Poem Peeves

In grown hair
(you know where)
makes me hate
my underwear.

Because I Care, And Think You Should Too

Dear friend,

Thank you. Your name has been added to the message and your comments will be delivered to Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt.

Another great way to generate a lot of heat on this issue is to spread the word to your friends and family. The more signatures we gather, the better our chance to win. You can just forward the sample letter below.

Spreading the word is critical, but please only pass this message along to those who know you -- spam hurts our campaign.

Thanks for all you do.

--The MoveOn.org Political Action Team

Here's a sample message to send to your friends:

Subject: Contraception is abortion?

Hi,

I had to share something with you. Can you imagine living in a place where birth control is considered an "abortion" and health insurers won't cover it? Where even rape victims are denied emergency contraception?

It seems unbelievable, but the Bush Administration is quietly trying to redefine "abortion" to include birth control. The Houston Chronicle says this could wipe out dozens of state laws that protect women's reproductive freedom and protect rape victims. And this proposed "rule change" doesn't need congressional approval.

I just signed a message to Health and Human Services Secretary Mike Leavitt, whose department is considering this rule change, telling him: "Contraception is NOT abortion." Can you add your voice to this cause? Click here to sign the message: http://pol.moveon.org/contraception/?r_by=-9950595-JRzmsAx&rc=confemail

Thanks!

Mother-Daughter Fashion Issues

Got sent this notice for a Mother/Daughter fashion contest:

Do you share clothes with your mother or daughter—but sometimes clash about fashion choices? Tell us about your everyday wardrobe dilemmas and you and your mother or daughter could be the lucky pair to get solutions in a styling session with eBay Style Director, Constance White, and the Family Circle fashion team. Plus, you could win $3,000 for the perfect shareable wardrobe on eBay and a trip to New York City for a photo shoot and the chance to appear in an upcoming issue of Family Circle. For your chance to win, submit a photo or video of you and your mother or daughter, your ages and a short description of your experiences sharing your wardrobe.

I'm posting not just because y'all might find it worth entering or worth killing time reading the stories, but because it once again serves as a reminder just how damn different my relationship is with my Auspie.

Our clothing clashes, even though she is now 19, remain similar to those between parent and toddler: She wants to dress herself, but isn't at all concerned with how she'll look to others. I doubt that any fashion team would have a clue what to do. In fact, it would likely drive them to tears.

Thinking about it nearly drives me to tears.

He's Growing Up

Last fall I took my youngest, Hunter, then 7, to the art museum. He was quite prudish and giggly about seeing men nude; he said nothing about the nude women, but had a flushed, awkward look to him...

Flash forward about 9 months. Hunter is now 8 years old.

We spent a Saturday afternoon teaching the kids to make altered art books. Since we left the junk on the dinning room table, the kids (and myself) have been puttering around with creating more pages every now and then.

Just a few days ago, both the kids and myself were cuttin' & pastin' away to our hearts' content while Derek was at work. Des is quite prudish too, and so when she asked for me to hand her a magazine from the pile, I jokingly asked if she wanted the Victoria's Secret catalog.

She turned pink and gave a laughing but emphatic, "No!"

Hunter, seeing her discomfort, asked what it was. When I told him it was a ladies underwear catalog he asked for it.

I gave it to him knowing that A) he was likely only trying to get his sister's goat (or, more likely, to get her to groan), and that B) he's rather prudish himself and would likely blanch at it and put it down in a minute.

But he didn't.

Just seconds before he had been all squirrelly over a "sexy woman" on the front of Interview Magazine, but now, he was completely entranced.

He sat there cutting with what can only be described as "dedicated frenzy".

He made a few comments about how "hot" this one or that one was. After a few of such comments, I simply asked him how he would feel if Des & I were to make those comments about men in their underwear? (I thought Des would puke she turned so green at the idea.) He got the point quickly and said little else.

Well, OK, I did have to have a few such discussions; but they were short and he did seem to absorb them as important and modified his behavior.

He was then pretty quiet -- until he made a mistake.

Suddenly he turned to Des, trying to get her to look at one of his paper ladies. She refused, saying she didn't want to look at them. "But, I accidentally tore part of the page, and now I had to cut her leg off -- does she look OK?" he asked, really worried.

