Budding Environmentalist

Brennan is terrified of public restrooms. He actually refuses to use any toilet other than the ones in his own home. It's probably because he had a few traumatic experiences with public toilets as he was going through potty training. They were mostly my fault and they have been duly added to the already heaping mound of things I feel guilty for as a mother. You can imagine with 4 kids just how big that pile is....it's a miracle I get out of bed every day!

Technically he's been potty trained for a couple of months but he still wears a diaper when he goes to the babysitter's house three days a week.....just in case. He has amazing bladder control and can usually hold it the whole time he's there (4-6 hours) but in the event he couldn't any more, I'm pretty sure we'd be looking for a new child care arrangement.

He does great when we go to the store, stop by my office or watch one of Carter's soccer games. If he does have to go, we just find a tree or a bush, hopefully in a secluded place, and he takes care of business.

This morning, an absolutely gorgeous morning, I ran with the mini muffins to one of our favorite parks. Everyone was happily playing, sharing toys and such when all of a sudden Brennan yells at the top of his lungs "I HAVE TO PEE!!" and starts to pull down his pants. There were lots of parents and kids there so fortunately I was able intervene and usher him to the edge of the park where there were lots of trees. He had quite a bit of business to take care of and I may have said something like "Wow! That's a lot of pee." He said "The tree is very thirsty."

In the state of denial

So yesterday I'm up at the crack of dawn (Yes, the crack of dawn. No, I'm not exaggerating!) pushing Brennan's pee-soaked sheets into the washing machine when I hear Carter go into the bathroom and start taking a shower. That was unusual thing #1. Carter takes regular showers, just not at the crack of dawn. He's like most 15 year old boys in that he rolls out of bed 30 seconds before it's time to get in the van and go to school.

He comes into the laundry room after his shower and says "Mom, I don't have anything to wear." That would be unusual thing #2.

We go through each of his shirts and they are rejected for various reasons: too short, wore that 2 days ago, looks like a long sleeved "Beater," WAY too big, etc. He asks me if I have any plain white T-shirts he could wear. OK, something is definitely up!

I finally coax him into wearing one of the previously rejected shirts, some Levis and his black Converse. He looks good to me but he's still fussing about how loose the shirt is.

I say "Don't worry. I'm sure she already knows how awesome you are."

He says "Mom. I don't know what you're talking about."

Befy update #1

Bethany's been in Venezuela for almost 3 weeks. You may be wondering why I haven't written about her before now. Honestly? I don't think I could have completed the task without crying, and the tears would have been so copious the computer would have shorted out.

Because her departure is so thorough (none of that "in and out" with the first few years of college) I went through a process that I'm sure is akin to losing a loved one through death. At times I felt ridiculously silly for finding some of her hair and crying over it. Hair, that when she was here, would activate that "irritated mom" tone of voice and facial expression. You know the one....the one that activates the adolescent whining about how much their parents "yell" at them.

I started the long, arduous process of cleaning up her room a fews days after she left. Bethany herself looks sweet, clean and put together, but trust me....it ends with her personal grooming. Each time I went in there, I could stay as long as it took to find one of her poems or something and then the water works would start. It's taken a long time to finish her room.

My missing her was bad enough but then I got an e-mail from her the first Sunday morning stating she was so homesick and unhappy that she was thinking about coming home. She sent this e-mail to both her parents and after we had a parental conference, we agreed that her dad would call her that night, and I would call her the next day, on her 18th birthday. She was happy to hear from us but when I called, she wasn't able to talk for a bit because she was crying. It took everything I had to keep myself from encouraging her to come home. I didn't, of course, because if she DID come home, she would come to regret her decision and resent me for influencing her.

She's doing MUCH better now. During our last phone call she asked me to not call more than once a month. Those are the rules for communicating that Rotary established. We can write as much as we want. It only takes a letter 2 weeks and $.90 to reach her.

She started school yesterday. National law requires that all school children wear uniforms. This is what they look like:
She has to wear the tan polo and navy blue pants. She was disappointed that it wasn't the type of uniform that Japanese girls wear to school:

You have NO idea how relieved I am!!
I got a message from Bethany today that at school everyone was nice, helpful and that the hideous uniform didn't hide her from the boys. She had lots of invitations to parties, the movies and to play pool. She also told me she'd gotten a mani/pedi and had gone to a salsa dance class. I think she's going to be just fine.

