jobs who actually do like helping the moms and babies. They have a whole list of derogatory names for breastfeeding advocates. I know we've been called "the boob ladies" by random men at community events, but when healthcare professionals call names, it kind of puts a different spin on it.

A nurse at a hospital (that is more known for it's NICU than it's baby friendly practices) said she was very shocked when she made her first referral to the Lactation Consultant for a patient who was having a hard time getting her baby to latch on. Some of the other nurses began to groan "Oh no, not the Nipple Nazi." Seriously? Helping a woman prevent sore nipples, and a baby get nutrition is similar to mass murder? Really?

Apparently, they felt that the woman who was specifically trained to help in this situation was a Nazi because she was "always trying to get people to breastfeed when it really wasn't a big deal to just supplement." The fact that the "Nazi" had thousands of hours of training specifically in this area of expertise, that the supplement in many cases creates additional problems, and that their own job protocol included helping breastfeeding mothers actually succeed did not seem to be a part of the equation. I know it can be hard to learn to do things differently than we have in the past, but it is after all a part of life, and in this case, being current in the field of medicine is their job. I could understand the bad rap if the consultant was gruff or rude or aggressive with the mothers, but that doesn't appear to be the case. I don't think it was the consultants' demeanor, just the fact that she was messing with the good old way of doing things.

Now I've met a quite a few people in the lactation business, and most have them have been pretty loving and kind people- the kind of people I'd want supporting me if I had a new baby and was having a hard time. I've never met one who was rigid, or mean, or in any way trying to make mothers feel guilty if they chose to give up. They usually seem like people who actually just want to help.

That's not to say that the mothers who give up don't feel guilty- they often do, but not because the lactation consultant made them. Mother guilt is pretty strong in our culture, and we all feel bad when we are unable or unwilling to accomplish something that we know would have been good for our babies.

I realize that working at a breastfeeding support center, some people automatically consider my coworkers and I members of the Breastfeeding Police. I don't know whether to laugh or cry about that. I am a woman with a less than quiet manner, and an expressive personality in most of my life, so I have to tone down my natural self in my work. I do try to be professional, but more importantly, I hope I am able to be kind to my clients more than anything. Having a baby is not always easy, and the mamas deserve some TLC. My co-workers happen to be some of the sweetest women around though. Someone once described my supervisor who had helped her try to breastfeed her baby with Down Syndrome by saying "I wish I could take that woman home with me and have her be my children's grandma." I'm thinking that doesn't sound like Nazi material...

Working with the general public, most of us realize it takes all kinds of people to make up the world. We try to support people wherever they are at, knowing that most people are genuinely trying to do the best they can for their babies. I've met some women who try so hard, doing all the right things, and it just never seems to work. My heart breaks for them, and I always make sure they know what awesome mamas they are. I've also met women who give up on the first sign of trouble or inconvenience, and a few who just don't seem to care. Sometimes it's not easy when someone tells you they prefer formula because their baby rarely poops when they drink it, but I still don't try to make them feel bad for constipating a baby on purpose. I try to give them info on bonding while bottle feeding because in the end, I'm not there to judge anyone, but I am there to be an advocate for the baby.

Discussions were had over fear of making mothers feel guilty. Although no one would feel bad telling a pregnant woman that smoking could harm her baby, and encouraging her to quit, for some reason telling a mother the truth about formula and breast milk, and trying to help her breastfeed is off limits for some. I'd think in both cases the approach would be what mattered.

Everyone knows that we're supposed to eat lots of fruits and vegetables and exercise regularly, but most of us don't do that either. I don't think we have the overwhelming guilt about it though. Why? Maybe because there is something so personal about our babies, and our mothering. We love these little people, usually more than we love ourselves, and we so want to do a good job, that it's really hard to hear messages about things we didn't do. Even when the bearer of the message is kind, they still represent something, and in some cases, I think it is regret.

Most people are not going to respond well to a guilt trip, but that doesn't mean they don't deserve factual information to make an educated choice for their family and professional support when they need it. I wonder how many moms have received bad information that led to problems or made them worse, and grieve over the fact that they feel ripped off? I've met a lot, and that makes me angry, not at the moms, but at the fact that the bad advice is so prevalent, at the culture that makes it hard, and at the formula companies for their sneaky and deceptive marketing.

I've been vocal in my criticism of formula marketing in the same way that I'm critical of tobacco marketing. That doesn't mean I'm judging all smokers or formula feeders- I have friends and family who have been smokers, and I know wonderful mothers who have formula fed.

Perhaps the name callers have met some overly enthusiastic breastfeeding advocates? I guess I have trouble picturing a military policing attitude being the norm in the field, but I'm sure there are exceptions.

