Falling Down

Michael and I went out to eat to celebrate his victory of passing a final for work. It is one of many tests he will have to pass to continue his journey in the airline world. His new position is tough, stressful and constant. His training has been grueling. For six weeks he has had to go to work seemingly on a whim, at whatever hour the trainer dictates, studying at home, spending countless hours on the computer and buried in books. It's been a tough six weeks for me also. I have to figure out a way of living without the man to whom I have been so dependent on for the last decade. This is only the beginning of the sacrifices we will have to make in order for us to survive the merger of his company. I am using this time as a test, to see if I can live without him when he gets transferred to Chicago. I know, in my heart, we will figure what is best for us, our family, if moving or hanging on here in Houston will be the right thing to do. I think back, often these days, of the time when I was alone raising the kids. It is not so long ago that I was lonely, scared and bored, getting by with no one to make me laugh, or cry for that matter.
Last night was not about what we still have to face, but rather, what we have already accomplished. Mexican food and margaritas seemed to be in order. Without fanfare or formal dress, we headed out to restaurant here in our little burg. It sits in the middle of our town, by a park. We go there because fo the outside seating, bistro style, sipping cool drinks watching families walk and kids play in the neighboring park. We had been seated at the bar, just talking, holding hands, waiting patiently for a table to open up when our buzzer went off and it was time to go meet the hostess. She walks us outside to a table at the end of the sidewalk. People are talking, laughing eating, everything seemed as it should when I notice a police car and ambulance. I asked the hostess if she knew what happened.

"A group of kids were playing, hanging out, when a big group of them beat up a single kid.Someone called the cops. The kids took off, the kid was pretty bloody."

Michael and I had just said how nice it was to see everyone out, enjoying the park, right before this happened. In a matter of moments, everything went to hell in a hand basket. I watched an adult male speak to the police, while the injured kid continued to wipe the blood from his mouth. I plopped in my seat, shaking my head.

I can't help feeling we fallen from grace recently, with all the violence that is deepening, anger getting stronger, while compassion dwindles. I don't remember the sheer volume of attacks of young people on each other when we were young. Maybe I have selective memory, but the bloody violent behavior seems to be on the rise. It used to feel to me that the sight of blood or someone falling was shocking, putting fear into those involved. Now it is internet fodder used as a source of entertainment.

I know me and was grateful I didn't witness the attack. I would have surely lost my own temper, grabbing as many offenders as I could. I tend to react rather than worry about my own personal safety when it comes to teenage bad behavior. One day I have no doubt I will live to regret my lack of timing. This time I sat watching this boy, beaten and clearly embarrassed, talk to the authorities about the incident which I am certain will emotionally scar him much longer than the bloodied lip he
sustained.

We have fallen as a society, to be sure. The lack of respect for ourselves, each other, for life in general. As much as I wish it weren't true, the facts too often times are right in front of me. As hopeful as I am about the future, I can no longer dismiss what is clearly a falling out of decency. There is a television show I refuse to watch based on internet clips, most of which someone is getting hurt or sick. I don't blame the show for what is happening, but it is the product of the environment in which we live. If some idiot hadn't plastered the clips on the internet, the show would not exist. The problem is where the line is drawn. Currently, there is no line, so my question is where do we plan to put it? If anything is fair game as acceptable behavior, or at the very least entertainment, when does that become exploitation of real human suffering? When do we as adults, human beings, step in and say, "No. Enough. This has gone too far" ?

I am well aware that I am considered old and out of the loop. I have considered my age as a deterrent from being cool. But I think we have fallen away from cool with this too. Cool used to be original, unusual, interesting, talented, smart. Now its more seedy, celebrities made from sex tapes, exclusive clubs and stepping on everyone to get ahead.
What's the answer to this? I have no idea. I teach people all the time to be kinder, more compassionate, but the growing ideal that it is archaic to think that
is is louder than anything I have to say. For now, I am merely looking for a parachute until someone smarter than me comes up with a better answer.

Have You Seen My ...Everything?

