I'm Tired

Because Hippo has had a fever for two days now.  It's the only time in nearly a year he's had a fever.  And it won't go away.

All he wants to do is lay on me and cry.  He can't eat, can't sleep, can't play; and neither do I.

A baby should be able to play, practice crawling so he doesn't look drunk anymore, eat his heart content, Johnny Jump Up, nap, and laugh.

I figure it is a tooth coming in.  Please Tooth Fairy (who's got to be good for something related to teeth), let the tooth come tonight while I'm sleeping.

Therapeutic Thursdays--Excuses

Besides Hippo's updates I haven't come up with a feature I thought would hold anyone's interest.

Until now.

I figure if you would like an inside look on the world of therapy (DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT READ THE BOOK  THE THERAPIST TO GET YOUR INSIDER'S LOOK) I can provide that to you once a week, or as often as I feel like it--on Thursdays.

WARNING:  If you don't want to self-examine, do not tune in.

Question:  How many excuses do you make a day?

If you don't know, tomorrow take a tally.

FYI:  I will not be recommending a *healthy* number

Yesterday a caregiver of one of my adjudicated clients attempted to convince me I should not fail her (my client) from treatment after three therapist's attempts, in four different modalities of treatment, over the course of two years with this question to me:  "Does it help at all for me to tell you she (my client) comes from a long line of people who do not like talking about emotional or sexual things?"

My verbal response:  "No, not at all."

I  kept my nonverbal response, eye rolling, on hold until the caregiver left my office.

My thought response: Who DOES like to talk about sexual things with therapists????? And I don't blame your child for not wanting to talk about ANYTHING with you...

Moreover, excuses come in tricky disguises and so pay CLOSE attention to yourself.  If you decide to take on the challenge, that is.

Excuse making is considered, in therapy land, as a Cognitive Distortion.  AKA a Thinking Error. The loose definition of a Cognitive Distortion/Thinking Error is this:  a way to justify negative or ineffective behavior.  

Problem is, thinking errors invalidate you and keep you stuck in 1) negative thinking and thus behavior patterns and, worse, 2) keep you in negative and ineffective interpersonal cycles. Moreover, disallowing you to find full satisfaction in your daily life and/or relationships.

Let me say that again, this time louder (in case you missed it):

THINKING ERRORS INVALIDATE YOU

Excuse making makes one feel justified.  Unfortunately, it actually makes one's integrity questionable. In addition, excuse making marks a lack of personal insight and defensiveness. Defensiveness is the logo for...GUILT.

The opposite of excuse making is:  TAKING FULL RESPONSIBILITY

Remember:  A time when you had a consumer complaint and you took your complaint to a customer service representative.  Did they make excuses?  Did you get INFURIATED?  Okay, maybe you're not the type to become infuriated.  Were you left unsatisfied? Did the service provider lose your business as a result?

Thinking errors like excuse making are not only verbal, but often behavioral. 

Think:  What can you find in your behavior that is disguising an excuse?

I thought about giving an example (had it all written out) and erased it; find an example yourself.  Really think, observe, and evaluate.  

WARNING:  If you are thinking, observing, and evaluating someone else you have just entered into another thinking error.

The purpose of this post is not to sit on a high horse and pretend I never make excuses--and if you point out to me my excuses I will likely punch you in your face the next time I see you.  And if I never see you I will hate you from afar.  And to make you feel a bit better, I made a doozy of an excuse yesterday that is still bothering me.

The purpose is to suggest something small you can become aware of in order to empower you in your life and to help you get more satisfaction from your relationships; for you to tap into a realm of happiness you may have been missing.  

Final Step:  Set a goal to reduce your excuse making.

Hint:  Be aware of the excuses you don't say aloud--the ones you tell yourself.

Hallefreakinlujah

My Mommy and Daddy Only Have One Month Left

with a baby.

Because next month I will be a toddler.

Today I turned 11 months-old.  My mommy has the flu and my daddy had to work so I spent most of the day with my Grandma Jeri and my Auntie Shelby.  

I have eight teeth now.  My mommy thinks I am getting my one year molars because usually I LOVE to get my teeth brushed but I have been crying hysterically the past few nights when she tries to brush them.  When I cry hysterically I get really angry and my face turns bright red.  I scream and holler until I get my way; sometimes I have to scream and holler for a long time because my mommy is really stubborn.  Sometimes I don't have to scream and holler for a long time because my daddy is sort of a pushover.  