In any case, I think it's a reminder for everyone who deals with now moms to make sure we treat every one of them with respect, no matter her choices. I am thankful to be able to say that I think the ladies I work do. They are about the farthest thing from Nazi's I can imagine. I agree with the woman who wanted to take home my supervisor- these are the women that I would be glad to have be the aunties and grandmas to my own kids.

Amoebas, Pinworms, and Other Parasites I Don't Recommend Studying

There's nothing like a wonder filled conversation about parasites to freak out an entire family. I have a tendency toward freaking about certain things anyway, and things that suck the life out of people, like bacteria, viruses, and most certainly parasites, are high on my list of freak worthy things.

So, when a friend told me that she didn't let her family swim in lake waters of Texas because there were brain eating amoebas, I was a little disturbed to say the least. I had never heard of such a thing, and to tell the truth, it sounds a little a bad sci-fiction movie. On the other hand, you never know...and my family swims in lake waters all the time, not in Texas, but still, what if the amoebas migrated in someone's dirty swim trunks, and ended up in a lake near us?
To make it worse, my kids heard the conversation, and when we got home, they began asking questions. They were a little concerned as well about the prospect of little critters that crawl up your nose to feast on your brain tissue, so I thought I could comfort them with the truth. Like any good homeschooling family, we got busy with research, starting of course with the internet.

Well, let me tell you, there are a lot of different parasites out there, and there is a whole lot of information on them as well- including numerous magnified pictures of the nasty little things! I thought about including some, but decided that I didn't want to do that to other people, as images of parasites are truly mind scarring, and could result in the need for some sort of therapy to remove. For those of you who are curious and want to go investigate for yourselves, I am providing a disclaimer right here- it may be frightening and disgusting, and you may never be the same. I don't recommend it, and I can't be held responsible if you just have to check it out.

As for the parasites themselves, according to many sites (who happen to sell herbal anti-parasitic medications) the little wigglers are prevalent in humans worldwide, even in developed countries like the United States. Beyond amoebas, there are worms and flukes. Some are more common than others, but they all are incredibly freaky.

I tried to focus on research based information from professional medical organizations, to weed out the sales pitches, but even that didn't calm the sense of dread. Thankfully, we have one thing in our favor- we wash our hands a lot. Yet in the face of the reality that these horrid little species have been finding ways to suck the life out of other creatures since the beginning of time, and that they mutate to find new ways to survive, are good hand washing skills enough? We could still be parasite candidates on a number of levels. We have not only dogs and cats, but also goats and chickens, and we interact with them, up close and personal, on a very regular basis. We pet them, clean up after them, and come into contact with their messes more often than I like! We walk barefoot at the creek! We travel, including to foreign countries, and we swim in lakes! We play in the dirt and garden with our bare hands! We drink well water! Good grief, the list goes on and on...

We could be infected and not even know it, too! Side effects can include insomnia, (I'm sleepless) moodiness, (yep) and upset stomach (mine hurts just thinking about this.) My kids have inherited my hypochondriac ability to read things into every symptom- we're like a bunch of medical students convinced we have every bizarre new ailment we read about. They became paranoid too, linking everything to the possibility of parasites. The confirmation of parasites however, involves procedures none of us wanted to consider. The kids did learn that there are many careers in the medical field that they do not wish to pursue though. I suppose it's a good thing that someone decided to go to college in order to identify these unpleasant things so they can be treated, but none of us feels drawn to helping mankind in that particular way.

The kids wondered if we should stop swimming in the lake, even though having lakes nearby is one of the things that makes living in a blazing hot summer climate bearable. So, we talked statistics, and did some estimating of our own. It's always good to be cautious, but the probability of amoeba infection is probably slim. Public pools and water parks have their own gross dangers. We swim lots of places too, and in fact could also get attacked by a shark or an alligator, or even a killer jellyfish. Knowing these dangers exist as well isn't exactly reassuring- actually, it just gives us more to worry about. But the reality is that none of these things is very likely to happen- sure they could, but they probably won't. If we knew a body of water was infected, whether it be full of sharks or amoebas, we'd skip it, but I don't want to skip having fun and enjoying exploring the rest of the world because of it. There are a lot of random what ifs, and possible dangers in the world, but there are also a lot of wonderful experiences to be had. I guess we just have to decide what the risks are to things, and whether the benefits are worth it. We'll still swim in our lakes, but I think my kids will be keeping the water out of their mouths now that they've seen what might might be in it.

