Happy Birthday Lala

Recently, while doing nightmare work with an 13 year-old cancer survivor I asked her to tell me about her worst nightmare. She related the following:

I was sitting in a room filled with water. My sister was next to me and suddenly I felt really mad at her and so I pushed her into the water. She drowned. I felt scared and so I ran away. But I felt really bad that I had just killed my sister and so I ran back to the water room and pulled her out of the water. I gave her CPR and then she began to fill up like a balloon and then she was all better. I felt so happy then.

When I woke up I felt like such a jerk. I mean, what is wrong with me that I would kill my sister?

I've never told you this before. When I was 11 I had the worst nightmare I've ever had. A factory came alive and kidnapped you. The factory sent a ransom note that demanded I go to the factory. When I got there the factory told me that it was all my fault that it kidnapped you--it kidnapped you because of all the mean things I had done to you over the years.

That's when I woke up.

I felt really guilty and sad and traumatized by this dream, I still do to some degree. Hearing my client tell me her dream reminded me of my dream years ago. Her sister is two years older than her just like you are to me. They fight a lot, just like we did.

BUT...

I remember the good times a lot more than I remember the bad.

I remember the time I got invited to the mall but didn't have any money. You gave me your $7 so I could go and have fun.

I remember writing things on the bottom of the top bunk.

I remember our room re-arrangments. You wanted to plan out the re-arrangement before we would get started and you would diagram it on a piece of paper. We would consult the diagram each step of the re-arranging process. You would promise me you wouldn't be bossy if I would just help you with the plan.

I remember "peaches, plums, and alphalfa."

I remember playing Rummy for hours and hours and hours. I always was a poor sport, you never were.

I remember riding the Metro Bus to Clackamas Town Center.

I remember the shirt you gave me for Christmas in like 1993, I still have it. I still wear it.

I remember the time Weiner broke down in Woodburn.

I remember your so-flat-of-a-pillow-can-it-actually-be-a-pillow? And your yellow pull-over robe you wore to youth conference. And those sandals you wore every day and eventually duck-taped when you were a senior in high school. And "THE CLICKING!" And your love of sour patch kids. And the time you wore the gay pride parade shirt to Grandma Hazel's house. And Brent Castle. And playing Barbies. And when you got your mission call and then had the guts to listen to the Spirit's promptings instead, even when it got super hard. And how "Angels We Have Heard On High" was your favorite Christmas song (is it still?). And the laundry basket you gave me I still have. And playing raquetball at BYU and talking about having children and me having a feeling that you were suffering from the challenges of infertility and not knowing what to say because my heart was breaking for you. And the first time I met G...and then when he was "Uninformed." And how when I freaked out after I went through the temple you were there to calm me down. And the letters you wrote me when you went away to college. And believing you, when I didn't believe so much, that The Church is true. And watching you read 10 pages of the Bible each night to finish it on time for seminary. And reading your articles in The Daily Universe and feeling proud. And you apartment in Wymount. And when you were chosen for Buddy. And when Buddy was born. And when Buddy was blessed. And when Buddy was sealed and that was the first time our entire family was in the temple together. And when I was worried about your feelings when I wanted to tell you about being pregnant, and how you supported me anyway. And when you were chosen for Sambo. And when Sambo was born. And when Sambo was blessed. And when Sambo was sealed. And when Hippo's crying was so incessant you helped empower me to do something about it.

You emailed me awhile back about this story. I did follow the story after you told me about it and was so overcome with grief and appreciation for the sister relationships I didn't know how to effectively communicate it. The story reminds me that I have been very blessed with a sister who would be willing to do just as much for me as these sisters do for theirs.

Thanks for being a sister to me. Needless to say, I've needed you.

A Typical Day In The Life Of...

A full time

    

                    Therapist

                    and

                    Mother

                    and

                    Wife

                    and

                    Human               (at least most of the time)

It snowed all day.  I was late to my morning meeting as a result. 

I wore my snow boots but carried my new brown cow print/patent leather wedges into the building and swiftly changed into them.

Later, a seven year-old girl said to me, "Um, you shouldn't wear shoes like that when it's snowing." It is nice to be lectured instead of being the lecturer. 

Later, I hung out with three boys in the same foster home (ages 7, 12, and 18) for half an hour in the waiting area instead of doing work.  We had so much fun coming up with nicknames for each other:  7 year-old=toothless lizard, 12 year-old=kicking vacuumer, 18 year-old=reeking wrestler, 30 year-old=weird wedge wearer.

Later, L called and I spoke to Hippo over speaker phone.  He sounded happy.

Later, I told one of my oldest clients I was discouraged because he continues to lie.  The exact line was, "I feel discouraged because I thought this lying thing was headed somewhere positive."  I think that was a stroke of genius.

Later, while driving home I heard my two favorite Christmas songs, "Feliz Navidad" and "I Won't Be Home For Christmas" (Blink 182).