I hired an organizer to come to our house and look at the mess we have made. Being terrified that someone might actually witness our mess, we have been holed up in our house keeping guests at bay. She showed up with her tools and advice of what we needed to do. It was mostly what I expected, until she said, "I see most of you are perfectionists." Silently I nodded, but in my head I thought, very maturely I might add, "Are not!" Instead,I remained quiet, nodding, listening to the rationale of what led her to this ridiculous belief. As she listed out the symptoms of what caused her belief, I had an "aha" moment. Turns out most of us are perfectionists. She was insightful to our personalities in other ways, as well. "You prefer clean surfaces?" she looked at me and asked. Again I nodded. I wondered how she could tell, when clearly we didn't have one square inch of clean surfaces to be found anywhere in our house. I hadn't seen the top of our tables, counters or floors since we had moved in.
I had slowly been losing my mind over the past six months due to the clutter that seemed endless and perpetual in our home. The truth of the matter is, I have never lived in a clean house. When the kids were babies I spent all my time feeding, running and chasing the little buggers. I washed my diapers myself, and with three babies in diapers at a time, I had a deep and profound relationship with my washer. The only other appliance I loved as much was the dishwasher, which never fully got emptied, running sometimes several times a day.
As a single mother, I worked 12-16 hours a day, coming home only to pick up the kids, packing them in our dilapidated Ford, running from soccer to Girl Scouts to football, then band. By the time we got home I fell in a heap in the bed to get up and start over the next day. I began to feel that the dust was the only thing holding our house together. The basement floor was made of unfinished laundry, the kitchen puttied together by grease.
Moving to Texas brought high school, work and four senior years. I have loved having my kids close in age, until we had senior years back to back to back. It's a big thing for a kid, so all the pageantry, expectation, prom, pictures, retreats, all of it was a roller coaster of non stop requirements.
This brings us to our current life of living in the frat house, full of college age kids, smells no one should have to revisit once they leave college and of course the petting zoo that currently takes up residence here. I will tell you the vile smells, foul odors and distasteful dirt does not come from the animals. We clean up after them regularly and they live better than we do.
The organizer praised what we had done so far. This made her worth every dime. I needed the validation and hope that one day I might experience putting my car keys away, only to find them when I need them. The best thing she said was, "Done is perfect. You do not have to live like your house came out of magazine. Find what works and let that be enough." Since I was merely hoping to find a path to run the vacuum, I felt good about my newly lowered expectation from an outside source.
Sunday, we are all getting together and implementing the new system. Miss Organizer had encouraged me to take a team approach, since all the kids were grown. At first I laughed hysterically, until I realized she wasn't kidding. Now I am on board, ready to tackle one space at a time until everything here is done, including my "team" to help. Remembering that "done is perfect", the minute we are done, I plan to call of my friends and tell them my house looks perfect. I actually plan to tell everyone I meet on the street, too.
I planned to call and thank Miss Organizer, but I can't seem to find my phone...

