Twinkle Little Star

Candle of Concern; Candle of Gratitude

In most UU churches, there is a part of the service where you can go up and light a candle of joy or concern or hope or gratitude for someone or some thing or event. Larger Churches do a collective one or have a limit to the number of people who can go up and light and talk (first 5 or whatever). Our church is small, so it is kind of whoever wants to go up can. Sometimes it is hardly any or quite a few. It can change the length of the service. It is one of my favorite parts of the service because you get to share other people's joys and concerns and it isn't about prayer or God really (unless you want it to be), it is more about sharing the good and the bad with others so that happy times can grow within others and the burdens of life can be eased through the sharing of them.

I do not go up there often. Certainly not every time D is in the hospital because then I feel like I'd be up there every other week.(Or it would seem, but actually D went a whole year without a hospitalization or major illness.)  But I have gone up two or three times. The last time was in April, when I lit a candle for Snickollet when her husband died. I truly believe that sometimes things are too joyous or painful to be contained within us, and when we share those things with others, those who are willing can take some of it on for themselves so you don't have to.

Today I wanted to go to church and light a candle. But I didn't get to go because Aaron was sick with a fever. Last week has been pretty miserable for D. His spasms and pain were not being well controlled by medication. The medication wasn't right and causing his BP to fluctuate wildly and for him to really lose the ability to be very coherent. Last night he took an ambulance to the emergency room after what appears to be the symptoms of an accidental drug overdose. He is stable now, and I talked to him this morning and he was semi-cognizant. This thing is getting to be a lot to take. The burden is weighing heavily on us, and I find a need to share it with others.

I wanted to go to church and light a candle. I wanted to take Naim and have my dad stay with Aaron at home. Aaron's fever was in the 101 range, and I gave him motrin, so some fluids and couch time and he will be okay. All my dad would have had to do was sit with him in front of the TV for a bit over an hour. But he didn't want to, even though right now as we speak during church time he is sitting with Aaron on the couch watching TV. Ninety-nine percent of the time I can take my dad's selfish shit. I just ignore it. There is good in there, I do see it. But sometimes it just gets to me. I probably could have coerced him into it or struck some kind of deal with him, but I just didn't have it in me...so fuck it. We will all stay home. Maybe later I can bundle Aaron up in the stroller and take Naim for a walk. It is a pretty nice day out.

So if I had been able to go to church, and sit for a peaceful hour by myself, and talk to well-wishers and kind people, and lay down my burdens a bit, here is what my candles would have been for:

The first, a candle of concern for D of course. And hope that we can find a way to get through the next two months safely and with a minimum of pain for him, and that there is a solution; a light at the end of this tunnel that in a few weeks a new pump will be able to be easily popped back in with no complications.

The second, a candle of gratitude for friends and those who have offered to help. D has a good friend named Jason, who really is a good guy and sticks by him no matter what. He is a young guy, late 20s, I think. And he is a good looking, energetic, healthy guy who could easily be out partying with friends instead of coming to visit D at 10pm to see if he is ok.  Years and years ago, one of D's brothers made some comment to me that burned into my brain. He said that no guys will want to hang out with D because he would cramp their style (paraphrase, and to be fair, I don't know if he still believes this.) And I thought, yeah...that's probably true. But their are good guys out there who aren't that shallow and think of friends as more than helpful props to pick up women. Jason is one of those good guys.

And I am so thankful for my friend, Niklas, who I've known for 15 years and who stayed up and talked to me last night until 3am (his time) and who took me from being on the verge of tears and a pounding headache, to laughing and being pain free in a matter of a couple of hours. (Even though, for some unknown reason, our conversations always seem to involve pe*nises and jokes about said pe*nises...but hey, it worked, damn it.) Niklas is someone who likes me for who I am, only wants what is best for me, and puts aside almost everything to lend an ear when I need one. He is threatening to come and visit us in May, and he better follow through or I am going to send D and my children to Toronto for a week so he can deal with them and I can have a 'house vacation.'

Also, people at the church have been extremely helpful. I have had numerous offers to help babysit the kids. A 14 year-old girl came over last night and brought pizza for the kids for a few hours. One thing I have to say is that the kids/young adults at my church are really amazing. They are so polite and generous and thoughtful and interesting to talk to. If I can produce teenagers like that, I'll have done good.