For now, I've decided to just halt our little unit study on parasites. There are some things we just don't need to know any more about, and overall, the more we learned, the more it freaked us all out. I think we'll be happier if we're learning and enjoying the world (in a safe way) rather than feeding our fearfulness. We might be washing our hands a little more often though.

Our Many, Mini-Adventures Quest

My newest scheme of the month is to incorporate more mini-adventures into our homeschooling lives. This isn't exactly a new thing- just something I want to consciously put a little more effort into. I think my entire family has been feeling restless lately- feeling a little too bogged down by the every day, and ready to hit the road and check out new things. I love having our home to come back to, but I also love seeing new things, meeting new people and going new places, and right now, my inner vagabond is calling again.
My whole family is full of travel dreams- we have been for years, and I think as homeschoolers, we should make every effort to take advantage of the freedom we have with our time and learning schedules, and have as many hands on learning adventures as we can.

My crazy husband wants to sail around the world. Unfortunately for him, none of his family shares that dream. The kids and I are more into sailing in calm, tropical locations or on lakes, while always in sight of land. Weeks at sea, and I am sure I would lose my mind and throw someone over board. Since it would probably be my husband I tried to make walk the plank, and he is both bigger than me and the only real sailor in our bunch, it does not sound like the best idea. But, we could try flying to destinations, meeting him there, and sailing around small island chains. We haven't figured out how to fund such a thing, but that's OK. We haven't figured out how to fund my travel schemes either.


What I would really love is to take a cross country trip, and see all the states with my kids. The rich history, the National Parks- it's a homeschoolers dream come true. We often look at the US map, plotting and marking places we want to go, things we want to see, and cities with friends or family that we might stay a night or two with. Six months on the road in a small motor home would be wonderful. Nothing too big where I couldn't park or change lanes- just big enough for the four of us to sleep, eat and shower. If we can't pull that off, I would settle for four months in a camper van. Heck, we'll take a month with tents if that's all we can swing- we just want to do it! I want to see this great country that I live in- and, I'd really like to do it before my children are as large as me. There is a benefit to traveling by car or staying in tents with people who take up less physical space, and since my kids won't stop growing, I can't wait forever, so I need to figure out how to make it happen.

Other big dreams we have include traveling Europe by train, studying Spanish in Costa Rica or Guatemala, and visiting relatives in South America and Africa. Again, I have no plans for how to pay for these dreams either, but I can't let that stop me from dreaming. We all need dreams to keep the everyday responsibilities from sucking the life out of us, but we also need to find a way to work towards our dreams. If we never pursue them, they lose something, and so do we.

The thing is, if exploring the world is what we want, we do have a big chunk of the world right here around us, and we haven't even begun to scratch the surface. So my short term sights are set on places closer to home, and trying to squeeze in plenty of mini-adventures we can do right now, while we're figuring out the bigger adventure plans. Luckily, there are mountains, lakes, beaches, and cities galore, all within a short drive, and not requiring huge chunks of time or money. Exploring our state alone could probably keep us busy for quite a while. We're checking out maps, brochures and websites, and driving my husband nuts asking "Want to go here next month? How about here?" It may not be New York or Washington DC or Europe, but the kids will still be learning about history, art, nature, culture and science. They'll also be learning resourcefulness, and having fun.

Years ago, a wise woman once told me "Honey- you've got to bloom where you're planted."
Apparently, I'm not planted in the pages of a glamorous travel magazine at the moment, but in the foothills of Northern California. It's a pretty nice place to be, and I think I'll follow her advice, and bloom right here for now.

What Would Jesus Do About Health Care Reform?

It's a question I have been thinking about for weeks, and one I would like to pose to other people of the Christian faith. What do you think Jesus would do about healthcare reform? I am not trying to start an argument, although based on how heated the recent debates over this subject have become, I will probably offend someone. But, that really isn't my intention. What I'm hoping for is some serious thought about the question. I don't quite understand the anger and fierce resistance to the idea of making sure every citizen of our country had access to healthcare, particularly from those who are followers of Jesus. Along with feeding the hungry, and caring for the poor, I am pretty sure we are supposed to be taking care of the sick too. Is leaving it to private companies who are clear about their primary mission being monetary gain and who regularly cancel or refuse coverage to the sick the right way to show we actually care for each other? While there are arguments about the exact number, by all accounts there are tens of millions of Americans who have no health insurance. So tens of millions of people in one of the richest countries in the world can't necessarily get the treatment they need if they are sick or injured, or to keep well for that matter. The reason most people I know don't have insurance is cost- unless you have an employer who pays a portion, it is just too expensive. There is a huge gap of people who are not poor enough for Medi-Cal, but don't make enough to pay insurance premiums, especially if they are unlucky enough to have a pre-existing condition. The private companies don't seem to have a big interest in making it affordable, so that leaves many of us with nothing.

