Today is another day that begins after another restless night. At midnight, I was roused out of a deep sleep by a phone call from my mother, who is in the hospital. Since she couldn't get the nurse to do what she wanted, she called me and wanted me to call her doctor.
I only had his office number. All it would tell me is that if this was an emergency, call 911 and then, most likely, they would take her to the hospital, which is exactly where she was.
So, although I couldn't do anything about it, I lay there contemplating all of the things I could do, might do, for hours. In the morning, I called her to see how things were going.
She had received some relief she said, but not much.
"Is anyone coming today? I need my teeth. You can just stop over at my place and bring them here with a bag of things."
This is a question that tightens my stomach. It's a question that's asked almost every other month, for the past year and a half, which is how often she's been hospitalized during that time period.
As a humorist and mostly motivational speaker, I have abandoned this blog, along with other career projects because of such phones calls and questions and other interruptions related to the care of my mother, too numerous to count.
Today, I read about a women who blogs daily about her spouse's illness and I wonder if I had blogged about my struggles over the past year, would that have been helpful to others? Would it have been helpful to me? Just thinking. . . as I contemplate whether to cancel my meeting to bring my mother her teeth.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Morning Exercise Raised My Bloood Presure
Went to the Y this morning. Exercise can be healthy, unless you're watching the news and happen to catch the story about your Governor being impeached. You may be burning calories, but the anger you feel inside, can't be good for your heart.
Although, that story didn't raise my blood pressure half as much as the one about Drew Peterson, the guy "suspected" of killing two of his four wives. He has announced plans to remarry. The fiance, a 24 year old, is living in Peterson's house with her young children! She says she can't imagine Peterson did anything to those women, because he treats her so well.
Well, now my blood is boiling.
Where do all these powerless, insecure women come from???
The truth is, they come from everywhere.
It's not so much that women have been taught to depend on men for food, shelter and clothing, although historically that's true, but that many of us still believe we can't stand on our own two feet!
We talk the talk, "No man is gonna tell me what to do!" - but we don't walk the walk.
We dismiss our talents and dreams and subsist on "making a living" until some Prince comes along to rescue us.
We've got to stop depending on the Prince! I say we, because I too have depended on a prince to make my life better. We've got it backwards, ladies! We make our lives better both financially and emotionally, the man is only there to enrich our lives. If we don't turn it around, we end up with men like Peterson.
Past generations fought for the right to vote, for equal rights and equal pay, but if young women today are still involved in these types of relatioships, then the right message didn't get across!
The old messages run so deep, we don't even realize it ourselves. This became clear to me when Obama was elected President. I was watching Will Smith on Oprah. As a young boy, Smith said his father instilled in him the possibility that he too could become Presdient. And Smith conducted his whole life with that mindset. It shaped his future.
It was then I recalled the message I had received as a young girl. When my mother and I cleaned the house, I wanted to make it shine and sparkle so that if the President ever came to visit, we would be ready! Smith saw himself as President, I saw myself as the housekeeper of the President!
Don't get caught up in the semantics, ladies. This is not about housekeeping. I know women who run housekeeping companies and they are definitely in charge. It's about how we see ourselves.
Are you powerful or powerless? Do you have the power to lead our own life, embrace your own talents, make your own way, without a man?
If there is one person in your life who is worried about the guy you're currently with, please, please, read this again, and again. If there is more than one person worried about the guy you're with, back away from the prince and get help now.
Although, that story didn't raise my blood pressure half as much as the one about Drew Peterson, the guy "suspected" of killing two of his four wives. He has announced plans to remarry. The fiance, a 24 year old, is living in Peterson's house with her young children! She says she can't imagine Peterson did anything to those women, because he treats her so well.
Well, now my blood is boiling.
Where do all these powerless, insecure women come from???
The truth is, they come from everywhere.
It's not so much that women have been taught to depend on men for food, shelter and clothing, although historically that's true, but that many of us still believe we can't stand on our own two feet!
We talk the talk, "No man is gonna tell me what to do!" - but we don't walk the walk.
We dismiss our talents and dreams and subsist on "making a living" until some Prince comes along to rescue us.
We've got to stop depending on the Prince! I say we, because I too have depended on a prince to make my life better. We've got it backwards, ladies! We make our lives better both financially and emotionally, the man is only there to enrich our lives. If we don't turn it around, we end up with men like Peterson.