So, those would be my candles that I would have lit at church today, except that I only would have said a sentence for each, of course. I'm virtually lighting them here, because I need to share my burdens and my gratitude, and because I hope the light from my virtual candles can join with the light of all that is good and kind and generous out there.

(And I will ignore the fact that my dad just said to me, "So, did D make it through the night?" And "you better find some more work in case he doesn't make it." And I will ignore the fact that he just left the house at 12:12pm. If he would have been willing to wait about 20 more minutes, I would have been home from church anyway. I will ignore these things because they are just negative and dark and pointless. Today, no matter what, I'm all about the light.)

Christmas 2007 in Chapters

Chapter 1: Zoo Lights

Zoo lights kinda sucked most of the time and it was mostly my fault for not thinking it through well enough. The kids (and by kids I mean Aaron) broke my white cane, so I've been using another telescoping sorta sucky one. On the train, I threw it in my bag. After a half-hour train ride, I got off and somehow no longer had it.

Okay. Well, I'm meeting another mom so that makes it easier, and there are supposed to be a lot of lights, right? So maybe I will be able to see better than I usually can in the dark. But I waited and waited and waited at the designated spot, and she didn't show. I waited for about 40 minutes and walked around a bit to see if I missed her, but the kids were getting antsy and I had a decision to make. Should I go it alone or get back on the train and go back home? I decided to go over to where the entrance of the zoo was and see how I did. I didn't do well. I couldn't even tell where the line was or where to go to get in. It was one of those things that was going to be dangerous and miserable to get through, so I turned to go back home.

Right when I was turning back to head to the train, she appeared. It seemed that I had said to meet at the elevators closest to the zoo and she had only thought that there was one set of elevators coming up from the train station and was waiting at the other one. I did walk up to the other one once, but we must have missed each other. (BTW, in case the person in question ever reads this, I hope you know that I'm totally not mad at you about this. I was just frustrated by the whole situation I sort of found myself in. Mistakes/misunderstandings happen and its all good. Not like I haven't made a bajillion mistakes based on a misunderstanding.)

However, at that point my kids had sat through a 1/2 hour train ride and another over a half an hour wait. Then about a 15 minute wait in line. Then, we decided to head for the train ride. You have to buy tickets at the front, which is dumb, because then if you change your mind you've already paid. So, I wouldn't have waited in this train line if I were on my own. (Not that I said anything, so again, no blame except on myself here). Anyway, since I couldn't see, I had NO FREAKING IDEA how ungodly awful long this line was. I kept thinking we were at the end of it and just steps away from the train and then we would turn onto a whole 'nother subsection of line. It just went on and on. So, in addition to the kids' already hour and a half long wait to do something fun, We must have waited for the train for at least another hour. My kids were miserable at this point and it was just the point of no return for them. I was letting them in and out of the stroller and then they would want to be carried and my arms were aching and then Naim would throw a shit fit every time the line went away from the train and it was just a pain and not fun.

Naim getting impatient in the train line. He sucks his finger while holding on to the other arm when he's upset. He's always done this. It's kinda weird.

Then, after the train ride, I got lost. We had parked our strollers in this designated space and when we got off, she went that way and I must have missed the turn and just followed the crowd out. So, with two kids in tow, I had to find my way back IN the train area. This is where I knew I had seriously fucked up and the situation was out of my control. I had NO CLUE where I was or where I needed to be. All I could see was a mess of disorienting lights. I couldn't even see people to ask for help. I asked a few passersby if they knew how I could get back to the stroller area and they didn't know short of going through the entire train line again. Thankfully, the kids were being good and dutifully holding on to each of my hands, but I kept thinking, "Kids? As you trustingly follow your mother, you have no idea how much she is fucking up on the job right now." I was actually using them as my 'guide dogs' to watch out for steps and stuff.

I knew I needed to find someone who worked there who could get me through, but it was too dark to see who worked there. So, I asked 'The Next Person Who Walked By' to help me find someone who worked there. She had trouble as well, but finally we found someone who was holding those lights that airport people use to direct the plane with, you know? And he basically cut me through the entire train line and finally found my friend and the strollers.

An aside: I can't believe sometimes how nice some people are compared to how snotty others are. The person who helped me find the employee, she had her own kids in tow and was totally wonderful about stopping everything to run around and figure this out with me, a total stranger. Then, when I walked with my two little kids through the line with an employee, people were snotting at me not to cut in line. Even when I told them I was just passing through the line, not getting in line, someone said, "Why does she get special treatment?".