Later, I signed loan papers for my new car.  I'll miss the Land Rover.  I'm looking forward, however, to a heated seat that works (once you go heated, you don't go back).

Later, I helped L bath Hippo and wished him (L) a safe trip to work (that was after I ate the ENTIRE chocolate covered Oreo we were supposed to share because he yelled at me for locking the car).

Later, I played moroccas with Hippo while singing, "La Cacca-Racca" in my best Mexican accent, which turns out sounding more Asian, which he LOVES.

Later, after I put Hippo in bed, I made six dozen pumpkin cookies with caramel glaze to serve L's step-family coming over tomorrow evening.

Later, I watched the dance scene in "Napoleon Dynamite" which instantly made me feel much better, even though I wasn't feeling bad.

Later, while climbing up the basement stairs I realized my butt cheeks are sore and I can't figure out what exercise I've done to cause this.  

I'm Nine Months

My mommy and daddy cannot believe how many milestones I've hit in just one week.  It all started with me rolling from my back to front all by myself!  I don't do it really well yet, but at least I can now.  Also, I don't get as mad being on my tummy anymore.  A few times I've even gotten into the crawl perch, but nothing really happens other than a little bit of rocking back and forth.  My mommy says my brain is trying to figure out how to crawl. 

Here I am jumping in my Johnny Jump Up.  I used to just hang in it because I didn't know what to do but clearly I've figured it out this week.  My mommy could not believe it yesterday when I jumped, enthusiastically, for one hour and a half straight.  The only reason I stopped was because it was bed time.  I've never ever occupied myself for more than 20 minutes (and that has only happened three times in nine months) and my mommy was able to accomplish more than she thought possible.  

In the packet my pediatrician gave my mommy Monday at my nine month check up it said that nine month-olds have a lot of energy; that is an understatement for me.  I love to scream in happiness and in anger.  I love to laugh and play and rough-house.  I love to eat, especially all of the special food from the holidays.  I love to clap my hands and give my mommy five.  I also give my mommy kisses but I refuse to give my daddy kisses.  I prefer my daddy, however, in the daytime which hurts my mommy's feelings.  I still would rather her feed me, though, and I like it when she comforts me when my daddy gets too rough.  

I throw temper tantrums more than ever when I don't get what I want.  I usually throw myself on the floor and then when I realize I hurt my head when I do that I really freak out.  

I am in the 80th percentile for weight and height.  People think I am adorable even when I have attitude.  People can't resist wanting to hold me.  Yesterday at a family party one of my daddy's cousins who does not like babies couldn't help himself when he saw me.  He asked my mommy to hold me even though there were more than 10 babies to choose from; he said I was by far the cutest one.  It kills my mommy that I am a good boy in public (though she is also thankful) because most people don't believe her when she tells them I am naughty at home.  It's just that I get bored with my mommy and daddy.  I wish I had brothers and sisters because I LOVE other kids.  My mommy told me to forget about it when I asked for a brother for Christmas.  

I still love music and my new favorite song is Akon's "Right Now."  When my mommy sings it to me I get really excited and I wave my arms and laugh.  

Finally, I can pull myself into the standing position if I am sitting backwards on my mommy's crossed legs.  My mommy thinks I could probably do it at other times but I haven't generalized the information yet.  

I Need A Little Christmas Right This Very Moment

Research identifies 5 markers of a healthy family.

Traditions are one.

Think about what you look forward to most about the holidays.  I bet it's a tradition.  

One of my favorite family traditions growing up was my sister's birthday party. She was born on Christmas Eve (which she loves) and every year we had the family and many of her friends come by.  When we were in piano lessons we would put on a concert of Christmas Carols we were forced to learn (I can't believe my family members stomached through that year after torturous year). When we were little we would strut down our long hallway in fashion shows for my grandmas--my brother was always the hit of the show.  After the festivities my sister, brother, and I would have a slumber party in the bedroom my sister and I shared.  My brother and I would wake up early and try and coax my sister out of bed, which never really worked.

And my very favorite food tradition is my Grandma Hazel's "Snacks," which is homemade Chex Party Mix that she would throw in several varieties of crackers in addition to the traditional ingredients.  And every year I'd get yelled at for picking "the good things out."

L and I have started a few traditions since we've been married.  Here's one: we go to the store each year to pick out a Christmas tree ornament, each, to put on the year's tree.  This derived  from us not having any ornaments at all when we got married.  Our annual trip to the Christmas aisle has created some funny memories.  This is the ornament L picked out the first year: 

Every year since we argue about who really picked it out because L is embarrassed about it now.

This is the ornament Hippo picked out this year:

Here is the one Damnit picked out:

Later she beat it up:

Cashing in a fun tradition was well needed after the week we had.  On Monday there was a crisis involving one of my favorite clients which tore my heart apart. She will be okay, I guess, but the outcome was not optimal despite my great efforts.  Further, L found out that day he didn't get a position in the particular ICU he was hoping.  He was more disappointed than I have ever seen him. Fortunately this had little to do with his skills and work performance and everything to do with politics.  Though still disappointed we feel the place he did get a job will be beneficial for his long term plan and will open up wanted opportunities.