When Hearts Break

My daughter lost her beloved bunny in a tragic way. Tuvia, her adorable rabbit, whom she rescued two years ago was chased to death by my wiener dog. Schnitzel didn't seemingly actively kill the rabbit, but bunnies have a defense mechanism where their hearts stop when under attack. In a matter of seconds, she was panicked and gone. She lay frozen on my kitchen floor, just newly dead, on her side as if she were sleeping. My eldest child, Christine, noticed the kitchen door open and went to see. In a single moment her heart was utterly shattered. Her best friend lie dead on the ground with the dog standing guard as if he understood he had destroyed the person he loved so dearly. Tuvia did not have a mark on her. Christine gutted and screaming begged me to look and see if Tuvia was indeed dead. I got on my knees, picked up her gorgeous bunny and knew for certain we would never be the same again.
The sounds that came from my daughter still haunt me. The image of Tuvia on her side, still, not breathing, appears in my dreams. I got a towel, wrapped up little Tuvia and placed her in my sobbing daughter's arms. She held her as long as she could and the tears never stopped. "I will never have another rabbit like her," she cried into her bunny. No, she never will. Christine had raised Tuvia from an infant bunny. Tuvia had been rescued and brought to a pet store where Christine had found her and kept her alive. Christine wasn't just owner of Tuvia, she was Mama. Tuvi followed her around, kept her safe from intruders of heart and body, kept her warm when she had no heat, slept next to her, taking in her warmth and love. Tuvi was and will always be the saving grace that kept my girl going during an extremely dark time in her life. The loss of her was and is unfathomable.
Later I took Christine out to look for another bunny. No one could take Tuvi's place, but I felt certain Christine needed someone else to focus on to get past her grief. Christine continues to face the challenges of grieving her friend, but the new arrival helps to ease the utter loneliness. When their father passed away, I felt such responsibility for my kids. My focus went to them, lest I fall into the abyss of despair. I wanted Christy to have that focus, that distraction to help mend her heart.
We went to a pet store, not far from home. We walked in and tear stained, rumpled, us went in search of help to find a small bunny. The girl looked at us, we, I am sure, looked just left of slightly crazy. She directed us to large clear boxes containing several small rabbits. Christine was distracted, looking back near the entrance of where we came in. I lost her for a moment and was worried she was not coping, feeling overwhelmed. I was worried she might leave, thoughtlessly wandering out into the cold. I turned and caught a glimpse of her heading toward a back room where only employees were allowed. I fast walked my way to her very concerned for her state of mind. She had a laser like focus on a cage behind glass windows. Without hesitation, she walked into the "Employees Only" door and went to the cage of a single small rabbit, who was standing on his back feet staring directly at her.
What I witnessed was nothing short of amazing, miraculous. Christy had seen the bunny the minute we got into the door. He had immediately stood up on his hind legs waiting for her to come get him. They instinctively knew something, that very few of us understand. The bunny, a male, born on November 8, her father and my anniversary, chose her. He is brown, with a white tail, wide forehead and mischief in his eyes. When he looks at Christy, it melts my heart because he so obviously loves her. Christy never choosing to name her pets any other way than to honor them with human names, has decided to call him Jim.
Jim chose Christy to love and Christy chose Jim. He doesn't know it yet, but he won the lottery with choosing my girl. I have no idea why he stood up for so long waiting for her to come get him, but somehow his tiny baby bunny mind knew he was about to fall head over paws in love with the most beautiful girl.
Jim now lives in the kitchen in a giant cage, being let out to wander and play as I cook and Christy studies French. The dogs are being trained that the kitchen is off limits. We have blocked the doors from any nosy animals wanting to check out our new arrival. Jim has lived here a little over a month. He is playful, sweet, litter trained and deeply in love with my girl. He sits in the over sized kitchen window, lazily sleeping as he watches the wind and the squirrels.
I have a deep affection for Jim because he helped save my little girl. Every day Jim loves Christy more and more, helping heal her very broken heart. We speak of Tuvia in hushed voices, still. I remain so very sorry, my rock headed dog did the unthinkable, breaking my girl's heart.
For those who have lost the love of their life, in furry form, know I feel you to my bones. My pets are part of my family. Asti, our old dog, now fifteen years old, has been my best friend when friends were hard to come by. I would take a bullet for her, because she has guarded me all of her life. Tuvia is buried outside the kitchen window, under a tree, where Michael said a quiet little prayer over our darling, little furry girl. It is the same window Jim watches out everyday. I feel her watching out for tiny Jim, looking over Christy, too, with all the love her furry heart could hold.

