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?

Ten Month Update

Demonstrative of Hippo's stubborn personality, he refuses to give an update on himself. Hence, completed in my voice.

Hippo is now pushing 25 pounds which means he has outgrown his infant car seat/carrier. Despite the very expensive price tag of the next stage (convertible) car seat I am actually happy to be done with the old one. It has become quite awkward and cumbersome.  He refuses to sit in the infant carrier quietly and happily anywhere which means we have already begun taking him out of it at the car and carrying him into the store, church, library, babysitter's, etc. 

He continues to be tall; 12 month clothes barely fit at this point.  

We can now report his eyes are permanently blue, which isn't too much of a surprise since both parents sport blue ones.  (Did you hear? They changed blue eyes to a dominant gene.)  As you can see, he has blonde hair which still hasn't grown in thickly.

Hippo has now mastered rolling around the room (and crib, unfortunately) like an Olympic athlete.  He is definitely interested in attempting to crawl but he struggles with a few main crawling ingredients:  patience, persistence, and forward motion.  Moreover, we are happy to report he can scoot backwards.  Child development books and websites (and friends, therapists/development experts, stages timelines I dug up from work's file cabinet, and the pediatrician) say this is often the precurser to forward motion!  In addition, he can balance himself while in the standing position for several seconds.  He loves to use the walker he got for Christmas.  And he still loves his Johnny Jump Up, a lot.  He indicates to us he would like to Johnny Jump in two steps:  1. Throw a Temper Tantrum (throwing self on floor and yelling) 2. Jumping up and down when you pick him up.  His new thing is to walk around in the jumper and fiddle around with things I don't want him to fiddle with or spin around on one foot (sort of like a figure skater, which does not make L very enthusiastic about Hippo's emerging aptitudes).  

Despite his lack of physical achievement, Hippo is quite a talker.  He is now saying several things including:  mama, dada, ba (for food/hunger), bu (for peek-a-boo), hi (which comes out more like, "ha"), and dee (for something that is neat or cool).  I am trying to teach him animal sounds but he hasn't done any yet.  When I sing to him, "Jesus Wants Me For A Suuuuuuuuuuuu--" he will yell "BI" which in turn I yell, "BEAM!"

He is able to point, imitate, clap, kiss, play peak-a-boo with his own hands and eyes, point out mama and dada, nose, lips, teeth, and ear.  

Things he likes in order of importance:  daddy, other kids (today at the store he was leaning out, almost falling out, of the cart to get this other kid's attention), spit rag, Johnny Jump Upping, food (especially Cheerios and any fruit--new fav are grapes), mommy, books/nighttime reading (new fav book is a baby animal book where the animals pop out), going outside, brushing his teeth/his toothbrush, bathing, Damnit, riding in the shopping cart, cars, and making friends with strangers in public, helping Mom fold laundry, and The Simpson's (no joke).

Things he does not like in no particular order:  cooperating, respecting "NO", playing alone, feeding himself a bottle, using a sip cup, quiet time, church, and being loved and hugged.

Of course, he still loves music and dancing.  His current favorites are Beyonce's "If I Was a Boy", Akon's "Make up", Killers' "Human", Toby Keith's "God Love Her", and Mommy's rendition of "Jesus Wants me for a Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun BEAM!".  Oh, and of course U2's "Put Your Boots On."

Simplify and Minimize

...is our family's theme for 2009.  Many areas of our lives are being affected:

Work:

I've cut down to 16-18 hours per week at work.  It feels like I am doing the same amount of work as I was in 40 hours a week just a month and a half ago, however, even though I have cut more than 40 clients from my caseload.  At last count I have 30 clients; ideally I will have between 20 and 25.

BTW, I am working toward private practice which is anti-simplify and minimize...not sure what I'm thinking or doing at this point in time but I've just dropped a large sum of money on software to make this possible.  Next stop, liability insurance...  

L decided not to take Organic Chemistry, for which he was originally registered, because he's just plain worn out.  And he only has two jobs now.

Home and Family:

Even though we wish we could amputate a few choice members of the family (just kidding, geez) we are instead deep cleaning every nook and cranny of the house and amputating items we no longer use/need.  No drawer will go unopened and no box un-emptied.  Out of the office alone, 7 bags of trash (which is just shameful).  It took us two weeks to get through the top level of the house; the DI pile for that 1000 square feet of the house filled up the entire upstairs hallway.  Next in line is the middle level.

I've been cooking nearly every night of the week, which makes my heart sing.  After reviewing our budget L suggests we are actually saving money (minimizing) in the food department now that we eat out much less.  This is despite buying pricey formula.  

Lifestyle:

We are minimizing our BMIs by working out.  Let's just say I haven't been this sore in more than a decade, and I've learned how to snowboard and trained for a marathon in that time. Holy smokes, I can barely move let alone carry a 25 LB immobile infant up two flights of stairs 1,000,000 times daily.  

In addition to the weight and health benefits of working out I am rediscovering how simple life challenges seem when my muscles feel as if a cat has used them as a scratch surface.  Moreover, my mind and personal challenges are calm and my priorities appear more clear.