Some general info about her whereabouts: Her host family is made up of a mom, dad, and 12 year old sister. They also have a 17 year old son who is an exchange student to France this year. Bethany says her host family is "great." They speak VERY little English and I speak VERY little Spanish, so my phone calls to her have been interesting, to say the least! The family lives in a town called Carrizal which is in the state of Miranda. It's about 30 miles southwest of Caracas. Maybe you knew this but I didn't -- the island of Aruba is right off the coast of Venezuela.

Here are some pictures of Caracas. I couldn't find any of Carrizal, but hopefully Bethany will send some soon.
She's created a blog to post pictures and weekly updates of her experiences. She hasn't updated the blog since she left the States but then her host family doesn't have Internet connection. She's been writing to me, her dad and her boyfriend Michael whenever she can get to an Internet cafe. Here's the address to her blog in case you want to keep up with her when she starts posting:

http://befyinvenezuela.blogspot.com/

BTW, "Befy" is what Brennan calls her. We think it's cute and it's a lot easier and quicker to say than "Bethany."

3 X a week

I try hard to get out and run 3-4 times a week. How do I do this with 4 kids, you ask? Why, I drag the mini-muffins along! I'm mostly successful if I don't care too much about some whining about turning off the TV and tantrum throwing -- Logan doesn't liked to be strapped down. It also helps to take drinks, snacks, toys and break up the run with a stop at a park.

This is what we take with us on a typical run.....yes, pepper spray and juice ARE an odd combination. I take pepper spray because you never know how many dogs or hooligans you're going to run into. There's a lot of them.....dogs, not hooligans. Anyway,what you don't see here is the cinch sack full of Brennan's stuff that goes with him everywhere during his waking hours. It's the same stuff that gets lined up on his bed every night. Yes, it's a lot of stuff....but worth it (see this post).



I got the double jog stroller for $85 at a yard sale in early June. If you know anything about how much those things cost you know what a STEAL that is! Besides my running shoes, it's the best chunk of money I've spent on this endeavor.

The Iceman Cometh

According to the calendar, today is officially the first day of fall and the autumnal equinox -- equal amounts of daylight and darkness. I pay close attention to these things, not because I'm a practicing Wiccan, but because I have a really, REALLY hard time during the winter. By DSM-IVtr criteria I could be diagnosed with SAD (seasonal affective disorder). Last winter was especially bad as it was the first time I have stayed at home, almost full-time, with two VERY little children. Stuck in the house with toddlers and poop for weeks on end.....can't imagine why I got depressed!

When Bethany and Carter were toddlers, I was a full-time graduate student and we lived in Athens, Georgia. It snowed twice in the six years that we lived there. The University of Georgia closed campus for two days even though the snow had all melted by noon of the first day. On New Year's Eve you could easily do all your reveling outside, so I really didn't have a problem with winter until we moved to northern Illinois in 1994.

I remember the first snowfall in DeKalb that winter. My colleague Beth and I stood at the window and watched the fluffy, soft flakes floating down. She'd graduated from UGA too and asked me if I thought we better get to the store and stock up on provisions in case we got snowed in. Looking back now, that's pretty funny as DeKalb knows how to handle it's snow. Compared to UGA, Northern Illinois University only closed campus once in the six years I was there, not because of snow fall, but because it was so cold the gas lines on the university buses froze and couldn't transport students around campus. If you think about it, it has to be pret-ty damn cold to freeze gas lines.

That first winter was kind of fun because Christmas really felt like Christmas, and I got to buy a winter coat that was all white with gray fur around the hood -- it made me feel like one of those Russian models. But the first "spring" (if you want to call it that) just about killed me. In my mind, spring kicks in sometime in late March, early April. In northern Illinois, the week to ten days of spring usually arrive in late May, a little sheepishly like a party guest who couldn't decide whether or not to accept the invitation and then says "what the hell. I guess I'll go" and comes traipsing in when things are just starting to wrap up. The snow usually stopped in early April but the gray, cold drizzle went on and on and on. It went on forever. I can't remember a single commencement or Mother's Day that was warm and sunny.

Moving 150 miles south has certainly helped. There's a definite spring here with a gradual warming of temperatures, blooming of traditional spring flowers like tulips and daffodils, and sun. It helps. But for about the next six months I will still have to take my little blue pill once a day, exercise like a demon, and turn on all the lights, even the hideous fluorescent one in the kitchen, to keep me from killing myself or a family member (I'm being hyperbolic here....please don't call DCFS).

It could be a lot worse. I have a client who has one of the worst cases of SAD that I have ever seen, either personally or professionally. Besides Prozac and individual therapy with me, we have come up with a long, long list of tools and resources to help her get through the winter. They include aromatherapy, acupuncture, massage, yoga, mindfulness, cognitive restructuring, a light box, journaling, and exercise.