I learned how to sit up from laying down this month.  When I finally figured it out I thought it was so cool I laid down and got up for an hour straight.  My mommy was happy that I occupied myself.  Even though I can't crawl yet I can go wherever I want (with the exception of up/down stairs) by rolling around. My mommy LOVES it when I roll over to her to give her kisses.  I made sure I gave her a lot this morning when she wasn't feeling good.  Plus, I can pull myself into a standing position and I can stand on my own for several seconds.  I like to fall, on purpose, from standing (the trust fall) and have my mommy or daddy catch me.  

I chit chat a lot for my age.  I pretty much have something to say about everything. And I have a special voice with which I speak to the cat (it's much more high-pitched than my regular voice.  My mommy's family will likely call it 'cat-talk').  When my mommy points her finger and says, "NO!  NO!"  I point my finger back at her and yell, "HA-YAH!"  The first time I did this I couldn't tell if my mommy's wide eyes and red face meant that she thought it was funny or if she was enraged.  

I like to stand up in my crib and put my legs through the rails.  You should see the bruises I have on my legs from doing this.  My mommy is worried someone is going to call CPS on her eventually.  You may be wondering why I don't have a bumper pad to prevent me from doing this.  I used to have one but I wouldn't stop fooling around with it and my mommy got worried I would either suffocate myself or choke myself with it.  And I learned to lift it up anyway so I would be putting my legs through the rails anyway.

I weigh more than 25 lbs and I'm not sure if I still register tall.  My hair is grown in just a bit more and my mommy and daddy enjoy fashioning it into different styles.

I have a keen sense of humor and my mommy can often trick me into laughing instead of crying. I think she is really funny most of the time but sometimes I think she is mean especially when she gets angry with me for making a GINORMOUS mess when I eat.  For example, I like to hit the loaded spoon so the food goes flying around the kitchen.  This makes my mommy furious and she usually ends up saying naughty words and holding my hands down, which in turn makes me angry and so then I spit my food out onto her.  We both need a time out after such meals.

I am still very friendly.  Much to my mommy's embarrassment and chagrin my favorite store is Walmart because I make many friends there.  I wave and chit chat.  I also like the pharmacy because standing in long lines gives me a perfect opportunity to capture a crowd with my bright personality and silliness.  People love me and my mommy can't seem to go anywhere anymore without having to talk to millions of people about me.  My new favorite social scene is the gym daycare, however.  The daycare providers LOVE me (and that is an understatement). They yell out my name when my mommy carries me through the door to drop me off. When she picks me up they always tell her how cute and happy I am to play with the toys and to play with the other kids.  My mommy says it is a good thing I am cooperative about going because it is really all my fault she has to go to the gym in the first place.  I remind her that it is all really my daddy's fault, to stop complaining and to drop and give me 20 (sit ups that is, because what is the deal with her saggy abs?)

I love all of the same things that I have always loved like my kitty, books and reading time, being outside, my stuffed frog "Lily", and my spit-up rags.  I really love to tear up and eat paper.  I especially love to bite chunks out of my board books.  My mommy always catches me, even when I try and be sneaky, and I yell at her when she digs the pieces out of my mouth.  I still hate it when my mommy and daddy get me out of the tub before I am ready and when my mommy ignores my attempts to get her full attention for 24 hours per day.  She says that sometimes we need to play by ourselves to save our sanity and our relationship but I think she is full of it. 

I have dropped a nap; now just one nap in the early afternoon.  This makes my mommy's life easier but I do get a little grumpy some days and my mommy threatens to add another nap if I don't change my attitude.  She says, "You freak, you sleep." 

If you have any questions for me you are more than welcome to post one to the comments and I will answer them.  I can even answer hard life questions--babies are really good at philosophizing.

Welcome Home G

A little know fact, if you have only known me in adulthood:  I love baseball.

And I love the Seattle Mariners the most.

Growing up I tried really hard to be athletic.  I just wasn't.  I just am not.  Back then I loved two sports:  baseball and NCAA basketball.  But I'm not talking about my 1992 obsession with Bobby Hurley in this post.

My freshman year of high school (1993) I wrote the only fan letter of my life to my favorite sports star.  I got his address from my brother's Sports Illustrated for Kids, where I also learned he had attempted suicide as a teenager by swallowing a whole bottle of Ibuprofen. (When I told this to L last night, surprising him with my sports trivia knowledge, he replied, "Good thing it wasn't Tylenol.")  I think I cried when I wrote that letter, overcome with inspiration (sniff, sniff).