I reassured him it was OK. And that he could cut her off at the waist; she'd fit better on the page that way and no one would know.

"But I like her legs!" he wailed.

So he pasted in his one-legged beauty & continued to work in silent earnest.

Until --

"Oh no! Wh-What? Why would they--?"

I turned to look at him frantically paging through the catalog until he sighed and said, "OK, good."

Feeling my question, he said, "They had started to put them in clothes."

Ugh.

"There's nothing wrong with a lady in clothes," I reminded him, "Just as there is nothing wrong with the human body, there is nothing wrong with the body clothed."

"Yeah, but I like their boobs and legs," he said.

"Well, it's natural to notice them and find them pretty," I replied, knowing Des was crimson -- but listening too. "But remember, these ladies have mothers, brothers, maybe even kids; and they laugh & cry and want to do things, just like everyone else. They are not pieces of paper or toys you can just think of as parts. They are people."

"I know," he said thoughtfully. "I just like to look at them."

We each continued to work in silence for a bit. I had to admit, he was far more interested in the altered arts book project than ever before. I mean he liked it before, but usually his max time working on it was 30 minutes at a time; it was at least an hour this time, with no signs of leaving anytime soon.

"Hunter," I said, "You sure seem to like those ladies..."

"What. They are pretty."

"Yeah, but you were just all grossed-out over that other lady on the cover of that magazine," I gestured, "And now...?"

"Mom, you have to face it; I'm growing up."

"Yes, but that was only ten minutes ago," I said.

"Some of us mature faster," he said.

How true.

He returned to his cutting and pasting.

I then began to wonder if this was a problem... Should I have let him have the magazine?

But let's face it, the ladies in VS aren't nude and he can see all that and more on the beach or TV.

And I figured at least he was there, with me, having his questions answered & his enthusiasm properly channeled -- without the freak-out to send him into sexual guilt and repression.

I figure that this is far better than discovering the catalog on his own or with a peer (very likely, given how they litter most homes) and having no proper context for understanding. This time with him was a gift.

Sex Ed - From The Kid

My eldest, the Auspie, was always a hoot at the museum. From 3 on, when I was in college and had the discounted student pass, she'd stomp around the library-quiet museum with me during weekdays in this pair of brightly colored cowboy boots that she had to wear, no matter the weather or season.

My favorite Allie In An Art Museum Story took place during her first visit to the MAM.

We were looking through the "classic masters" section of paintings, when I heard her grunt and stomp out of the room. I did my own classic mommy bit then, trying to quietly catch up with her. When I did, I asked her why she left so quickly.

Hands on her hips, she turned to me and said, "I just don't understand why they have to put the fur there."

I stood stupefied for a moment -- and then remembered the partial female nude. "Fur" meant public hair.

"It's just the human body," I said. As 'mommy' -- and a single parent then too -- she'd never minded barging in on me in the bath (as you'll see in a bit) or getting dressed and so had seen me nude enough to know that pubic hair was, is, normal.

But apparently 'normal' had no place in art.

"They just shouldn't show that. They should paint a dress on them or something," was her reply.

As if nude models were understandable, but painting them thus was the problem.

Speaking of Allie and pubic hair...

Once when she was little she pushed her way into the bathroom while I was on the potty myself. She took one look at my pubic hair, pointed her little chubby toddler finger at it, and said, "Chipmunks live in there."

I knew if I laughed, I'd hear that forever; so I bit my tongue and replied, "No, they do not. When ladies and men grow-up, part of maturing is growing hair on their private parts."

She stood and stared at me.

Then she raised her finger along with her voice and shouted, "No! Chipmunks live in there!" Then she stormed out of the bathroom.

Leaving me a very puzzled mother on the toilet -- still too afraid to laugh.

Visting The Art Museum

Like most moms, I am forever behind in placing photos in the album; so why should digital pics posted in the old blog be any different? Here are some photos from when Hunter and I went to the Milwaukee Art Museum last fall, when he was seven.




I like to take kids alone to art museums. You get to take time having the child lead you around, stopping where & when they wish to, and have them respond to art without interference or opinion from anyone else. All I say is, "Show me what you like." And when they do, I ask them what it is they like about it. It's a very natural way to get at artistic response without bogging them down in stuff they don't understand -- or overwhelming them with stuff they don't care to know and won't remember anyway.

