I fell asleep last night once again feeling alone and bereft even though Fix was 6 inches from me. I had spent the better part of the evening trying to get my feelings of anger and resentment under control.

Goddess has taken some very serious steps in her relationship with Big. Steps that has her feeling strong and empowered. She is proud of herself and who she is and I am proud of her as well. Not just for her strength recently but for who she is all around.

She made a few comments yesterday afternoon that led me to understand that while she has taken many steps forward with Big, she is still in a many ways allowing the time he is here in the home to dictate the time she spends with me/us. I was of the mistaken opinion that there would be more we could count on, but it still seems that time spent must still be done in his absence. No sleeping schedule next week until he decides what his plans are…. no time spent in the early morning unless he is leaving early for appointments or excercise. No date this week, home and family have eaten up that time, but he sure as hell is still getting his date Sunday.

It’s ok if life eats into OUR time together, but can always expect exclusive alone time. While we as usual must work around our responsabilities of home and family. She and I, or She and Fix and I can not shut ourselves away for 4+  hours for a private dinner and a movie. We can not set a standing date weekly where it is expected he will monitor the kids in our absence. We can not take hours in the afternoon of private talk time. Every single thing we do MUST be worked around the home and children.

The opportunity to watch a 1 hour Tivo’ed program only happens if we are prepared for it to take 3 hours with NUMEROUS  interuptions. But his time is exclusive, it always has been. I resent that we do not “rank” high enough to be given these same opportunities.

I was told yesterday that he would be leaving very early for a hike this morning and because of that she could come and snuggle in the early morning with us.

I used the expectation of that time together to try to keep my emotions in check last night. And this morning woke at 6 am with an air of expectancy. By 8:30, I got tired fo waiting. It became obvious that he wasn’t going hiking after all and that meant she was were she was “supposed” to be. It is now shortly after 9 and I waffle between wanting to dissolve into tears or throw something.

I am angry as hell at him. He changed, he is the one who doesn’t want this family anymore. The three of us still do, we are still here, we want this. But becasue he changed he feels he gets to have things his way. We will never be anythign more than secondary, we will always come after his needs and wants are filled. And to be honest I am angry a her. Angry  that she is allowing, STILL allowing it to be this way. She tell sme she wants it to be different, but I don’t see it.

He recent actions where she is concerned will make things better for her where there relationship is concerned. Communication paramenters, rules of engagment, and his treatment of her. But I see no changes for us.

She is torn, I see that. She is in the worst place possible, stuck between people who love her. and I understand that she has to make choices and find a blance within herself.

I am a rational being, and i understand all of this….. but it doens’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make me want her less.   I got spoiled. As long as Big and I had a relationship, I was able to be with her. I had to be with him 99% of the time in order to have that time with her but it was ok. Tv time, or talk time or whatever was had while he either joined us or flitted around working or ??? Becasue he was included my time with her was sanctioned.

Now that things are seperate, she has to actually take time “from him” to be with me/us. This is where the trouble all stems from. All he can see is what he doesn’t have when she is with us. BUt he can’t understand what  a lions share he has and what we are missing so that he can have that place with her.

I’m trying very hard to tamp down my expections, and to learn to live with what she can give. I don’t want to be angry or resentful anymore. We get so little time, I would prefer it was spent in peace and happiness.

Temptress

P.S. Once again my anger won. Loving another person can bring our your best and your worst. Lately it seems to be my worst. My resentment has hurt her.  I htink the best I can do is to no longer ask nor expect any thing other than what materializes. Make no plans, create no expectations, just take one moment at a time and be grateful for whatever happens to fall into my lap.

I found this on our EMO daughters website today.
Pretty profound I thought……

“life offers us many choices. But the option to be strong is only given, when being strong is the only choice you have left.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Temptress

The door is closed
I know she is on the other side,
tears streaming down her cheeks,
hurtful words ringing in her ears, demands placed upon her.
I want to rip the door apart,
take her in my arms,
and shelter her from the pain.