My Wedding Day

Ahhh, another Valentine's Day has rolled around. What to do, what to do? Mike and I haven't really spent time together since his job change. He sits engrossed in his books while I sit and just be gross. With so many people inhabiting our smaller home, it is nearly impossible to have time and space to be romantic. We are conserving funds and staying in , many of the nights we are home together. Trying to make something out of today is a little like fashioning a dress out of paper. It may look lovely but one inch too close to a candle and the whole thing goes up in flames.
Our big plans are to go into our room and hide. We might splurge and have a glass of wine versus the bottomless whining we have done over the past week.
I had thought I might not blog today, since Mike and I are currently "stranged". I don't want to say estranged, because that sounds too much like we are separated, which we are most definitely not. However, since we don't see each other much and interact with each other even less, I think the "stranged" fits perfectly.
It's strange for us to be apart this long. It's strange for us not to be laughing at something ridiculous in the evenings, sitting together, holding hands, sitting close, always touching.
Today isn't a huge deal for me, neither are anniversaries. I am not that girl. I care more about the daily stuff, where he takes the pressure off and makes the worst jokes that crack me up. I like when he buys me cards, flowers, that sort of thing, but I love it more when he whispers in my ear, rubs my feet when we watch T.V., walks the dogs with me, helps with the dishes, sneaks up behind me when I am cooking in the kitchen. I am more an everyday kinda gal. My confession is, I don't remember our anniversary. I rarely put any emphasis on days like today. I am more guy than girl in this case. Mike is proven to me. He has bought cards, celebrated our love, bought me shiny baubles. We have been there, done that and worn the silly thing out. I am a romantic at heart. I like romance, and given the opportunity, can do it well. This year, though, because of all the changes I want something more practical, like an hour of his time to just be together. I would rather have him home, than out buying the perfect card.
I was thinking back to our wedding day. I never dreamed of a big wedding. I didn't want all the fuss. I was never the one who liked all the frills, big puffy gowns, and a thousand people I barely knew to show up with gifts in hand. I didn't have a wedding pattern for dishes, desire cut crystal, or make arrangements for doves to fly off anywhere. I actually wanted to get married somewhere it was just the two of us. For not being a big wedding person, I have now had two. They were lovely, I guess, but since I had no want for them, I have no appreciation for how they turned out. No one died, got mortally injured or had to be removed, so I guess they were a success.
Mike and I had a second wedding day very few know about. It was his wedding gift to me. Nearly a year after the "formal wedding" I asked Michael if we could do it my way. He very willingly agreed to marry me all over again, but this time it was Michael, me and a priest with a single camera with a timer. I wore the dress from our rehearsal, carried a dozen pink roses, and he wore a simple suit. It was late afternoon, the kids had a sitter and we sneaked off to the church, stood in front of the priest and said our own vows. We put the self timed camera on top of the pew and ran to the front for our "wedding photo". We went to our favorite restaurant, fed each other, drank wine, laughed, talked and touched each others hands. We then took a walk in the cold night air down the pier to watch the sunset.
It was in this moment, I knew I would love him forever. I had said and done all that was expected of me as the "formal Bride", but it was when it was just him and me that my wedding wish had come true. This smaller more intimate moment was when I truly felt like a bride.
Tonight Mike will come from work, exhausted by all he has to learn for his new job. His face will show one more wrinkle, his eyes will look red and tired. I will have spent the day catching up on house work, writing and laundry. But I have a plan. Tonight we will hide away from all the cares and stress of the day, sipping wine, eating fresh fruit, talking and laughing together, just as we did on MY wedding day. Tonight will be about our minds and bodies catching up to what our hearts have known for a very long time. We need each other. We want to be together, two minds, hearts and souls melding together to form our perfect union.
Whatever your plans, I wish you a Happy Valentine's Day. It is what you want to make it. I plan on making mine one a of the many days, I steal my husband away for a few moments, just to have him all to myself.