Plus, it just makes for a more relaxed, fun, trip; which means they will continue to want to go to museums.




And of course now I can snap pics with my cell (and take 9 months to post them), to add to the interactive experience.




Hunter, being raised by a rather negative father, often stops to say what he doesn't like. But my reaction is the same: "What don't you like about it?"



Eventually, either breaking out of 'daddy mode' and relaxing with me -- or just feeling more comfortable about looking at art -- eventually moved into telling me what pieces he did like.




Then it's off to the gift shop to buy a few postcards of their favorite pieces. Something to take home and look at later, I believe, reinforces not only the 'good times of the trip', but provides actual art in their room.



Things you should also know: He didn't like the nudes -- especially the males.



The best thing to do was to let him joke a bit about it. Little boys like butt jokes, so...

Crazy Like A Metaphor

I'm struck by so much in Dangerous Knitting:

My child fell apart. That is what happened in actual time. No speeding cars, no spinning yarns, no old TV characters. Those are just props, mixed metaphors that translate the whole mess into a story that has some recognition, that makes some sense. Back in the actual world, the world that makes no sense at all, my child fell apart. Fell so hard that all action stopped and we literally couldn’t move for months. We all broke down, we all went blind. We found ourselves groping through a glaring maze with no metaphorical nuance: hospital corridors, clinical intakes, treatment programs, therapy sessions, psychiatric appointments, insurance adjusters, all flourescent lights and buzzing machinery. Ravel, unravel, they have the same meaning: to become dis-joined thread by thread. Ravel, unravel, ravel, unravel, it makes no sense. Roll the mess into a ball and knit. What else could I do? Back to metaphors.

I learned to knit that year. My daughter calls it dangerous knitting, for the way I hold and pick the yarn from the very tips of my needles; the way it looks like everything is going to fall apart into a tangled mess. The trick is to wrap the yarn around my left hand, just so, not too tight, not too loose, and keep up a momentum. I always have several projects going at the same time. When one piece gets too tough and confusing, I move on to a softer fiber, an angora or chenille. But it can all fall apart, accidentally or on purpose. Everything put together sooner or later unravels.

Via Cult of Gracie.

Domestic Violence, Child Custody & Court

Barry Goldstein discusses the crisis in the custody court system that has resulted in thousands of children being sent to live with abusers -- tonight at 9 (central).

For more info, see Cult of Gracie.

Lessons From Games With Grandpa

Grandpa had been a boxer in the years before he became a grandpa, before he became a husband (it was during these years that he met Grandma.) And his arms were strong.

When I was a little girl, I used to swing from my grandpa’s arm. He’d make a muscle, one that I’d no doubt asked him to make, and then I’d grab on his arm, and he’d lift me high above the ground. At my age, it was a magical height, like seeing people & cars from an airplane. I felt at once so high, and so safe, as I dangled from Grandpa’s arm.

At some point, as I grew, I no longer could hang from Grandpa’s arm. He’d been a boxer in a lightweight division, and in my family, girls went from a size 6X to a size 13 (if you were lucky, you decreased in size by the end of high school or your early 20’s). So soon, I literally out-grew swinging from Grandpa’s arm.

I don’t remember my age, but I do remember thinking tenderly, of becoming aware of Grandpa as becoming one of those older people - a bit too frail for me to play with as I used to do. But Grandpa & I still had a game to play.

Grandpa used to tell me he loved me ’all heart’ and when I was still little enough to swing from his arm, I had asked him if Grandma minded that he loved me with all of his heart - if this meant he couldn’t love anyone else. He replied that love was infinite - that no matter how he used his whole heart to love me, he could love Grandma, his children, my sister, my cousins - each & every other person he wanted - with his entire heart as well. Hearts held & gave more than we could account for.

As I grew older, we would play this game on nearly every visit. I remember at my high school graduation, sitting alone with Grandpa on the back step we sat side by side, holding each other’s hand, and looking into each other’s faces as we played the game:

"Hello my Long-Stem-American-Rose, I’m so proud of you today, graduating high school. I love you all heart."

"Grandpa, how can you love me with all your heart? What about Grandma?"