After that, things got a bit better. We walked around the zoo and it was kind of a neat atmosphere with all the lights. We spent some time watching a brass band that was playing Christmas Carols. Naim really liked that. I was fascinated watching my friend and her daughter together. Her daughter is just a month or two older than mine, and she would so dutifully follow right behind her mother while her mother walked anywhere from two to six or eight feet in front of her. She just followed along like a little puppy dog. I think Naim could do that, but still I would be afraid in a crowd like that that people would get in between us and we'd get separated and I would never be able to find him. I need contact. And Aaron? Aaron would be gone forever if I let him go like that. He is a wanderer. If he gets more than four to six feet away from me in the dark like that with such loud noises, I'm done for.

Better times for Naim. Listening to music.

So, I had the double umbrella stroller, and I always kept one in the stroller while the other had to "help me push." And even this was tough. The stroller is wide and keeps running over people's feet and can't fit anywhere narrow. The whole night was an effort of intense concentration and alertness on my part. Exhausting. I was a bore, I had to work so hard on just keeping our shit together. This was a new friend and she was a rookie at being with me. I'm sure she'll never want to go anywhere with us again.

And the whole night I kept saying to myself, "I should listen to Emmie. She's SO right about the harnesses. This would be so much easier with harnesses. I should listen to Emmie." Emmie has used those cute little animal backpack harnesses with her twin boys. And has made really insightful comments about how kid harnesses have such a stigma and are looked down upon, yet everyone shoves their kids in a stroller for the same purpose, to keep easy control of their kids. And yet, aren't strollers (at toddler age, I'm not talking infants here) so much more confining than harnesses? At least with harnesses they could walk around some and explore and get some exercise. The other thing is, they don't have to use them. You can have the kids wearing the backpacks and walking with you, and just take out the 'leash' part of the harness if needed. Whereas if you choose a stroller, you're pretty much stuck with it and at least one hand occupied all the time. In the end, to not do something that makes perfectly good sense and will work for you and keep your kids safer while still allowing them some freedom just because you are worried about what other people will think is just stupid. (As if, with all the other reasons we'll get stared at, harness stares will be such a big deal.)

And lo and behold, a Christmas Miracle! I get home and waiting for me is an email from Emmie offering to send me their harnesses that they aren't using anymore. Yea! Emmie!

Naim on a hippo statue while Aaron stands by. I didn't get really any good pictures at zoo lights. Too busy getting my ass lost.

Chapter 2: The Weekend

For the past several weeks/months, I have had significant trouble sleeping, even though I am exhausted all. the. time. I actually can fall asleep really easily, but then I wake up anywhere from 45 minutes to 2 hours later and then I am up, anxiety ridden, till 5 am or even just never go back to bed. Then I'm so tired the next day that I can't get anything except the essentials done. I've tried limiting my caffeine, not watching TV before bed, thought it might be my 30 year old mattress I am using now and am looking in to replacing it. Then, on days when I go over to D's to work, I've been doing the bare necessities over there and then collapsing on the couch in a deep sleep while he watches the kids.

Finally, on a terrible Saturday night with no sleep at 7 in the morning on one of those days when I probably have had 5 or 6 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours, it occurred to me. This all started when the kids got to big boy beds and Aaron started destroying everything. (A condition which still comes and goes, it improved some before we had another setback). They haven't been really taking naps, either. The problem is that I don't feel like I am EVER off duty. Naim doesn't like me to go to sleep and turn off all the lights until he is asleep at night, or he starts throwing things around. Then Aaron starts throwing things around in the morning if he gets up before me. They never sleep for naps anymore. The place is pretty childproof but then I always fear those little things like what if they knock over a bookcase and kill themselves. They have already destroyed a lamp in their room. They knocked off the light bulb and it shattered to pieces. What if they electrocute themselves? What if they just simply pull all of the toilet paper out and TP my house with it? Its not the end of the world, no. But it kind of is when there are messes to clean up all the time. I spend my life cleaning these messes instead of being able to do anything fun with them. One more big mess can send me over the edge.