I Love Money

O.K., I said it, I love money. I love the smell of it, the feel of it in my hands, the way it changes people lives for the better, I simply love money.
I realize for some, the love of money is a negative thing, but for me it means the difference of helping others versus scraping between pay checks. I don't think money is everything, I think money is an important form of energy, passing between me and the world I live in.
When I chose to do this full time, I realized I would be scraping for an income, for a while. Building a new career in my forties was never going to be easy, yet I can't imagine doing anything else. The dream is so much bigger now than I had ever imagined. My original dream was more about what I would be able to do if I had the time to write. Now it's the chance to influence my world, or at least a corner of it. I have gotten the opportunities to do so much more than my mind could conjure.
Back to my loving money...Mike took a new position that would stretch all of us, including our budget for a while. It's a temporary change, but in the mean time, we would have to adjust to the new income, time shortage and possibility of him needing to move very far from home. I began thinking of what I could do to make things better. I am forever looking for signs to guide me when I feel like I have no answers to my endless questions.
I had seen these women who cut coupons and search for deals before and was awe struck by their ability to save hundreds, nay thousands of dollars at the grocery store. It took the one thing I have always been short on, and that was time. Now I had the time to look beyond the Sunday paper for deals. I have the time to cut coupons and make them work for me. I went on the hunt to find what it is they do that saves them so much money. I have been spending hours on-line to find sites to help me. Nate Berkus, an Oprah protege, has a show on in the morning. It boasted of having two women on as guests who were coupon, savings experts. I took a notebook and pen, watching carefully to see what they did. The site I now use is www.thekrazycouponlady.com. On the site she shows how to organize the coupons, find the deals and "stack" coupons. Being excitable, I was engrossed and totally in. I bought my binder, she suggested, the clear page covers, the filing tabs, all of it.
We spend approximately $1000.00 every month for groceries for 6 people. If you average that out it equals to $166.66 per person per month, or $41.66 per week. It's not a bad number as you can see. A person living on $41.66 per week is not an unreasonable thing. However, I felt we could do better. I decided to try my little coupon experiment, doing what the Krazy Coupon Lady said to do. I organized my coupons, put them into a binder and got as many as I could off the internet. I searched manufacturers sites too, for any deals not listed on the coupon database. If we used it, I hunted for it. The next thing I did was to get my stores circulars looking for sales or store coupons matching my manufacturing coupons. There were tons of things we use all the time that had both. My next step was to go out and use my coupon stacking method, stores coupons and manufacturer's coupons and see how it added up. This system delivered like Dominos! My main grocery bill was cut by 50%. I had meat, cheese and some produce in my basket, not all prepared foods like I had originally thought it would be. It was what had originally held me back, the idea that I would have to buy all prepared foods, instead of fresh like I was used to doing. By matching BOGOs with coupons I got meat for next to nothing. My original rule for meat was only to buy what was on sale. It had to be less than $2.00 per pound. By using coupons, BOGOs and stacking coupons, some of my meat was less than $0.50 per pound. Bingo, Jackpot, Yatzee! I bought $180.00 worth of groceries for $90.00. The lady behind me huffed and puffed at all my coupons as she had to wait for the check out girl to go through them all. I stood smiling the whole time as the register unwound the price backwards with every one. By the time she was done putting all of the coupons in, my total shocked everyone within ear shot. "Your total savings for today was $90.00?" The checker looked stunned, as did the "huffer" behind me. I almost danced out of the store, giggling like a school girl, thrilled to be able to tell Mike about the results of my experiment. I went to the drug store next and saved another 50%. I rinsed and repeated this several times. I will tell you that a certain store wouldn't honor some of my coupons and kept them anyway. I only saved about 20% and will not be back. The checker was a little surly and the prices ere just O.K. It is a Texas based store, which in normal circumstances I would try and be a patron of, to support my local retailers. But she wasn't nice, or patient and made me feel as though I was interrupting her day. I don't need that kind of headache so, so long store...there are bigger fish to fry.
Do you know that Walmart matches prices of other stores, even on generics? Say you know the price of a generic item that is on sale in a circular. You can go to the checker and ask for the same price on their equivalent generic item. Most times you can buy brand names cheaper this way than you could generic items.
A good friend of mine lives in the beautiful state of Arkansas. She has this down pat. She has saved her family a bundle by cutting coupons and stacking them. Now, she is an expert, while I am a beginner. This was my first go around trying the coupon experiment.
What I know for sure is, this works. When I organized my coupons for this week it took minutes versus hours thanks to my binder and file folder. I don't go to any store without them, and check online for any needed items too. I grocery shopped for the next 3 weeks and ended up saving 32% overall, which is equal to $201.00. because I was able to buy this way, I also was able to stock pile certain items, which will save me the next time I shop. Thanks to Superbowl weekend, I got 5 bags of chips for free, 4 12 packs of Coke for $9.00 and enough hot dogs in the freezer to keep my boys fed for a month.
The other thing I do is freeze almost everything. I make dinners ahead on Sunday, when I take the time to cook in mass. I freeze individual servings so the kids can take a packet out and make their own. I either re-use the bags or recycle them. I make my own bread, I am going to make my own frozen pizza this week, and my refrigerator will now only have items we use in a week instead of leftovers that get lost in the shuffle.
Although I am completely new at this, I am an expert on house renovation. I can take a project that would cost $30,000.00 and reduce the cost to $1,500.00. I know where to shop for faucets, cabinets, and granite tile for half the retail price. I have installed everything from cabinets, tile, and chandeliers (Mike is my partner in this). I know how to roof, frame, drywall and do finish work. If I don't know how to do it, I will find out how in a matter of hours. The guys at my local Home Depot practically know me by name. We have spent hours together going over the projects and figuring out how to get things done. I am also a frequent guest at our local hardware store for those impossible to find items(which I usually buy with a coupon!) I will take pictures of my work and do a blog on that also, especially for the girls who feel that construction isn't something they can do. I have never met a project I haven't been able to figure out.
I love money! I love money, the feel of it in my checkbook, as I skip my coupon cutting butt out the door of the store that just gave me my stuff at half the price.
Oh, and the granite tile counter the binder is sitting on...we put that in too, for less than you would think! ;^)