Social:

Social situations are challenging for me.  In my attempts to simplify this area of my life my goal is to not over think and just do.  Instead of worrying about what others are thinking and feeling I am just going to do.  Just do it.  Just do it.  Just invite them, just call her, just ignore it, just overlook it, just forgive it. 

Spiritual:

In an attempt to minimize my sinful nature I have given up further ink.  

Quirks, Winter Ed.

This is the best picture I have of Hippo's favorite person on the planet, his cousin Buddy.  Hippo was enamored by Buddy anytime he was near.

Hippo and his cousin Sambo.  Hippo loved Sambo but Sambo was somewhat indifferent to Hippo.  Even though Sambo is three months older than Hippo, they weigh the same.  On the other hand, even though Sambo is only three months older, he is light years ahead on physical development since he can crawl at the speed of light, stand up, walk a few steps, etc. while Hippo is just now learning to roll to get places.

Hippo with Grandma Debi and Sambo.  

L:

-He would rather ski than do anything else in the world (other than eat free food)

-He talks about skiing, in the winter time, more than he talks about anything else

-He won't stop talking about skiing

-Last Christmas when I bought him new skis he retrieved them from the UPS man and went skiing with them before I even knew they had come.  Weeks later when I thought they had not yet been delivered I asked him slyly if he had seen anything delivered in long boxes.  He said, "Oh, you mean my skis?  They're in my car, I used them last week."

-All he got for Christmas this year was a ski helmet

-Even though he has to get up at 5:00 am to make it work on time he fiddles with his IPhone for hours in bed at night

-He loves it when it snows

-He has special "vacation rules" which are basically he can eat whatever he wants and however much he wants without regard to money, calories, fat grams, or convenience.  If I act annoyed he says, "Hey, I'm on vacation."

-He considers shoveling the driveway (of snow) a workout and justification for not working out

Hippo:

-He gets more excited to see his five year-old cousin than he has ever gotten to see me

-He can move his legs in a walking motion but he cannot move them in a crawling motion

-He does not know how to crawl but he knows how to turn on the music of his mobile

-He will cry for two hours straight if he is not in the mood to sleep, even if he is extremely tired

-He refuses to feed himself a bottle, he would rather go hungry

-He loves the doctor and is a really good boy when being examined

-His smile resembles Elvis's

-He will Johnny Jump Up for hours and hours

-He gets annoyed when people, including his parents, snuggle him

-He has never liked laying in bed with us

-He dances to hymns at church

-He loves it when we read to him.  He recognizes a book after one reading

-He will stop crying if taken outside

-He loves cars--watching them drive by, playing with toy cars, riding in the car, etc.

-He likes to be out and about, despite the cold

Me:

-I hate the winter

-I hate the cold

-I hate being cold

-I hate the snow

-I hate being wet (due to snow getting on me)

-I hate skiing/snowboarding, even the mention of it

-I hate driving in snow or on ice, or even if it is cold and there might be ice

-I hate brushing snow off my car (I've tried driving without brushing the snow off and I regretted it because driving in snow or on ice is much worse without visibility)

-I hate being woken up to the sound of a snow plow on my street--it is loud

-I hate trying to get the mail in the snow

-I hate trying to get the garbage to the street in the snow, or back to the house

-I love snow boots, however

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.

You Have Stolen My Heart / Thanksgiving

WARNING:  If you're not family you may want to skip this one because it may be a little boring to those who don't innately love Hippo.  Hippo has taken to dancing when he is feeling the music.  He danced to the RS practice hymn last Sunday which proves he loves even church music.

Thanksgiving was Hippo's best day in his eight months of life.  He was given a lot of things to eat including turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams, pumpkin pie, apple pie and vanilla ice cream, and stuffing.  He LOVED everything and was the hit of the party.  

No, Hippo is not crawling yet.  I finally bought him a toy that claims it "encourages crawling." Hmph, false advertising.

He says "Ma" and "Mama" for me.  Folks find it funny that he yells these at me already when he wants something or if he is irritated with me.  I think he says "Ba" for food or when he is hungry, not specific to his bottle though.  He hasn't figured out that L is "Dadadadadada" yet.  

Since we ate at a restaurant for L's proclaimed favorite holiday I thought I'd make him a pumpkin pie for dessert last night.  After reviewing pie crust recipes and viewing tutorials online I chose an all butter (for the fat) recipe.  Unfortunately it didn't occur to me that this recipe was best for pre-baked pie shells until after I baked the entire pie.  So when L got home from work I wanted to show him what the bottom of the pie looked like through the glass dish so he could decide if it looked wrong or not. I'm sure you can figure out what happened next...THE PIE FELL OUT OF THE DISH ONTO MY OUTSTRETCHED ARMS!  L laughed and I cried a little.  L salvaged what he could and when I anxiously asked him how the crust turned out he said, "Well, it's a bit on the flaky side."  Despite the falling-out-of-the-dish tragedy and despite L's lack of palate sophistication I guess I succeeded after all. 

Cow Love

Jordan this one is for you!