Working with her has been one of those personal/professional intersects that happens a lot in my line of work. In therapy-speak it's called an "interface issue" or for traditionally trained folks...."countertransference." It's one of those junctures where I wonder if I should self-disclose my personal experience with the same issue (I have with this client). At the very least I wonder about each of the tools to fight SAD and think about using them myself.

I think mindfulness would be one of the best tools for me right now. A couple of weeks ago I smelled that autumn smell in the air (you know the one) and found myself slipping down, down into a dark place. It didn't help that Bethany had just left home for a year and I missed her terribly (still do). I usually enjoy autumn so much but this year my mind keeps jumping ahead to the dead of winter. Mindfulness will help me stay with what's right in front of me, and enjoy it. But check back with my in January.

Help me choose

I got a small tattoo on my lower back about 7 or 8 years ago. I was living in Chicago at the time, still sort of fresh from my divorce and it was just something I wanted to do. (No, I don't regret it). This is what I got then:

It's the star sign symbol for Libra.

Jen came into the city and she accompanied me to a reputable place in Lincoln Park for the painful yet strangely exciting procedure. She already had one so she knew the ropes. Afterward we tromped around in that hip Chicago neighborhood, her having a great time, me worried what kind of reaction the tattoo would get from the guy I was with. He didn't express much either way -- just goes to show ya!

Ironically, I wasn't worried as much about George's reaction. We met on-line so our relationship began with e-mails. At one point, knowing I liked him so far, I decided to reveal the tattoo. I ended an otherwise chatty and light message with a PS: "So, what do you think about tattoos?" Back then I didn't know him well enough to realize his understated response hid a bit of panic. He has worked in the medical field long enough to see some pretty freaky stuff. When he saw mine he said "oh, that's not too bad." He told me later that he thought I might be covered with them on the more private parts of my body, like the woman who had serpents (see the "s" on the end, there?) tattooed to look like they were coming out of her vagina. She had told him, while he was hooking her up for her sleep study, that the snakes were there to scare off the bad ones.

I've wanted another tattoo for a while now, but as you may imagine, George has been a bit hesitant. He keeps saying things like "it's your body." We all know that's true but he's the one stuck looking at it day after day. He finally agreed that if it wasn't too big or tacky and was in a place that wasn't weird or readily seen by everyone, it would probably be ok with him.

So, I've been looking at some ideas and would like some input. Below are 4 choices.


This is a Triskele, a very ancient symbol representing the three cycles of life. The green symbol is a prettier variation of it.

I'm a big fan of the sun. This one would just be the top image without the box.

The last is the Celtic symbol for motherhood. There would be a dot added for each child.

The Media Machine strikes again!

Evey night before Brennan gets in bed, George and I have to make sure that he has all of his "stuff." The "stuff" getting the honor of going to bed with Brennan changes from day-to-day, but there is always a core group of items that are essential. Below is the line-up from last night:

Any guesses on which movie is currently influencing this child? Maybe the shot below will give a few more hints.....


While Brennan was brushing his teeth he moved his inner circle of favorites right next to him. There's big Lightming Aqueen, little Lightming Aqueen, and Chic Hicks, who Brennan calls "Cachigga." This doesn't surprise me that much because most little kids have their favorite things that they drag everywhere with them -- Brennan just has a large sack full.

What really gets me is that this kid, who LOVES to be naked, if allowed would go anywhere and everywhere naked, and has refused pjs since he could throw a tantrum when we tried to put them on him, now wants to wear pjs to bed AND clothes during the day.....as long as it's a Lightming Aqueen shirt. We finally broke down and bought two sets of Cars pjs so that we could wash his Cars shirt at night.

Way to go, Pixar!

Do you people have any kids of your own???

As a therapist, I get lots of catalogs of resources and tools in the mail. I got one yesterday called Creative Therapy Store." Most of the products are designed to be used with kids. Here are some examples:

Exploring My Anger for ages 5-12

Peacetown: A Conflict Resolution Game for ages 7-12, (YAWN). Or the ever popular

Escape from Anger Island (for grades 1 to 5) that looks like a board game version of Survivor. Then there's

The Good Mourning Game

which looks like a game for Wiccan children , and

Teen Sense

which, honest to God, was designed for teens.....yes, 13 to 18 year olds! Come on!! Just look at that game board! Can you imagine any teenager with an IQ above 90 that would find that the least bit interesting?!