Tuesday evening as I was gathering my things together to leave the office I noticed I had a voicemail.  I decided to listen to it, even though I usually save end-of-day voicemail for the next day.  Unfortunately it was a guardian of one of my incarcerated clients leaving me the most threatening voicemail of my career...and life.  There were few staff left in the office and it took me several hand-wringing minutes to find security.  Don't worry too much the police are now involved and I am considering pressing charges.  My company has been very supportive in managing this situation to where I feel safe and secure (well, as good as I can possibly I guess).  The worst part of the threat had little to do with the things she said about me, but the things she said about Hippo.  Of course she doesn't know him, but since they have been my clients for some time I knew them when I was pregnant.  Therapists tend to be guarded for such reasons and it always frustrated me I was not able to hide that part of my life but I figured nothing bad would actually happen.  

That event was overshadowed by this one:  When I got home that night L informed me his dad's new wife was in a coma and expected to pass away in the next 24 hours.  We were invited to pay our last respects which I felt uncomfortable about since we are not intimate family and I felt this time should be for those who knew her and loved her most, like her parents, her siblings, and her children.  We decided, however, we should go to support L's dad.  It was a very good thing we went because when we arrived the anxiety in the home was so thick one could barely breathe.  L was able to explain the situation to her children and to his dad so they were all on the same page and understood exactly what choices they had. They finally all agreed on what was best.  L's dad called at 2:00 am to say she had passed away an hour earlier.  

Wednesday evening I began feeling a cold coming on.  By the time Thursday afternoon came around I was extraordinarily sick (with my annual sinus infection) and so I left work early canceling the remainder of my appointments. It was a HUGE mistake to cancel my own appointments.  I got chewed out by a few clients when they found out in addition to that day I would be canceling next week due to the services I would be attending for L's dad's wife.  Can you believe the nerve of some people?  I finally said to one father, "I can help a lot of things but I cannot help the fact that your son has been a slacker in his treatment for the past 18 months, nor can I help when people in my family die. Maybe I need to have the conversation with his probation officer instead of you." Needless to say he backed off but I have a grave feeling this is not the end of my clients' complaints.

In addition to all of the other crap going on this week I was not able to say goodbye to a very good friend moving to Mexico indefinitely, due to being so sick.  I also found out our other friend, who shares our babysitter, is so unsatisfied with her services, because their child gets beat up by her child, they have pulled their child.  It makes me worry Hippo will be the new target but two days notice is not long enough to find a new babysitter.  Thankfully we only need her two and a half  more days before my Christmas vacation. Also this week, L's long time best friend's child had a cancer scare but tests this week ruled that out, thank goodness.  

Even though it's been a week of tragedy, disappointment, worry, and stress we feel blessed to have our jobs, to have our health, to have our beautiful home, to have our working (barely sometimes) cars, to have a loving kitty, and to have supportive families.  It's been hard to stay in the Christmas Spirit this season but our family Christmas traditions bring us back to what's important. 

Here's a funny picture of Hippo putting the star on the tree.

What Were They Thinking?

Our administrative assistant is near retirement; she accepted the job because she was displaced when the program that she managed was closed two years ago.  She is great.  She is like our department grandma.  BUT...

She's a little rigid.  

She's a little anal.

She redirects us when we're late, when we leave something on the printer for too long, when we refuse to answer our phones, and when we do anything she feels is not productive.  

She wants to make sure everything, EVERYTHING, is done by the book.  She does not leave one rock unturned or one therapist un-lectured in her quest to be thorough.

I have to walk by her fish-bowl office in order to get to my office and so if she has things she would like me to improve upon mornings are her prime opportunity to lecture me. Unfortunately, mornings are the worst time to lecture me.

Every monday morning I do the same routine:  pretend I'm listening to her as she lectures me on leaving five minutes early on Friday, walk into her office while saying, "Mmm Hmm, Mmm Hmm", and check my box.  This Monday I noticed something oddly 3D in my box under some paperwork.  I pulled out a braided fake-hair extension.  There's a lot of things in life I don't want to touch without proper gloving and used hair extensions are no exception.  Between my pinched pointer finger and thumb I held up the hair extension as far extended from by body as physically possible and said to her in disgust, "What is this?"  

"I think that belongs to your client."  She states simply, innocently.

"Soooooo...?"

"I think it fell off her head last week after you left early Friday."  She calmly replies.

"Soooooo...?"

"You need to make sure she gets it back."  She says with authority.

I walked over to the garbage can and violently threw it away with a downward whip of my hand. And then I pumped a large amount of hand sanitizer into my palm and proceeded to dramatically sanitize my hands and the entire length of both arms.  "That is weird and gross!"  I cried as I made a swooping exit from her office.  

She means well but there's a line one should not cross.