"Love is limitless, Dee Dee, it is bigger and wider than we will ever know. They may teach you that hearts are only the size of your fist, but they hold & give more than we can ever measure. This is how I can love you all heart, and love Grandma all heart too."

He never once said that we’d done this before. Neither one of us laughed during this game. It was as sincerely asked and answered as the first time. And even if that was the only conversation we shared alone that visit, it made my heart so full.

I miss my Grandpa. These days when the world seems to have no purpose, when I was beat in my own kitchen, when I suffered losses in court, I hear my Grandpa’s words, and I know none of those things have any hold on me. Not really.

It would be nicer to sit with him on the porch, and have him hold my hand as he’d speak those words. But neither those words, nor my Grandpa, are really gone. Every opportunity I have, I share the conversation with my children. It doesn’t happen the same way. And heaven knows my 5 year old doesn’t play the game as I did with my Grandpa. But he listens.

I have hope that at his worst moments, when my hand is not there to hold his, my son’s heart is full knowing that the things he fears or hates do not have a hold on him. Not really.

(Republished from ye olde Backwash column.)

Of Happy Madmen & Radio

(Hubby, unbeknownst to me until I was set to publish this, has already posted his thoughts on this -- but I'm not about to scrap my work! Plus, he has his own comments; and they're really only on part of the article.)

This past weekend, on our way back home from Wisconsin, hubby and I bought a stack of vintage Radio Guide issues. This is the story of just one article...

Happy Madmen, by Lorraine Thomas is the "sensitive" 1938 "educational" piece published in the weekending October 15, 1938 issue of Radio Guide on the how the "modern miracle" of radio is working wonders for America's 400,000 mentally ill.



It begins:

You don't say "insane asylum" any more. The polite and proper term is "state institution." But call it what you like, the fact remains that there are 400,000 or more patients in America's 397 homes for the mentally ill.

So first Lorraine tells us what's polite and proper -- then, with, "call it what you like," she dismisses any need to do so.

Four hundred thousand men and women, some violently insane, some merely teetering on the thin straight line between sanity and the lack of it -- but all of them hopelessly caged, locked up, barred from all but the remotest contact with "the world outside"! Four hundred thousand people living out their lives in rigid routine, living by a clock that has no meaning for them, marking off the endless days on a calendar that has no hope -- that's the picture.

(Wow. There's some compassion!)

But perhaps I shouldn't have said that. It used to be true, but things have changed a little.

Yup, because of radio.

:Pause:

One wonders if "a little" change means anything to people so hopeless, to people who find no meaning in clocks...

But the article asserts radio does wonders.

Lorraine does not.

She tosses out phrases like "mysteriously unbalanced people," and expresses such contempt I, at least, have to wonder if she is capable of any compassion at all. But then maybe that's why she was sent to survey the (as she says) self-described nuts on their radio program favorites. Perhaps cold and removed helps one facilitate surveys. Or maybe I'm to believe that the "several hundred patients" she interviewed drove her to her demeanor.

Some notable quotes:

"Most of the patients like Gracie Allen, all right -- but not because they feel any strange bonds of sympathy or understanding. They think she's nuts, and very, very funny."

"Very few patients like Amos 'n' Andy, and even fewer like Major Bowes. According to this critical census, Amos 'n' Andy are monotonous, dull, old stuff. As for Major Bowes, he's insincere, he's mean to the amateurs, he's not polite about ringing the gong, and he always says the same old thing in the same old way. 'All right, all right.'"



Radio Guide's Survey Of Sanitaria Reveals That People Who Are Mentally Distressed Favor The Following Programs:

Burns and Allen (CBS), H.V. Kaltenborn (CBS), and Guy Lombardo's Music (CBS).

I guess we know what the "C" in CBS is for.

While this article is supposed to extol the virtues of radio programming for the mentally ill, some of the stories seem more than a bit misplaced. Even crazily so.

While the story of Mrs. Diggs has its, "Oh, aren't the crazy charming!" value, it leads to a different place...

Take a look at Mrs. Diggs. Mrs. Diggs is a Negro, a man, who considers himself the most beautiful white woman in the world. He says he has letters from President Roosevelt, Will Hayes, Lindbergh and Joe Louis telling him so. What's more, he's the mother of all the white people in the world. "Mrs. Diggs" has other delusions too. At times he thinks he's Henry Ford, Rockefeller, and Edison rolled into one. He always insists he's the richest person in the world. About radio he was at first a bit dubious, until I pointed to a receiving set. Then he smiled knowingly, and acknowledged, "Oh, yes, the radio. I invented it."