Dear Kellie - Tuesday, February 01, 2011 - Copyright 2007 Ourtribune.com

Dear Kellie - Tuesday, February 01, 2011 - Copyright 2007 Ourtribune.com

Get Happy Dammit!

I was thinking about what makes me happy. I am rarely, truly unhappy. Mostly because I find it to be a waste of time. I am Crappolla, queen of wasted anything. I rule my own waste. I don't like therefore I try to eliminate all I can. I used the title Crappolla Goddess of Waste at a "God and Goddess" party at my best friend Jim's house. I wore a crown of toilet paper rolls with polymer pooh, with toilet paper streamers. My wine glass was a miniature toilet, which Jim still has. It was a magical costume.
My point is, before my rambling brain rudely interrupted my cognitive thought process, is in order to be happy,. you have to be happy. Oh, that is a very zen statement, meaningless drivel for the average mover and shaker. Ask yourself, what are you moving and shaking? Is it worth it? Are you happy moving and shaking whatever stuff is going in whatever direction?
I am not one to sit and wallow in self pity, however I will tell you I allow myself some time for grief if that is what I feel. It is a place I visit, not where I reside. Even as I write this, I have a fever of unknown origin, I feel like crap and my hands are shaking uncontrollably. Writing is a bitch for me right now, but I know if I persevere, all will pass in time. Maybe I will be the one passing, but my point will be abundantly clear, regardless. No, I am not dying, to my knowledge, but one never really knows when time is up. This thought allows me to circle back over to the point of not wasting what time I have.
To be happy---one has to act happy, not giddy, not euphoric, just not all pissed off at stupid minor things that won't mean anything in the end of your life. Want to know the fastest way to prioritize your life? If it ain't going on your tombstone, then it doesn't really take the number one spot, does it? Think about it...people acknowledge military service, family, personal relationships, but nowhere can you find their job description, rude neighbors, or hostile retail help.
Don't smile through everything either. That is annoying, I don't care how much you paid for your perfect toothy grin. Be sincere. If you feel sad, then be sad and get over it. Ever see that guy that complains all the time? Hear the woman who gripes about her life non stop? If you sad, angry, pissed off, or depressed (not clinical, that is not what I am talking about here) Then you are that guy, that woman, and trust me no one wants to be around you. Now, don't start crying, because no one likes a crybaby either. I am telling you to make a different decision. It is a choice to be happy. It is a choice to be sad. Add up the days of your life when you were happy and sad. If sad out numbers happy, you are making bad decisions. You are choosing your own misery and most of us can't handle that repeatedly day in and day out.
You are now a "buzz kill". You are the very cure to the happiness I am referring to.
So, today, before the day ends and you flop face down on your bed, think about how you going to face tomorrow. If tomorrow turns out to be sad day, then take the day, maybe take the week, but not the month or the infinite ticking clock you may have allowed in previous situations.
Tomorrow, get up, think about what you have, what you are grateful for, set the tone of your own life. Effect everyone who comes in contact with you all day, making them smile or at the very least not want to slit their own wrists for spending time with you.
I am not a euphoric person, most days. I do have amazing days, when I am dancing in the "R" bar (the bar in our house) having my own personal celebration. I am not embarrassed and actually tend to make fun of the pucker butts who refuse to join in the fun. What I am is happy, content in the knowing that I have lead an amazing life, simply because everyday I show up for me and others.
If you "don't have ears", an expression a dear friend taught me about people who refuse to hear anything they don't like, then turn the page here. You may be terminally unhappy with a very poor prognosis. You alone can decide who you are and how you are.
So get happy, dammit. If not for yourself , then please do it for those of us who have to interact with you.