The designers and marketers of these games.....what are they thinking? Who ARE these people anyway?? It's scary to me that professionals would be so out of touch with what kids would find interesting.

Before I went into private practice I worked at the Youth Service Bureau in DeKalb, Illinois which serves kids 8-18 and their families. There was a pair of brothers that Paul (another therapist at YSB) and I worked with. These boys, who were 8 and 10 at the time, were in foster care because their mom was an alcoholic and their dad had been murdered. You might say they'd seen a lot in their short lives.

Paul and I worked really hard to come up with ways to connect with them and find things to do during the sessions that would keep them busy and would get them talking. YSB had an activity/ supply closet so we went in there and grabbed a bunch of stuff -- cool little fiddly toys, balls with suction cups that would stick to the wall and then "walk" down it, etc. We put the stuff in a bucket and presented it to them as the "Bucket o' Fun." I knew it was sort of cheesy but I was trying to be light and playful. The 10 year old, without missing a beat, says "looks more like the Bucket o' Dumb."

It's a good thing we didn't come in with the "Imagine" game (for ages 6 and up) or this "magical, wand-wielding wizard" that Creative Therapy Store promises will bring "Imagine" to life.














Are these people serious?? The really crazy thing is that these games typically cost $50 or more! That wizard scares me. He's worse than the Chucky doll.

Tough

I've had a number of minor (very minor) injuries since I started running. It started with a left hip/butt pain that turned out to be some issue with my SI (sacroilliac) joint. It mysteriously went away after a while.


Then there was a series of very painful blisters on my insteps that (thankfully) went away after getting some amazing consultation and different shoes from Body and Sole.


The one below is unusual because I really didn't know it was there until I noticed that my toe was black and realized that the vague soreness I'd been feeling in my toes was probably due to this:


No, that's not dirt on the second toe.... it's a bruise. Apparently this kind of thing can happen from your toe hitting the top of your shoe over and over....like when you run. The bruise is unsightly but at least my polish is pretty!

My most current frustration is a thingy in my right calf. I can't tell if it's a sort-of-shin-splint, an achilles tendon issue that's running up into the calf muscle, or something else altogether. It hurts here....


and it has for weeks. I've tried icing, anti-inflammatories, and elevation. It hurt so bad after I ran the Arcola 5 K that I gave in and tried the last resort -- not running. I took a whole week off which was very, very hard. You'd think that I'd want to stop running because it hurts, but the only thing that has even briefly made me consider quitting was my Arcola 5K time. (It's not that bad, but I'm not happy with it.) A lot of people experiencing chronic pain would at some point consider consulting a medical professional. Not me....I'm convinced that if I go see a doc, s/he is going to recommend not running. Unthinkable!!

It's not the actual running that I enjoy. Wait. That's not true either. There are moments that I'm saying to myself "hey! this is ok!" But more often, in the middle of a run, all I want to do is lay down, right now and right here! and stay there for a week.

The "after glow" and the widely reputed "runner's high" do provide important pay-offs for me. But the reason I keep running and wanting to run, even though it causes chronic pain, is the way I feel strong and invincible -- like I could KICK SOMEONE'S ASS (if need be) after I'm done. Well, after I've caught my breath, stopped sweating, and stretched, iced, elevated and drugged myself.

Last vestiges of my flower garden

Autumn approaches.....

How the genders differ

One day George and I were doing our usual things around the house. Stuff like breaking up fights, scrubbing dried pasta sauce off the wall, and fixing the ice dispenser on the fridge (I was doing the scrubbing, he was doing the fixing). To make the situation lighter and more enjoyable, we were also having a good round of banter -- you know, that witty, playful, teasing that you can do with someone you know really well.

Everything was going along nicely, the scrubbing, the fixing, the fighting, and then it happened.....the banter took a slight turn towards the serious. I'm thinking "oh, we're getting to some good stuff." George gives a side nod towards the fridge and says "I'm going back there, where it's less complicated."

What's Cookin' Wednesday

Every year we've been together, George and I take the muffins to the local orchard, usually around my birthday in early October. Bethany wanted to go before she left for Venezuela so we went early this year. Going early was good for two reasons: 1) we'll go twice this year so we can get pumpkins, and 2) we picked apples which are usually done for the season by the time we go.