You mightn't think such a delusion could be very dangerous, but that's where you are wrong. One can never tell about such things. There's another patient in this same hospital who had an even more fantastic delusion. This patient knew a lot more abut the radio than the case just quoted. This man was a radio fan. He wrote letters applying for a job to all the Hollywood radio stations, and once he even won an amateur contest. One morning, while listening to KHJ, he heard one of the popular songs of that period, "There's a Ring Around the Moon." To most of us, that song is no more important than any other -- but to Mr. Radiofan "There's a Ring Around the Moon" carried a very special and important message. Mr. Radiofan considered himself uniquely gifted person, and one of his secret talents was putting rings around the moon. Therefore KHJ's broadcast of the song could mean only one thing: they were sending out an SOS to him -- KHJ needed him to come down and teach them how to put a ring around the moon. Mr. Radiofan lost no time. He ran up a $27 taxi-bill going from Santa Ana to Los Angeles. Asking the taxi-driver to wait, he went into the studio. Soon talking with the secretary of the man in charge of employment, he asked for his job -- the job that was waiting for him. Impatient at the questions he was asked, he suddenly took out a knife, opened it, raised his arm and stared menacingly at the terror-stricken girl. She screamed, an announcer ran into the room -- and was stabbed in the throat. Before the maniac was finally overpowered, another bystander's scalp and clothing were in bloody shreds, and the announcer had bled to death. The real tragedy in this story is that the boy's death was so unnecessary: Mr. Radiofan was a paroled patient from a midwestern institution.

I think the real tragedy is Lorraine's article.

PS Searches returned nothing on such a murder at KHJ; but I did find this 1931 KHJ aircheck of Bing Crosby.

Allison Bottke On Setting Boundaries With Your Adult Children

An interview with Allison Bottke, author of Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children: Six Steps to Hope and Healing for Struggling Parents.

The book comes out of your own personal experience with your son. Please tell us about that.

ALLISON: For years I really thought I was helping my son. I wanted him to have the things I never had growing up. I love my son, and I didn’t want him to hurt—but sometimes pain is a natural result of the choices we make. For a long time I didn’t understand the part I was playing in the ongoing drama that had become my son’s life—I didn’t understand that I didn’t have to live in constant chaos and crisis because of his choices. When I chose to stop the insanity and start living a life of hope and healing my life changed. It’s a feeling I want other struggling parents and grandparents to experience. I want other parents to know that change is possible when we choose to stop the destructive cycle of enabling. And we can stop it. I know, because I’ve done it.

How can we determine whether we are helping versus enabling our children?

ALLISON: Helping is doing something for someone that he is not capable of doing himself.

Enabling is doing for someone things that he could and should be doing himself.

An enabler is a person who recognizes that a negative circumstance is occurring on a regular basis and yet continues to enable the person with the problem to persist with his detrimental behaviors. Simply, enabling creates an atmosphere in which our adult children can comfortably continue their unacceptable behavior.

You say there are two separate yet intrinsically combined things going on when we look at the pathology of enabling our adult children, what are those two things?

ALLISON: #1. We have the issue of the dysfunctional child himself—the product of our enabling. Most often, we are dealing with adult children who have no concept of healthy boundaries as they pertain to their parents and grandparents. Many are dealing with addictions to alcohol, drugs, sex, pornography, gambling, and more. Some of these children are involved in illegal activity, while others have been in and out of jail numerous times. Some are abusive to us. Some have jobs while others do not, most have extreme financial challenges. Others are still living at home, and some have even moved their spouse or “significant other” into their parents’ home with them. Many have been in and out of treatment centers, most often at the urging (and cost) of their parents. While we cannot change the behavior of our adult children, we can change how we respond to their actions and to their choices. We can, and must, begin to establish healthy boundaries and rules.