The Four Temperaments

Have you ever hard of the saying a "tempest in a tea pot?" I sort of feel like that is what is going on with us, or should I say "temperaments in a tea pot". There is so much changing going on, so much transition, it is like a mini hurricane blowing around the house, knocking over furniture, swirling up around the ceiling causing the ceiling fans to sway hard in concentric circles and back again. I have gotten caught up observing the different relationships in the house, literally "people watching" in my own living room. Each personality having familiarity, but so individual at the same time. Michael and I laugh about slowly becoming one person. He gaining softer breasts, me growing a matching mustache, we figure at some point in the next 20 years no one will be able to tell us apart. While we continue on our married life transitioning into the couple that looks alike, the kids grow more and more and separated from us and each other, but with one caveat; the children all adults, in a manner of speaking, look alike and act so similar, they drive each other nuts.
Naturally they blame me for their quirkiness, their ill temper, and let's not forget about the things they like least about themselves and each other. Turns out my biggest parental crime was raising them alike, similar, so they have just enough in common to get on each others nerves. As I sat one afternoon observing the adult children in the house, I decided to research different personality types. As I read through the descriptions, I realized we were all four temperaments on any given day. Here are the definitions I found that describe the Four Temperaments:


Sanguine

The Sanguine temperament personality is fairly extroverted. People of a sanguine temperament tend to enjoy social gatherings, making new friends and tend to be quite loud. They are usually quite creative and often daydream. However, some alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean very sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when pursuing a new hobby, interest is lost quickly when it ceases to be engaging or fun. They are very much people persons. They are talkative and not shy. For some people, these are the ones you want to be friends with and usually they become life long friends.



Choleric

A person who is choleric is a do-er. They have a lot of ambition, energy, and passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were cholerics. They like to be leaders and in charge of everything.


Melancholic

A person who is a thoughtful ponderer has a melancholic disposition. Often very considerate and get rather worried when they could not be on time for events, melancholics can be highly creative in activities such as poetry and art - and can become occupied with the tragedy and cruelty in the world. A melancholic is also often a perfectionist. They are often self-reliant and independent; one negative part of being a melancholic is sometimes they can get so involved in what they are doing they forget to think of others.


Phlegmatic

Phlegmatics tend to be self-content and kind. They can be very accepting and affectionate. They may be very receptive and shy and often prefer stability to uncertainty and change. They are very consistent, relaxed, rational, curious, and observant, making them good administrators . However they can also be very passive and aggressive.



I could state the obvious and name each kid to each different temperament since we have an even numbered count on both sides. We'll go oldest to youngest:

Christy is definitely the Choleric. Spend five seconds with her and you immediately see the leader she is as the eldest child and a person who constantly seeks answers. She is knowledgeable, because she never stops learning. She is a teacher by personality, rather than profession. Her organization is astounding to most. She is alphabetized, color coded and professional at all times.

Dan is the melancholic. This is also a no brainer. My boy can crap on a sandwich faster than any kid I know. He will find the problem, even when you're are certain none exists. He is a thoughtful ponderer, wanting to talk softly about personal things, opinions and ideas. When he is engrossed in something, nothing can distract him, trust me, I have tried.

Tom is the Phlegmatic, easy going even temperament, relaxed and generally content. The bulk of his personality has been one of going with the flow, with occasional bouts of passive aggression if things turn out badly.

Betty is Sanguine. She is out going, popular, busy, busy busy. Betty is as social as they come. She joins all kinds of groups and is often out spoken, and generally happy.