It is a cyclical problem where I know that their schedule needs adjusting, we need some new routines, they need some more outings and stimulation. Aaron especially needs more stimulation right now than it seems I can give him. I've been looking into preschools but many are too expensive or have a "3 by September" rule so I have to wait until next fall. I need a break. I can't get one. I don't sleep and am tired all the time, which makes me less able to find stimulating things for them to do and then they get bored and start destroying things again. And I'm never off duty. When I wake up at night, I usually think I awoke because something has happened or they need me. Or did I remember to put the locks on the closet doors? I better check. Or I need to go check and see if they both ended up asleep in their beds instead of (really!) Aaron falling asleep on top of the bookcase. I'm never done, I can never relax. Naim is a dream child mostly. If it was just him, or even two of him, I think I'd be okay. But Aaron, as it turns out, is a--shall we say--"spirited child." He is a challenge and I am not meeting his needs lately.

So over the weekend, my body just collapsed into flu and exhaustion and depression. I have not had a break from the kids (for more than 3 or 4 hours, which is rare in itself) for over three years. They have not ever had even one day apart from me or I from them. Its not right. I'm not sure what to do about it. You can say "get a babysitter" but it isn't so easy. All my affordable babysitting attempts have fallen through for various reasons. Right now, I am looking at possibly hiring a young man from my church who works in the nursery with the boys and they like him. The only issue is that he has (high functioning) autism. I don't think I could leave the house with him there. He still may be a great help if I can get some other work done or rest. Or if he can perhaps help with some of the housework kind of stuff (which I'm not sure about yet.) He also doesn't drive, so we'd have to work out transportation. I'm very interested in giving him a go, but I'm not sure how well it will work, or if it will work at all. But he's a nice kid and I'm thinking I can hire him for minimum, so we'll see.

But what this has to do with the weekend is that three times, D has come over and spent the day with the kids so I could rest. It was the only way I was not going to lose my ever-loving mind and even attempt to have some kind of Christmas for the kids. He has been a bit sick with a post-operative infection from his pump surgery. And his incision is a bit open now so the infection can drain out and he has to be careful. So it was with much guilt that I had him come over, but if he hadn't...I swear I was headed for hospitalization or something. I was getting so sick and tired that I couldn't think straight and nothing made sense that came out of my mouth. Just the very thought of my dad coming in January and bringing that dog that I will have to manage as well and clean up after was sending me right over the edge into middle of the night terrors.

Things are better, I have been catching up on sleep. But the problems remain. At least now I have a clearer head and can start to figure stuff out. I need to look at schedule. I need to look for regular outings that occur pretty frequently and will stimulate and wear Aaron out. I need to look at some more baby proofing (at this point, it is kid proofing and involves heavy duty locks, rather than those pansy-ass baby proofing products that he laughs in the face of) so that I can sleep and feel like he is at least safe somewhere. I need to pursue a regular babysitter, if not this kid then something else.

Sometimes it takes you going nuts to realize that there is a serious problem that needs serious action to be dealt with. So that was what this weekend was all about. I'll get there, but it is going to take some serious strategy.

Chapter 3: Christmas Eve

The only thing on the agenda for Christmas Eve was the church service, which I always found relaxing in previous years. The kids have done well the last few years, and I tried to set up the day so this year they would do well, too. I tried to make sure they were well rested but also a bit worn out, well fed but not needing to go to the bathroom for an hour, etc.

But! It was not to be. They seemed fine all day but when we got there, they wouldn't shut up so we went back to the 'cry room.' Our cry room actually is a little play room with windows and a speaker with the service piped in. Naim was fine after a while and I sent him out to sit with his dad. Aaron, on the other hand, won the contest for the Most Obnoxious Kid in the Room.

There were 3 or 4 other kids who ended up back there. Every time a kid would come in, Aaron would say,"I don't like him! I don't want to play with him! Go Away!"

Big fat roll eyes slam head into brick wall emoticon here.

Now, here is where again, I will never judge another mom again and I'm ashamed that I used to do this. One experience with a kid does not a bad kid make. Aaron is usually a pretty social kid who likes to play with other kids and can be very polite about sharing and trading and taking turns. But on this night, he was a brat. And he got a time out. And we struggled through the service and had a struggle to clean up all of our toys afterwords. We were going to go downstairs for their little social thing and they had the accessible door locked again (happens less and less these days, but still occasionally happens.) At this point, I was worn out and the thought of dragging my kids  in the cold around the building and through two sets of staircases to go around and unlock the door for D was more than I could take, so I just wanted to go home. Which made Aaron scream bloody murder, because he wanted to go downstairs and socialize now, of course. Now he wanted to play with the other kids. So that was relaxing Christmas Eve at the church.