But I can not.
I must sit and let the two deal with their troubles.
I wish so much for it all to be diffierent.
For everyone to be at peace with the others.
For each to travel the path that brings them happiness
and compersion to all.

Why when we are hurt do we strive to hurt those we love?
Why when a different path is chosen do we demand others must follow?

I sit now, watching the clock.
The minutes tick by, the door remains closed,
my mind conjours her face contorted in pain.

I hurt for her.
I love her.

When the story of my life is told, “frequently overwhelmed” is not really a phrase I want remembered.  Nevertheless, it seems to be a state in which I often find myself.

There was once a time when I was far busier, my day filled with activities at school, with the children, and at home.  From the time I woke up until the time I went to bed, I was doing – things for others, things for the kids, things for our church or community.

For years, I was the person who arrived at work early with treats for my co-workers, was always prepared for class with full lesson plans, and still worked  hours at home serving my family with clean laundry and wholesome meals.  My kitchen stayed clean, the bathrooms immaculate, and I even had time to connect with friends through the computer.  Bills were paid on time, the kid’s activity fees were covered, and we always had groceries in the house that reflected my carefully planned menus.  We went places and did fun things together.

Of late, it feels everything in my life now is behind the eight ball.  My house is a disaster all the time, clutter is everywhere, and I feel like a family of sardines live in this house that barely fits us and costs way too much for what we’re getting.  We have a stack of bills and daily reminder phone calls to juggle.  My daily routine starts before day break and many days I spend hours in the seat of the family vehicle playing Taxi Driver to those who cannot drive for themselves.

Now I feel like I get nothing accomplished from day to day.  I wake up tired and I go to bed tired while I lay there wondering where the day went and if I’ll be able to look up at any point in my life and be able to offer a list of accomplishments that extend beyond my manic Mondays, frantic Fridays, or wacky weekends.

I spend many days battling my urge to dream of a life more independent; where I am in control of the risks affecting me, and where I can make wise and informed choices before its too late.  I wonder what happened to my energy and my motivation.  I wonder what happened to me.  Few days go by without tears, and most days end with them.  My favorite activity now is lying quietly snuggled against Temptress, hoping sleep will deliver me to a place of peace and serenity before being pulled into another dutiful arena.

We have a new business that we are trying to get up and running.  We are coming to the end of our lease term and should be moving – again – to find something more permanent and stable for our family.  We are nearing the summer months, where the fundamental nature of my existence for nearly three months is spent in an endless pattern between the stove, refrigerator, and sink playing Chief Cook and Bottle Washer to nine children who waiver between boredom and summer hyperactivity. (Would this be a good time to interject my thoughts on year round schooling again?   Nah, I’ll let this one pass…)

There was a time in my life when I would have been advised (and would have probably followed through) to “let go and let God.”  But years later a frustrated me still found discontentment in the journey and realized the problem with laying one’s woes (or the responsibility thereof) at the feet of another.

It would be nice to wake up one morning to find we’d won the lottery, to stumble upon some valuable thing in the attic, or to receive an unexpected IRS rebate in the mailbox.  What I want is for fate to give us a break, for someone to believe in us, to have someone to step in as a benevolent benefactor and give us a step up; just one tiny nudge in the right direction.  Those who say money can’t buy happiness are not giving enough credence to the fact that lack of money can certainly create deficit of contented choices.

What I think I need to do is to get a grip on reality; to take charge and make some decisions that pull me out of whatever funk I’m wearing and get me back into performance mode.  Or maybe, that is the cloak I’m desperately trying to take off.  I wonder if what I think I should be doing is just ingrained obligation bubbling to the top of an otherwise restructured life.

Maybe it is accurate that those who do not truly experience a childhood and adolescence are doomed to seek it later in life; to long for days of freedom and frivolity that were not a part of the growing up years.  The parentified child in me grows uncomfortable with the shackles of the adult life I pursued for so long.  I think I falsely believed that when I chose maturity for myself, I would hold the control for my own life and the power others held against me would suddenly be null.