Past generations fought for the right to vote, for equal rights and equal pay, but if young women today are still involved in these types of relatioships, then the right message didn't get across!
The old messages run so deep, we don't even realize it ourselves. This became clear to me when Obama was elected President. I was watching Will Smith on Oprah. As a young boy, Smith said his father instilled in him the possibility that he too could become Presdient. And Smith conducted his whole life with that mindset. It shaped his future.
It was then I recalled the message I had received as a young girl. When my mother and I cleaned the house, I wanted to make it shine and sparkle so that if the President ever came to visit, we would be ready! Smith saw himself as President, I saw myself as the housekeeper of the President!
Don't get caught up in the semantics, ladies. This is not about housekeeping. I know women who run housekeeping companies and they are definitely in charge. It's about how we see ourselves.
Are you powerful or powerless? Do you have the power to lead our own life, embrace your own talents, make your own way, without a man?
If there is one person in your life who is worried about the guy you're currently with, please, please, read this again, and again. If there is more than one person worried about the guy you're with, back away from the prince and get help now.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Mistakes Are Worth It
Based on my Slightly Off philosophy, I’ve learned that mistakes can be a good thing.
When you not only accept, but embrace your mistakes, you can bring a positive energy to almost any situation.
My godchild, Claire, was to make her first communion. It was a special day, which called for a special gift, for this sweet, petite, tomboy who would rather be in soccer cleats and shorts than in a white, frilly dress. With only a few days before the event, I finally found it – a beautiful pewter cross. At first glance it appeared almost masculine, but hidden in the intricate design were a few tiny pearls. The inscription at the base of the cross read: Bless My Goddaughter.
That night after dinner, I couldn’t wait to show, Claire’s godfather, my husband, the cross. I waited for the expected response, and wasn’t disappointed. “This is perfect for Claire. Great job, Deb!”
Beaming proudly, I handed it to my daughter for her expected praise. But it didn’t come.
She stared at the cross, and said, “Um, mom. . . gee, uh, I hate tell you this. But this actually says, ‘Bless My Granddaughter.’”
I put on my glasses, grabbed for the cross, and sure enough, that’s exactly what it said, “Bless My Granddaughter.”
In the past, I would’ve beat myself up for myself for such a silly mistake and fumed about the wasted time and effort. But this time, it took only a second for me to shift my perspective. I laughed. My husband laughed and then my daughter joined in. The shared laughter and good mood made the trip back to the store more than worth the trouble. In addition, I shared the story with my goddaughter’s mother and she had a good laugh too. But the best laugh was yet to come.
At the communion party, my godchild opened her card and the cross. Once again, I took the opportunity to tell Claire and her sisters about the almost “granddaughter” gift. And once again the room filled with laughter. But it was my daughter, who sat reading the card, who prompted the biggest laugh. She suddenly looked up at me, shook her head and said, “Um, mom, I hate to tell you this, but this card says, “Congratulations on your Confirmation.”
As my e-mail friends would say, we were all ROFL (Rolling on the floor laughing).
Who would’ve thought mistakes could bring so much joy into the world.
Now that’s Slightly Off!
When you not only accept, but embrace your mistakes, you can bring a positive energy to almost any situation.
My godchild, Claire, was to make her first communion. It was a special day, which called for a special gift, for this sweet, petite, tomboy who would rather be in soccer cleats and shorts than in a white, frilly dress. With only a few days before the event, I finally found it – a beautiful pewter cross. At first glance it appeared almost masculine, but hidden in the intricate design were a few tiny pearls. The inscription at the base of the cross read: Bless My Goddaughter.
That night after dinner, I couldn’t wait to show, Claire’s godfather, my husband, the cross. I waited for the expected response, and wasn’t disappointed. “This is perfect for Claire. Great job, Deb!”
Beaming proudly, I handed it to my daughter for her expected praise. But it didn’t come.
She stared at the cross, and said, “Um, mom. . . gee, uh, I hate tell you this. But this actually says, ‘Bless My Granddaughter.’”
I put on my glasses, grabbed for the cross, and sure enough, that’s exactly what it said, “Bless My Granddaughter.”
In the past, I would’ve beat myself up for myself for such a silly mistake and fumed about the wasted time and effort. But this time, it took only a second for me to shift my perspective. I laughed. My husband laughed and then my daughter joined in. The shared laughter and good mood made the trip back to the store more than worth the trouble. In addition, I shared the story with my goddaughter’s mother and she had a good laugh too. But the best laugh was yet to come.