Most people who know me and my family think Betty is most like me. I get why they see the outgoing side of my personality, since my shy introverted side is reserved for home. My melancholy days are something I keep to myself unless I write about them. No point being Debbie Downer, so it is a time for quiet for me. I see each of my kids in all the temperaments, as I see myself. Each day I get to bare witness to an ever evolving group, who in absolute discovery, are allowing themselves to break out of their original mold. I see so much of their father, me and Michael in them too. They are a conglomeration of all influences. Every day brings it's own unique challenges lately, more challenging than usual, that will show the other temperaments that my kids possess. I feel sort of lucky to be witness to my kids breaking the cohesive bonds that have pigeon holed them into the obvious cliche. Most parents send their kids off to college and have to re-introduce themselves after four years. Even with Christy who lived away for four years, I never felt shut out of witnessing her life in real terms. The passive/aggressive part of me says "sort of lucky" because it also means I get to watch the storms come in often times leaving a path of destruction in its wake.
I am not totally convinced of my comfort level being an observer in my house rather than the usual leader, but I feel to push past it might mean I miss something extraordinary. How often do parents get to watch, really see, their kids change right before their eyes? My usual mode is to look up and notice it is a year later and I didn't notice the time.
I had felt like I was accomplishing nothing, but suddenly this morning I realized what a gift I had been offered in what appeared to me to be mass chaos. Of course I can write this because for right now it's quiet and serene, you know, like the calm before the storm.

I Got 99 Problems But an Itch Ain't One

To say we are going through some things would be the understatement of the last 5 years for my family. Kids are working, kids are are looking for work, some are in college, some are going back to college, the house is full of stuff from stem to stern with the animals are being separated by breed and temperament. The hostile takeover of Mike and my house is temporary, or at least we hope it is. Living in a frat house is not what we pictured for ourselves at this age. We are indeed surrounded by the young and restless.
And I stand corrected, of course, because I now have a rash in 4 different places due to stress. At least I am not losing my hair. That would Mike's job at this point. I was approached and accused recently, "Well, you let this happen." Did I? I don't really see it that way. My impact on the global economy is fairly small, and by fairly small, I mean, not at all. This "happened" because I wasn't willing to throw my kids out on the street because jobs are scarce. I should know, I looked for one myself. It is what it is.
Everyday I get up and face the daunting task of trying to climb out of our and others stuff. That is my current mission, to move through what looks like living in a storage unit, to living in a livable house. Boxes of each of our pasts sit idly by as we examine the contents to see what is worth keeping, and what is now simply a reminder of a past life. Mike and I shop for things like storage containers, shelves, other organizing tools in order to keep the 6 grown people from bursting out of the house we live in. Quite frankly, this whole process bores me. So much so that I find myself watching TV absent-mindfully sifting through what I guess I no longer care about.
I have been riveted by the protesters in Egypt. I watch the bravery of people fight for better for themselves, at any cost. My mind wanders to my own country and division we are facing on a fairly regularly basis. The constant name calling, the incessant insults that turn personal when ideology is what is in question, the slanderous and libelous things on the net and television by pundits who should for all intent and purpose know better, yet wisdom doesn't get you ratings , so ethics goes out the window. For me our own government feels pretty chaotic. I think, mostly because Congress has no idea how to do their job. I still have most of my civil liberties, so I don't protest in the streets. I politely disagree, vote my conscience, and write when I feel something is not just or decent. Name calling is too much work for me. Protesting would require me to abandon my task at hand, which although sounds enticing at first, I know I would have to face when my sign carrying days were over.
I sat sifting more stuff when I saw a celebrity, known for cocaine and porn stars, go to rehab. All I could think was "lucky guy, he gets three months to focus on himself". Mike and I would give a kidney to have that kind of time in peace and quiet. Sure, there is the whole withdrawal thing, public humiliation, loss of income, blah, blah, blah, but he gets to have three squares fixed for him, clean sheets and all the quiet he can handle.
My writing recently turned sarcastic because of the state of our union. I quit working on the books due to the issue that the only pertinent adjective of any of it these days is "bitter". I am perfectly fine with distasteful, but I draw the line at sour, so bitter is no good for my purposes. The books can wait. I am not panicked, yet. I could produce some piece of trifling crap about how life has handed me a raw deal, but there is enough out there that says the same thing, only those writers took it one step further and are now joined with the a fore mentioned celebrity in Betty Ford. I don't have that kind of commitment or time.