But what I have found is how much life becomes increasingly more restrictive as we age.  The older I get, the fewer amenable choices remain.  The less I can think of myself and the more I am forced into decisions that echo the wishes of others.  I begin to sink back into the hollows of the endless mind and wonder who the actual author of my life story will become as the pages continue to turn. 

~ the laundry goddess, April 14, 2009

During the entire time Fix was away from home I cried many tears and felt pain and heartache during our difficult times and separation. But somewhere deep in my heart I knew he still loved me and I felt that we would find a way to work it out.
And we did.
Now the pain I feel is unyielding. I feel bereft, cast aside, used, and unwanted. I live in the same house with Big and yet I can not look him in the eye…I avoid it all costs. The pain I feel when my eyes mistakenly lock with his is like no other. I hurt in ways I didn’t think possible and I question daily how I can be so hurt and so angry and yet feel so utterly desolate and crumple into a sobbing heap when I am near him. A mistaken touch when we pass each other in the kitchen or exchange an object is my undoing. I gather my reserves each time I am near him, willing myself to bestrong, sometimes I succeed, others I fail… miserably.
I have two people who do love me and who do want me to be in their lives and accept the love I have to offer them. Why then is this so hard, why can I not just move forward and let him go?
When will the pain stop? When will I make it through a day without tears, without feeling ripped apart?