At the communion party, my godchild opened her card and the cross. Once again, I took the opportunity to tell Claire and her sisters about the almost “granddaughter” gift. And once again the room filled with laughter. But it was my daughter, who sat reading the card, who prompted the biggest laugh. She suddenly looked up at me, shook her head and said, “Um, mom, I hate to tell you this, but this card says, “Congratulations on your Confirmation.”
As my e-mail friends would say, we were all ROFL (Rolling on the floor laughing).
Who would’ve thought mistakes could bring so much joy into the world.
Now that’s Slightly Off!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Beauty Beyond the Alley
I was once told that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Well, my eyes are getting pretty bad and it seems more difficult to see beauty all the time. After 48 years on this planet, I see uglyness more easily. Destruction, war, murder, negativity, even everyday stress, cloud my vision and distort my perceptions.
I wonder, have I become too cynical, too jaded, too old???? To see the beauty beyond the alley?
In the Chicago neighborhood where I grew up, behind every apartment building, two-flat or single brick home, was an alley. The place for all things, dirty, rotten, and smelly resided there. Large rusty cans filled with garbage, stood in the back of each home, buzzing with stuff to keep Oscar the Grouch, flies and soon-to-be flies (if you've lived in the city, you know the disgusting white larvae I'm talking about!) content for a lifetime. The alleys themselves were strewn with junk that never made it to the cans.
You might think it the least likely place to find beauty, but as a curious kid, I discovered it all the time.
Gravel and dirt covered the pitted cement and if you looked closely, you could always excavate a diamond or two - a rock with specks that sparkled in the sun, or a piece of colored glass just the right size to hide in your jewelry box and show to your best friend, if she hadn't tagged along for that particular expedition.
The rusty wire fence along one side was often dotted with another wonder, wildflowers, which quickly became bouquets we presented to our mothers or to have and to hold at our pretend weddings.
And these were only the most obvious treasures. If you were willing to go beyond the alley, peer around the garbage cans and brave barking dogs to peek over gates or between the slats of tall fences you might just get a glimpse of heaven.
Because in some backyards grew gardens of Eden. My eyes gazed upon flowers with shades of color so vibrant, I would catch my breath. In other small spaces, rows of green sprouted vegetabes, or a water pond mimicked the sound of a babbling brook, or gingerbread playhouses with white laced curtains sat nestled in the grass.
An alley is a Slighlty Off place to find beauty, but it's a good reminder that if we look beyond it, there is always beauty to behold.
Let's look beyond the alley today!
I wonder, have I become too cynical, too jaded, too old???? To see the beauty beyond the alley?
In the Chicago neighborhood where I grew up, behind every apartment building, two-flat or single brick home, was an alley. The place for all things, dirty, rotten, and smelly resided there. Large rusty cans filled with garbage, stood in the back of each home, buzzing with stuff to keep Oscar the Grouch, flies and soon-to-be flies (if you've lived in the city, you know the disgusting white larvae I'm talking about!) content for a lifetime. The alleys themselves were strewn with junk that never made it to the cans.
You might think it the least likely place to find beauty, but as a curious kid, I discovered it all the time.
Gravel and dirt covered the pitted cement and if you looked closely, you could always excavate a diamond or two - a rock with specks that sparkled in the sun, or a piece of colored glass just the right size to hide in your jewelry box and show to your best friend, if she hadn't tagged along for that particular expedition.
The rusty wire fence along one side was often dotted with another wonder, wildflowers, which quickly became bouquets we presented to our mothers or to have and to hold at our pretend weddings.
And these were only the most obvious treasures. If you were willing to go beyond the alley, peer around the garbage cans and brave barking dogs to peek over gates or between the slats of tall fences you might just get a glimpse of heaven.
Because in some backyards grew gardens of Eden. My eyes gazed upon flowers with shades of color so vibrant, I would catch my breath. In other small spaces, rows of green sprouted vegetabes, or a water pond mimicked the sound of a babbling brook, or gingerbread playhouses with white laced curtains sat nestled in the grass.
An alley is a Slighlty Off place to find beauty, but it's a good reminder that if we look beyond it, there is always beauty to behold.
Let's look beyond the alley today!
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