The recipe for this week is one George's favorites. You already know he's a big fan of chocolate cake
but this is nearly an equally matched rival. Kind of like, if you put chocolate cake and apple cake in the ring together, apple cake could almost take chocolate cake. I know this because last night I made him a proposition. I said "I'll trade you giving the kids a bath and putting them to bed (it was my turn) for apple cake." He actually seriously considered it.....for about 2 minutes. I'm not sure what he would have done if I'd offered chocolate cake. Maybe I should try it and find out.

Apple Cake

1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup butter
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
2 ½ cups whole wheat flour
1 tsp cinnamon
2 cups chopped apple

Topping
½ cup sugar
½ cup brown sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
½ cup chopped nuts
½ cup coconut

In a large bowl, cream butter. Add sugar, brown sugar, eggs, buttermilk, baking powder, baking soda, flour, and cinnamon; mix well.

Stir in apples. Pour batter into a greased 13X9 baking pan and sprinkle with topping.

Bake 40 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.

THOSE were the days!

One of my clients sent me this ad. We've been talking about body image and how women struggle with achieving the "ideal" look, whatever it may be at the time. Ironically, the "before" woman on the left would probably be considered chubby by today's standards.

Although I'm by no means "willowy," and never will be, thanks to running I'm close to the lowest weight I've been since college. And even though my resting heart rate, cholesterol, and blood pressure are "excellent" (according to my doc), all I can think about is how fat I am because my BMI puts me in the "overweight" category. I just want to send a big shout out to the media for so shaping my thoughts and attitudes that I ignore how strong and healthy I am and focus on how thin and willowy I'm not.

Scenes from the airport

Much hugging was done by me of Bethany. The jacket she's wearing is attire required by Rotary International anytime she's traveling.

She's attached all the pins she's collected from other trips and other Rotary exchange students to it. She'll come back with many, many more. She heard that one guy come back with his jacket weighing 14 pounds because of all the pins!



This is what we got after trying many times to get a shot of me, Bethany and the two little guys. That's Bethany's dad in the plaid shirt. Carter was with us too, but artfully dodged the camera every time.

'By, Befy!

She's Gone

WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!


That's all I have to say about that.

What's Cookin' Wednesday

Occasionally it comes up in conversation that we're vegetarians. People ask questions like "don't you miss meat?" (no) and "how do you get enough protein?" (quite easily, actually) and "what exactly do you eat, then?" The answer to that question will be featured in these weekly posts.

Today we're celebrating Bethany's birthday as she will be in Venezuela for her real birthday (September 10). We have a family tradition that on your birthday you get to have whatever you want for your birthday meal. My chosen meal for about 5 years in a row was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn and green beans. Since mom was a nurse, it wasn't often that we got fried chicken, and of course you had to have 2 vegetables in your meal (although she insisted that corn wasn't really a vegetable -- it was a "starch").

Bethany usually chooses Lentil Soup for her birthday meal. She surprised me today by asking for Split Pea Soup and a potato/cheese/squash casserole, which I will make for her, of course. But in the interest of time and simplicity, I'm going to share the Lentil Soup recipe.

Lentil Soup

1 large onion, coarsely chopped
1 carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbs. extra-virgin olive oil
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. fennel seeds
1 1/2 cups brown lentils
8 cups water
1 small dried red chili (optional)
juice of 1/2 lemon or more to taste
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

In a heavy stockpot or soup kettle, saute onion, garlic and carrot in olive oil until soft. Stir in cumin and fennel and add lentils and water. Add the chili if desired.

Cook until lentils are tender, about 30 minutes. Remove chili. Add lemon juice and taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper as desired.

Serve this over brown rice and with some whole wheat bread you have 22 grams of protein, nearly half the RDA for most women (45 grams).

Soccer Stud

I pledge alligiance

to the country of delicious

Happy Labor Day

Happy Birthday, George!

Today we are celebrating 42 years of my husband's life. He asked for chocolate cake, as he always does, and I had lots of help with the baking.


George also asked for a new apple keyboard to go with his new apple computer, both of which he's wanted for a long, long time. He had lots of help blowing out his candles and opening his present. I think someone else was WAY more excited about this birthday than George was.



Love you, babe. And many more.

A belly-button shall lead

and a tight booty should follow.

That's one of many mantras I chant while running. I also say things like "keep going," "you can do it," and "No, you are NOT going to stop."

The belly-button thing came from the running experts who tell you how to get "Better, Stronger and Faster!" Apparently, you're supposed to imagine your body being drawn forward by your navel. Doing that is supposed to keep all the other limbs and joints in proper alignment for "Better, Stronger, Faster!" running. I think it mostly keeps me from looking like a hunched over old lady.

The tight booty.....well, I'm just hoping for that.