In the same newsletter in which Congressman Wally Herger shoots down the idea healthcare reform that includes any public option because it would cost taxpayer money, he touts the reasons we should use our taxpayers money to build a fence along the Mexican border. My Representative's attitude does not represent me in the case, nor my family, and certainly not the Christian faith in my opinion. My primary concerns in life are not illegal immigration or homeland security. Sure, they are problems too, but the possibility of losing everything if one of our family members was to have a serious illness is much more of a concern for me. I think the lack of access to healthcare is something that actually does affect many more American's on a daily basis than those other priorities. How can a country with the wealth and resources we have not consider the health of it's people as a priority?

The fear of a public healthcare option is something else I am not understanding, particularly from people who have no issue whatsoever sending their children off on a daily basis to be educated in a publicly funded school. The government has access to most of our children's minds every day, but people are terrified at the thought of government involvement in healthcare. Most people drive every day on public roads and I don't hear anyone yelling about the evils of socialist highways either. I think the key word is option, we want an option for people who have none. Will lots of people take the government up on the option? Probably so if they like it better than what they have now. But if what they have now was so great, why would they switch? Many people still choose private schools, charter schools or homeschooling for their children, but every child has access to education because we have publicly funded schools. I privately homeschool my children, but I definitely want the best possible public programs out there for the millions of kids who use that option.

Back to my original question; What would Jesus do about healthcare reform? While I am far from a Biblical scholar, I do know that he unequivocally told us to love one another- in fact to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. I don't think he would spend his resources building a fence to lock out the poor rather than using that money to make sure the sick were taken care of and trying to keep people healthy. I think he would support working together for change (even with your enemies, which some people seem to consider anyone they did not vote for) I think he would want us to find ways to show we care about each other, not just ourselves. I think he might just be sick over the hostility and anger as well. While I firmly do believe in the separation of church and state, if a person is of faith, then they should be considering that in their choices, their words and their actions. Sometimes the loudest voices representing Christians don't seem to follow in his footsteps. I hope I am not completely off base with this long winded rant, but as I said, it's been on my mind for a while now. I am just really hoping that people who believe will prayerfully consider the path that Jesus would take here. I hope that soon we can figure out a way to stop yelling, and start figuring out ways to make things better.

Controversy over a Breastfeeding Doll?

No, I do not listen to Fox News, but someone at work sent this to me and I thought the angry reactions were interesting. A doll that “allows” girls to pretend they are breastfeeding. Some folks seem to be rather upset by the idea, saying that it could traumatize young girls, or lead to teen pregnancy. I work with lots of teen moms, and while most got into the situation by accident, I've met a few who just wanted a baby to love. I've never met one who got pregnant because they were so excited about the idea of breastfeeding though. I'd say many of them are afraid of, or at least freaked out by the idea.

Besides, when a mother with more than one child is breastfeeding the baby, surely the older ones are aware of the fact. So it's not like the doll is introducing the concept. It's just a normal part of having a baby. And how is feeding a baby an "adult concept" anyway? Personally, I find it amusing to think that kids need a special doll to let them pretend to breastfeed. My kids (both male and female) were perfectly happy to pretend to nurse stuffed bears, giraffes and elephants in addition to baby dolls. This is not because any of these toys were marketed that way, but because we hung out with families who had breastfed babies. It wasn't a big deal because they saw it all the time in everyday life. When a baby cries, someone picks them up and takes them to the mom to nurse, then the baby is happy. It's pretty simple really, and they never felt the need for a cover up either.

Food for thought...

I wonder how much of America realizes that much of what makes up their diet is no longer actually even real food? It's full of high tech, pasteurized, processed, chemical filled "food products," that have very little relationship to anything in the natural world. Sadly, as a nation, we continue to open our big mouths and stuff it in, wondering why we have such high rates of obesity, heart disease, diabetes and other health problems. Thinking about what we put into our bodies is probably one of the most important and obvious steps we can take towards health care. Here's a few easy tips... "froot" products are not actually fruit, and "cheez" is not the same as actual cheese. If you can't read it, you might not want to eat it, and petroleum by products are probably not good for you or your children to consume.

I am hopeful though, because there are people with the power of voice who are willing to speak up. The message is making it's way into the media. And, hopefully every day, more people will stop to think before they swallow the load of manure being sold and served up as dinner. I'm looking forward to the movie Food Inc. this summer which will undoubtedly sum it up better than I possibly could.