#2. Then, we have the issue of our own personal health and growth (or lack thereof.) For many of us, we have spent years taking care of, bailing out, coming to the rescue, making excuses for, crying over, praying for, and otherwise focusing an unhealthy amount of time and attention on this adult child, that we have neglected our own mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical health. Many of us have neglected other family members as well, as the adult child has taken so much of our energy. Some of us are now experiencing severe financial ramifications from having enabled our adult child. Others are finding their marriage falling apart as tempers flair and situations spiral out of control. What is it inside us that makes us respond in such a way—that makes us enable our adult children?

You say the main problem with dysfunctional adult children isn’t the choice they make or don’t make – but something else entirely. If their choices aren’t the main problem, what is?

ALLISON: Our biggest problem isn’t about our adult child’s inability to wake up when their alarm clock rings, or their inability to keep a schedule, or their inability to hold down a job or pay their bills. It’s not about their drug use or alcohol addictions. It’s not about the mess they’re making of their life. The main problem is about the part we’re playing in stepping in to soften the blow of the consequences that come from the choices they make. The main problem is us. Instead of praying to God to stop the pain, remove the difficulty, or change the life of our adult child, we must rise up and pray for something entirely different. We must pray for the courage to look deep in our own heart and soul—pray for the strength to begin a journey that quite possibly may change our own life—and pray for the wisdom to make new choices in our own life.

What does this book accomplish that other books on the topic do not?

ALLISON: Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children will empower readers with a no holds barred six step S.A.N.I.T.Y. format, stating in black and white the parental behaviors that must STOP, along with identifying new habits to implement if change is to occur. Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children will identify the false conceptions parents believe about themselves and their adult children and will counter each lie of captivity with the truth that setting boundaries is not only a good thing—but a vital part of hope and healing. True stories from other enabling parents and grandparents are woven throughout the chapters. Discussions with and observations from licensed psychologists and psychiatrists are also included.

Is Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children applicable to readers who many not share the same faith journey as you?

ALLISON: Absolutely. As a Christian, I write from that perspective. I personally believe that a focus on God or on your Higher Power is vital in this healing process. However, the book is written in such a way as to appeal to people of all beliefs and denominations.

You say that enabling our children is “a nationwide epidemic with catastrophic consequences.” What has led you to believe this?

ALLISON: There is clearly an epidemic of major proportion plaguing our nation today. This has become obvious to me as I travel the country sharing my God Allows U-Turns testimony and outreach. Seldom does a week go by when I am not approached by someone in deep pain concerning their adult child. It’s not just audience members in conflict with this troubling issue, but fellow authors, speakers and entertainers, some quite well known, who are living in the throes of familial discord concerning out-of-control adult children. It’s happening all over the country to people from all walks of life.

I encourage your readers to tell me what they think about Setting Boundaries with Your Adult Children. I really do want to hear reader feedback. They can reach me at: SettingBoundaries@SanitySupport.com Please be sure to visit our web site at http://www.sanitysupport.com/blogtourguests.htm where they will find additional resources for helping them on their road to S.A.N.I.T.Y. Remember to tell a friend in need and help save a life!

High-Five Fridays #12

1) Gracie's re-started her cult again.

These next few may seem to be a "downer", but that's only the case if you don't feel like respecting the honesty and truths which they bring...

2) Bunny's sobering post, Food Is Not A Bad Thing:

Have you ever stood by and watched someone die and not done a damn thing to stop it?

I have. It makes you feel like shit. I won't do that again.

3) Sarah Lynn's honesty regarding her marital communication requires some thought... There's no quote to grab here because it's a process, you know; so read it.

4) Suzy writes What You Just Can't See, which contains an honest truth regarding special needs parenting:

I have been through this grief before. I know that it will fade, and when it does I will feel whole again. And because I know that you can’t mother this way, or live fully this way- I bury it within me.

5) And a high-five to all of you who get your Mother's Day gift free this year -- with Buy One For You, Get One For Mom! We're giving away free copies of Suburban Diva: From The Real Side Of The Picket Fence, by Tracey Henry with purchase. So go get 'em and give 'em!

Want to give high-fives too? Find out how to give your High-Five Fridays here!

The purpose of this meme is to give high-fives to 5 people, posts, blogs and/or websites you've admired during the week. I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 5 high-fives on Friday. Trackbacks, pings, linky widgets, comment links accepted!

Visiting fellow High-Fivers is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your High-Fives in others comments (please note if NWS).

Find more High-Five Friday folks here!