In adulthood I have become disillusioned with professional sports--are you kidding me Ben Roethlisberger?  $27.7 million in one season?!  Are you kidding me American public/culture? This is on what we invest our hard-earned cash?

And that is just one athlete...

You know, there are still starving children in Africa.  There are still starving children in Appalachia.  There are still starving people EVERYWHERE while you're cruisn' around on whatever six-digit motorcycle with which you decided to replace your crashed one.

Despite my disillusionment clearly I still soak up meaningless sports information.

Last night, while watching Sports Center (with L, I NEVER watch Sports Center on my own; at least not since the year 2000) it was reported that Ken Griffey Jr. just signed a one year deal to come home to Seattle.  Likely his last.  I got teary eyed.  L thought the tears were due to my stomach flu. Well, that too.

I felt something I haven't felt since the Mariner's won the AL West in 1997 and sent five players to the the All-Star game.  That feeling I had when I first saw Ken Griffey Jr., in real life at the Kingdome, hit a homer.  The feeling I had the first time I sat in Safeco field (and the game almost rained out despite the state-of-the-art retractable roof).  I got excited and hopeful (disillusion's nemesis).  I GOT VIBES!

Vibes are something you feel when Ken Griffey Jr. is about to hit a homer.

If I didn't have the stomach flu, today I would be wearing my Seattle Mariner's sports paraphernalia--boxers, v-neck T-shirt with the old colors and logo, New Era cap, "Ken Griffey Jr. for President" pin--and waving my Ken Griffey Jr. pendent flag.  

When You're Helping You're Happy

And so is Mommy!

Does This Make You Feel Nervous?

This Is What L Got Me...

For Valentine's Day...

I'm not sure what to think.

This Week

This is the fourth post I've added tonight so keep reading.

My new simple and minimal life took a dramatic turn for the complicated and maximal this week. 

Monday:  Worked out--legs.  Cracked the whip while L and I deep cleaned the middle level of the house.  Cooked and prepped for my Book Club meeting for Tuesday.  Took care of every one of Hippo's needs.

Tuesday:  Dropped Hippo off at the babysitters, went to work and saw 8 clients, came home and continued cooking, madly, for my Book Club meeting.  The menu included my sister's hot corn dip (with a few twists) and pita chips, rustic beef stew with homemade foccacia bread for dipping (covered in my home grown Rosemary), lemon curd tart with lemon whipped cream, pear clafouti with cinnamon and vanilla whipped cream, and lemon water.  This menu was genius, if I do say so myself.  Hosted my book club until the last member left at 10:30 pm.  I think I committed to running the Ogden half marathon some time before the meeting ended...Cleaned everything up including all the dishes.  Don't worry, L picked Hippo up and took care of his every need.

Wednesday:  Went to work and saw 10 clients--10 very hard clients.  Came home and took care of Hippo's every need.

Thursday:  Worked out--arms--and almost went postal when the junior high kids invaded the weight room.  I felt like I was at work but I DIDN'T feel like I had to be nice to them.  Cooked dinner at 1:00 pm so L could take it to work that night.  Went to the library and stayed until the glares of the quiet folks drove us out.  Started to read The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold.  Took care of Hippo's every need.

Friday:  Got up early so I could work out--legs and bike--and get my hair done.  Grudgingly went to L's friend's birthday party which turned out to be pretty fun.  BUT, this was after L took us to the wrong restaurant and when he realized his mistake yelled loudly, "You've got to be f------ sh----- me..."  That was embarrassing.  Took care of Hippo's every need.

Saturday:  Woke up early to attempt to train for a half marathon (I'm not sure I'm really going to do this).  I was able to run three miles pretty well (to think exactly two years ago I ran nine miles).  Cleaned the fridge, did laundry, bought a new car seat, went grocery shopping, cooked dinner, took care of Hippo's every need, ate six chocolate chip cookies (uh, I ran three miles after I worked out my arms so I get to if I want), blogged, and watched recorded cooking shows.

Hippo has become the gym's most popular attendee.  When we walk into the day care the providers exclaim, "HIPPO!" and he gets giddy in my arms.  The care providers tell me how good he is and how much fun he has which makes the other children have fun.  

This morning L didn't want to go to the gym with us and after I laid the guilt on thickly he finally agreed.  When we walked into the day care room to drop Hippo off one of the care providers said, "Wow Hippo, your mommy works out all of the time!" to which I dramatically looked at L until he realized he should be a little more dedicated himself.

I Know It's Been a Long Time...

I've been too busy to blog due to all the simplifying and the minimizing...(?)

I think your will enjoy this one.  Isn't he hilarious?