Temptress

There reached a point almost 2 years ago when the arguing and hurtful words that Fix and I slung at each other were said to hurt. They may have started as a discussion, as a need to be heard and understood, but eventually it would degrade into sarcasm, hurtful barbs and all out meanness. Threats, ultimatums, and cutting remarks became status quo.
I finally reached a point where I was worn down, I couldn’t fight any longer and I felt like my sanity was slipping away. It was during this time when I found safe haven in the bedroom and in the arms of my Goddess. Things would get awful with Fix and I would retreat to her room where I could cry and she would hold me. Where I could breathe again and she would help me find peace inside. She helped me to shore up my reserves so I was ready for the next battle. I know all of this sounds awful, but for a long while there was love between Fix and I, but there was war as well.
Fix and I needed to learn to communicate, to talk without hurting each other, to learn to listen and understand each other. We needed to learn to argue, to debate, not to fight. We were good at fighting; we had to become good at communicating. Big and Goddess were our role models. Their manner of being able to talk out calmly and rationally even the most difficult of subjects was admirable and something I strove to do.
We are not perfect at this new way of communication, and I expect each of us to slip on occasion, but it is both of our goals to work towards open, honest, CALM , communication now and in the future.
The last several months have been very difficult in our home. While there is joy in having our family back together again, we are still being ripped apart. Big and I no longer have a relationship. He wants Fix and I to take our family and leave. He feels we are the reason he and Goddess are having difficulty overcoming their issues. He demands primary status from her and begrudges every moment of time spent with us. He wants all of her and full open poly for himself. He is so fervent in his desire for his wishes to be met that he is slowly and systematically tearing Goddess apart. I see what is happening to them an almost replay of Fix and I. Old issues, old hurts, things from the past have finally become to much for each of them to deal with and he thinks the way to fix them is to pull her to him and away from us. Sounds familiar.
Even more familiar is their manner of disagreement. While there are no raised voices and the majority of their disagreement is behind closed doors, the words are still hurtful, at times meant to demean or belittle, the threats, ultimatums, sarcasm and cutting remarks are like seeing the last 2 years with Fix in movie replay. He demands she talk when doesn’t want to or feels mentally and emotionally exhausted, at times using what could be called guerilla tactics. Sometimes I see the pain in her eyes after a particularly hurtful “talking” session and I want to rail at him, but know that isn’t my place. Goddess is a strong and capable woman, but there is fragility about her. One that makes you want to protect and shield her. I know Big feel that way about her, he an I have discussed it often. So I wonder now, is it pure selfishness to have all of his needs met and act in a way that pleases only him that has caused him to step away from his usual character and treat her in such a manner??
He and I have spoke often of his depth of love for her, he has been moved to tears often in his description of his feelings. I never once question the truth and validity of such. And I still do not. But I do question if he cherishes her; if he loves her in a way that is open and unconditional. I see no compersion from him where she is concerned. He has no empathy for the feelings of others. He seems to simply want things the way he wants them and expects others to conform. I never really saw this side of him until recently and I am truly broken hearted. I have seen him for three years as a rock, an upstanding, honorable, honest (to a fault) and loving man. All things that caused me to fall deeply in love with him.
But recently I wonder if I was blinded by that love. Did I only see what I wanted???
I am still deeply in love with this man; his absence in my life is painful in ways I can’t describe. I hold it together while he is away working, but when he arrives home and walks into the room no amount of self talk keeps me in one piece. I can’t look into his eyes, I can hardly look at him at all without the ache hitting me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. How I can I be so desperately in love with this man when I mean nothing to him I do not know. More still, how could I have been so blind these three years? I thought I brought something to him, I thought I meant something to him. I see now I was nothing more than a means to an end. All of those times we were together intimately I would gaze into his eyes and smile at him I thought the smile I was given back for sincere. I think now it was given for the sake of placation. I was a nice diversion when he needed physical relief. I have heard him say to me the words “I Love you” and yet I now know they were not meant, they were not real. He could argue that he loved me once but that he wasn’t “IN” love with me. How then if that was true… if he really loved me in any form could he toss me aside in favor of the new relationship he had yet to find. How could he demand I take my family and leave if he felt anything for me?
Our littlest was 14 months old when we brought this family together. She knows nothing else. She thinks Big is as much her Daddy as Fix is. He walked thru the door last night after 2 days away and I could hear her from the next room gleefully calling “ Hi Daddy” to him. I had to excuse myself and give in to yet another sobbing session. The pain of seeing him and not being able to be a part of his life other than that of a pariah, and to hear my baby girl call to her “Daddy” in welcome without any idea that he would cast her aside along with the rest of us was crippling to my heart.
I know one day the pain will lessen, I know eventually I can get thru a day with out tears. I know that the family we have all created together can and will be spectacular. And I know that if he would just back off, relax his hold a bit and let Goddess come to him in her time he would be able to find that which he seeks. He would be able to find his peace and live his life in a way that would bless him in many ways and that as a family we could carry on our mission of raising these beautiful children together and receiving more love and happiness than we could ever expect existed.
~ Temptress

After 16 months of a long and arduous separation, it is with a happy heart that I can tell you that Fix will be spending this weekend moving his belongings back into the family home.

These many months have been a time of discovery. They have been filled with tears, heartache, loneliness, anger and sadness. But they have also been filled with love and hope. Both of which have seen us thru until we could once again bring our family back together again.  I think we all learned a few lessons, and found out we are culpable in any situation, there is never one person at fault, nor one person whom you can heap the blame onto.

Fix and I created patterns and made choices early on in our marriage, that looking back I can see were not the best for us in the long run. We became comfortable and complacent in our roles even if they were not the ones that we were happiest with or that fulfilled us. Mistakes were made along the way that over the years just became status quo.  In trying to change  some of those we rocked the boat and created a tidal wave of issues that almost drowned us. I think now we both understand that  the people we became were not the people that we truly were. Both of us put away things that were important in order to create our peaceful lives. Yes marriage is about compromise, but it’s not about losing yourself.

Fix and I both understand now that after 18 years we are different people than were in 1990 and we are getting to know our new life mate. I like the person I have become and I like who I see in him. We are in a good place now and it brings me peace, I hope he is feeling the same.

We all made mistakes in the formation of this quad, we have all paid a price and I like to think that we have all in some small way gained something. Our “quad” no longer looks like it did 3 years ago, the appearance has changed along with the relationships. I think however that no matter how the quad looks or how each relationship has evolved we are all still committed to our families, our loves and our children.

This polyamorous life we have chosen is not easy, but then again nothing in this life worth having is rarely easy to gain. For all of the tears and heartache, the love gained and the family created is so very worth it.

Welcome home my love.

Welcome home.

~ Temptress

Pain in searing waves

Memories of another time betrayed

The words just as fresh

The feeling still as raw

Time does not heal

Nor does laughter make fade

The spears and daggers employed

The wounds and damage reaped

How many tears can one lifetime bring

How many unexpected changes must we traverse

With twisted rationalities

And self serving justifications

Scars and injuries unnoticed

Trading one anguish for another

Unraveling the tapestry once thought majestic

Utopias in devastation

Perhaps the greatest sorrow

Is not sudden tragedy

But so many days outstretched

Each leading closer to extinction

Does it cause pause

Shall one be concerned

For the broken hearts that came before

Or the ones that will follow

What defines the journey

Will it be speed or duration

Or shall we measure adventure

Where frivolity trumps commitment

Ensnarling the heart to a cold and bitter place

Do you hear the band?

Let the parade begin…

~the laundry goddess, February 17, 2009

A friend forwarded this to us today, and after reading it, I’m willing to post it here as another perspective we should consider in the larger debate of “who gets to make choices for the rest of us” controversy.  I am not aware of the author, but the link is given for credit of his original thought.

The original article is here.

A Marriage Manifesto… Of Sorts

By Tom Ackerman
November 17, 2008

I no longer recognize marriage. It’s a new thing I’m trying.

Turns out it’s fun.

Yesterday I called a woman’s spouse her boyfriend.

She says, correcting me, “He’s my husband,”
“Oh,” I say, “I no longer recognize marriage.”

The impact is obvious. I tried it on a man who has been in a relationship for years,

“How’s your longtime companion, Jill?”
“She’s my wife!”
“Yeah, well, my beliefs don’t recognize marriage.”

Fun. And instant, eyebrow-raising recognition. Suddenly the majority gets to feel what the minority feels. In a moment they feel what it’s like to have their relationship downgraded, and to have a much taken-for-granted right called into question because of another’s beliefs.

Just replace the words husband, wife, spouse, or fiancé with boyfriend, girlfriend, special friend, or longtime companion. There is a reason we needed stronger words for more serious relationships. We know it; now they can see it.

A marriage is a lot of things. Culturally, it’s a declaration to the community that two people are now a unit, and that unity should be respected. Legally, it’s a set of rights and responsibilities. And spiritually, it’s whatever your beliefs think it is.

That’s what’s so great about America. As a Constitutionally secular nation, or at least in reality a vaguely pluralistic nation, we can all have our own spiritual take on what marriage is. What’s troublesome is when one group’s spiritual beliefs deny the cultural and legal rights of another.

But, back to the point. They say their beliefs don’t recognize my marriage, I say my beliefs don’t recognize theirs. Simple. It may seem petty, and obviously the legal part of the cultural/legal/spiritual trilogy is flip-floppy, but it may be the cultural part that really matters.

People get married to be recognized as a permanent couple. To be acknowledged by friends, family, and strangers as being off the market, in a relationship, totally hooked up, yikes… it’s impossible to say without saying ‘married.’ We wear rings to declare this!

So, we can take this away. We can refuse to recognize marriage in the cultural sense. It is totally within our rights, as Americans, to follow our beliefs and recognize or not recognize what we like.

I guess this is a call out to all Americans with beliefs similar to mine.

If you believe that all people should have equal rights, and if you believe that marriage is one of the greatest destinations of a relationship, then perhaps you believe that nobody should have marriage until everybody does.

That’s what I believe.

Tom Ackerman is a photographer and art director who lives in New York City. 

The alarm went off at 6:15 am this morning.  I got up, dressed, and without my coffee headed out the door into the dark of morning to partake of my civic rights.  Ten minutes later, Big and Temptress headed out in a different direction to do the same.  Due to a fluke and some laziness on my part, I’m still registered to our former address, while Big and Temptress are voting at the current residence.  We still share all the same districting, but the polling places are different, and due to the fact we will be moving – yet again – come summer, I wasn’t of the mindset to go through the hassles of switching everything up, just to have to do it again in 7 months time.  Anyway, on with the story…

I was in line by 6:35, along with about 250 other people (I heard similar claims from Big and Temptress) and we all stood there feeling very patriotic and somewhat amazed at the turnout for so early in the day.  The line from the voting place wrapped around three sides of an elementary school and into the teacher’s parking lot.  Our state claims that 35% of all registered voters have already cast their ballot prior to Election Day; and with Americans turning out in record numbers, one could already feel the passion wound into this pivotal election.  I waited in line for approximately an hour before I made it to a ballot booth.  I slid in the yellow card and worked my way through the candidates, amendments, and special funding sections.  It took mere moments to complete the process and I stood there looking over the synopsis of my choices.  It was a serene and almost sacred moment as my finger hovered above the “cast now” button.

The Electorals in my state have already made their decision.  According to the media, the election is already decided.  According to every national map I’ve seen, no matter what I chose today, it most likely will not dictate how my state will fall.  There is a most somber moment when you stand for something that may stand for nothing.  The vote I was about to cast, along with that of possibly hundreds in line behind me, was about to be meaningless because the Electoral College was already decided without actually hearing my voice.  So why bother? 

I bother because if I abdicate my choices, I lay down one of the fundamental rights we have as an American.  We don’t have a lot of rights here, just those to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  And the right to PURSUE happiness doesn’t guarantee we’ll ever find it, it just means we can keep on looking.  I think a lot of people confuse a right with a choice.  The American legal society has brainwashed many into thinking Americans have rights that extend far into the realm of personal choice.  (But that is wholly another blog, so for now I’ll digress…)

All these thoughts ran through my head while the finger hovered.  I looked over my shoulder to see several hundred others waiting patiently at the ass crack of dawn for the same privilege I was now taking.  The pad of my finger touched the screen and the yellow card popped back out at me.  Maybe there are a lot of things wrong in this world, maybe we’ve done only a relatively (in)decent job at handling the world we’ve been given, but today I stood up and did something that makes me feel better about myself.  I acted when I could have sat.  Instead of complaining about the problems, I rallied myself to be part of the solution.  Today I, and record breaking others, are speaking out and letting their voice be heard.  May the incoming President and his associates be willing to listen and act on behalf of those of us doing our part in an imperfect system.

I walked in the door at home shortly before 8 a.m.  The kids were in breakfast preparations, running busily about enjoying their day off from school.  As a parent I want to convey to them that we have choices in life; that we can act in ways that make our situation better; and that there are no victims in this life unless we choose to be one.  By tomorrow morning, our country will be in the transitioning hands of new leadership.  I hope the things we do today, make tomorrow better for all of us.

~the laundry goddess, November 4, 2008

A couple of years ago I blogged about M. Night Shyamalan’s movie The Village.  It was a wonderful cinematic effort about intentional communities and the problem with controlling others through fear.  Recently I have seen another movie with an equally riveting ideology, but with different human mistakes.

The City of Ember was released in most major cities last Friday (10-10-08).  The movie is based on a book of the same title by author Jeanne DuPrau.  DuPrau’s premise revolves around a secret underground city set 200+ years into the future after some untold cataclysmic occurrence has basically wiped out life as we know it on the Earth’s surface.  Well, it is presumed Earth, but could be any M class planet. 

The city of Ember was created by The Builders to insure two centuries of life would continue before once again trusting the surface for life support.  But through a series of unfortunate events, the great secret has been lost and now Ember is in dire condition and dying a slow death, unable to support its failing technologies and dwindling food supplies.  Hope comes in the form of two young teens, worried about their future, and uncommonly tenacious in asking the questions The Builders hoped to quell by restricting knowledge.

I learned of this movie through our Emo child, recently turned 14.  She has a passion for fantasy fiction and read this book, along with its companion, The City of Sparks, many years ago.  As I feel I must in many cases, I wanted to read the book before seeing the movie, so said wonderful daughter brought me a copy from the middle school library.  It is a youthful exploration of many adult subjects, and set my mind a’twirling picking apart the black and white of how we as responsible adults make choices about our past and our futures.

Of course, one of my peeves about movies made from books is how Hollywood gets hold of a great concept and then contorts its message in scintillating action and CGI graphics until the original message is hopelessly lost in a mire of adrenaline pumping and mind numbing activity whose only goal is to entertain, not inspire.

I think what I come away with from the exposure here is not so much the travesty of contaminating quality literature with movie style drama, but yet the unforeseeable consequences of people who make choices for other’s lives, even with the best of intentions.

The Builders put a lot of safe guards in place; they thought “they thought of everything.”  What they failed to understand is when you restrict information; you restrict the ability to think as well.  When you teach someone, “that is all there is and nothing more,” most listeners will believe you.  Only the strong will go on to explore and create and ask questions.  And fewer yet will actually DO anything about what transpires in the mind.

To be fully alive we must be taught to think for ourselves, we must be encouraged to probe, to evaluate, to invent, and to continue the process of allowing those who come after us to exceed our expectations.  Holding others to the standards we have of ourselves is nothing more than basic ego run amuck.  To attempt to control another being magnificently born of The Creator, is to second guess the divine intent we will never fully grasp.

As a parent, I am always considering the ramifications of my actions and attitudes on the next generation.  What am I doing through love and concern for their future that may inadvertently cause negative effect for them further down the line?  How am I protecting them now that will limit them later?  And the situation I most want to prepare myself for is the likelihood that any or all of the kids will one day say, “You know that thing (or things) you did?  It was a problem because…”  When that day comes, may I have the inner strength to simply say “I’m sorry” without defensiveness or contrary retort.

Maybe the greatest feat of parenting is not to teach them to keep their elbows off the table or to pick up their socks off the floor, but to aspire to inspire and encourage tolerance and understanding for those things we do not yet comprehend.  And most importantly, respect the rights we all have to make our own choices and indulge the soul an outlet that leads to personal contentment.

I invite you to get your hands on a copy of The City of Ember, and take a day or two enjoying what it felt like as a young person to get lost in an alternative universe.  Of course, you could always opt for the movie version, but you’ll loose a lot of the possibility that lingers only in the mind’s eye.

~ the laundry goddess, October 13, 2008

There’s a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl,
He’s always at home with his back to the wall.
And he’s proud of his scars and the battles he’s lost,
And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross-
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

There’s a place in the world for the angry young man
With his working class ties and his radical plans
He refuses to bend, he refuses to crawl,
He’s always at home with his back to the wall.
And he’s proud of his scars and the battles he’s lost,
And he struggles and bleeds as he hangs on the cross-
And he likes to be known as the angry young man.

~Billy Joel, Turnstiles 1976

~~~~~

As a child of the 80’s, I’m a die hard Billy Joel fan.  For a very long time I would have even used the word “quintessential” in my self description, but my mommy duty of the last twenty years or so has forced me to change my self description in a lot of ways.  I know all his lyrics, all his jazzy interludes, and all his piano diatribes; I can even pick out his music (including the classical variety) in tributary elevator styled renditions.  So it shouldn’t surprise me when this morning I couldn’t get the above song out of my head.  It lodged there about 5 minutes after I hung up from yet another futile phone call with our resident angry middle aged man.

I’m not interested in bashing anyone, but because this blog has become a sort of essay styled diary for me, it’s a good place to wax prophetically about how a person, any person, comes to a place that make our respective perspectives (ok, that was a mouthful, I didn’t do that on purpose) so intrinsically different.

I just finished reading The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd.  Her heroine makes a statement that I find a brilliant observation.  “People can start out one way, and by the time life gets through with them they end up completely different.” ~ August Boatwright

We all start out in different ways, with different families, with different values and morals, with different opportunities, and with different advantages.  But we all have the same potential.  We all get the same 24 hours in a day.  We all get the same rules and rights.  From there our lives become a statement of what we do with what we were given.  So why would someone camp on what’s wrong instead of making something right?

I don’t believe in victimization.  I don’t advocate the woe-is-me’ism so prevalent in our society today.  And more than anything, I don’t support complaints without action.  The plight of the angry young man seems illogical to me, I cannot make sense of it.  So when I should be showing sympathy and support, all I feel is cold and distant.  And I find myself in a place where two wrongs are having a great deal of trouble making a right.

~the laundry goddess, September 29, 2008

I have to admit that recently I’ve been a little bit of a slouch.  I was at one time full of energy with a “to do” list a mile long each day.  Maybe it is the summer time or perhaps it is because even two mommies are swamped by having nine children at home 24/7, but for whatever the reasons of late, I’ve taken to enjoying a mid day break.  Most days I’m judicious with my “spare” time with one or two small exceptions…

There is this mindless reality show on some domestic cable channel called “Clean House.”  It promotes a crew of colorful characters that go into someone’s shameful jumble of a house/life and rally them to sort through their mess in exchange for some professional design and organization.  The result after a weekend of cleaning, a yard sale, and donation of unnecessary junk is three remodeled rooms that are pristine and inviting.

I’m not really certain of the draw this show has for me, other than I can totally relate to the need for structure and order.  That, and the fact that I can understand how one thing can lead to another and before long you realize life circumstances have overwhelmed you and you are mentally mired.  It’s hard to move past the condition to which you’ve become accustomed and put forth the colossal effort to move forward with a fresh slate.  Our messes comfort us in a weird way.

I got to thinking recently about how difficult it seems to be for myself and for others I know to let go of things that seem to interfere in our ability to move forward in life.  Behaviors and attitudes that are inherently adverse to where we want to be long term seem like an illogical choice, but it’s that baggage we carry with us from childhood, from past experiences, or from stubbornness.

I remember a story told to me many years ago that demonstrates this premise:

~~~

Jenny was a bright-eyed, pretty five-year-old girl. One day when she and her mother were checking out at the grocery store, Jenny saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at $2.50. How she wanted that necklace, and when she asked her mother if she would buy it for her, her mother said, “Well, it is a pretty necklace, but it costs an awful lot of money. I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy you the necklace, and when we get home we can make up a list of chores that you can do to pay for the necklace. And don’t forget that for your birthday Grandma just might give you a whole dollar bill, too. Okay?”

By: Author Unknown

~~~

So it is for us with many things in life.  How often do we sacrifice beauty in our lives because we refuse to mature past the cheap trinkets?  How often do we hold onto things when we should let go?

I think many times we grasp so firmly to unhealthy patterns, relationships, habits, or activities because it seems impossible to let go.  Or perhaps we just feel like a second rate something is better than an unlikely nothing.  We are so focused on our rights, or our possessions, or what we deserve in life, that we overlook the abundance that comes from a clutter free existence.

I know more than anyone how hard it is to let go of the familiar for the possibility of something better.  But if we analyze our heart and mind, there is always a measure of clearing and cleaning that needs to be done.  Sometimes, it is so hard to see what awaits us, but I firmly believe when we learn to let go, there is something much better waiting to bless us.

~the laundry goddess, June 24, 2008

“Man cannot discover new oceans until he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.”  ~ Andre Gide

“It’s not because things are difficult that we dare not venture. It’s because we dare not venture that they are difficult.”  ~ Seneca