I put the kids to bed so D and I could have our steak dinner in peace, and that was nice. And then I sent him home so I could finish up all the present wrapping and stuff I still hadn't gotten done.

Chapter 4: Christmas

Despite all the crabbiness and all the--well--Aaron, Christmas actually turned out pretty good. I kept the kids upstairs and fed them breakfast up there until D and his dad got here at around ten. I had the train set sitting out in the living room and I carried Aaron to the bathroom and he caught a peak of it. But it was funny. He was all, "Gasp! A surprise! (sign for surprise) I saw a surprise! (sign)" I told him to whisper so Naim wouldn't hear about the surprise, so then he started signing everything while whispering. "Gasp! A train surprise? A present? For ME?"

The Xmas morning beeline. I don't know what that face I'm making is all about.

When I took them downstairs, they made a beeline for the train set. They were pretty excited and crashed the track and bridges almost immediately, which I knew was going to happen. That track assembly is going to take a bit of practice for them, but they'll get it. Luckily, we had other presents at the ready to distract them from track frustrations. We spent the morning happily opening presents. It went quicker this year than last year. Because this year they wanted "more presents!" while last year they would play with something a while until we nudged them along to open the next one. They are starting to get this whole present thing. Yea! Consumerism!

Aaron and Naim with the train set before the hurricane hit it and left the Island of Sodor in ruins; it's minority inhabinants to be left for dead by our classist regime.

Oh! Before I forget. On cue during the present unwrapping, as if in a oversentimentalized Hallmark Channel Christmas Special, another Christmas Miracle! It started to snow! Supposedly, it hasn't snowed here on Christmas in over 56 years! (Didn't stay on the ground, though. but was pretty to watch.)

Then we went to the Christmas Dinner thing at my church. And this time the door was unlocked. It was really nice. There were more people there than I thought would be, and they had all the tables set up with candles and china and there was wine and lots and lots of food. They set up a little kid area with a kid table and chairs and some toys and markers and paper. The kids got a gift bag with candy and a small toy vehicle in it. There was another boy about their age and this time Aaron played nicely with him almost the whole time. Aaron was pretty good except that he went to the dessert table and took just one bite out of four different pieces of fudge and then put them back. Luckily, people just laughed about it. Naim stuck with his dad mostly. Usually during potluck kind of things all I do is work because I have to get food, drinks, silverware,etc. for four people by myself while watching the rugrats at the same time. By the time I'm started eating, everyone else is done. There was some of that here, too, of course, but people actually ran and fetched things for me, like a drink for Naim or a fork or dessert for the kids. When you NEVER get waited on, I mean like EVER. And you are always the one who has to get up during a meal and fetch the juice, the butter, the seconds, the whatever, then you have to clean up afterwords as well--it is so nice when someone does something simple like just gets the kids some juice that it practically makes me want to cry. I almost don't know what to do with myself. Its silly.

When I go to social functions with kids now, time warps into something I call "Toddler Time." Even if I've had a nice time and the kids were relatively well-behaved, I think I have spent hours and hours somewhere and when I leave and look at the clock, its only been like two hours and I am shocked. This is what happened here. We were the first to leave, and I  had the "get the kids to bed" excuse to use. But I thought we had been there at least 3 or 4 hours. Turns out it was only two. Well, that was enough. I'd go again next year. I figure each year these things are going to get easier and easier.

Appendix: The Loot

For both kids:

• Train set (mom)
• Set of a bunch of space shuttles and rockets (dad)
• (btw, remember the plastic hunk of kitchen junk? After dragging all the peices out twice to put it together and failing. I gave up. It is pissing me off and it is going to Freecycle.)

Naim:

• small stuffed kitty cat that meows and moves and blinks (grampa b.)
• Knit hat (grampa B.)
• matchbox airplane
• creepy feeling rubber dragon and dinosaur
• Melissa and Doug farm jigsaw puzzle
• Animal planet safari animal playset
• Max and Ruby book (Julie)
• School house puzzle (Julie)
• Fisher Price turtle game
• 2 finger puppets
• Little school bus (from church)
• Candy
• Train Christmas Ornament
• Gift certificates (the SILs)

Naim discovering the wonders of "More Presents!"

Aaron:

• little stuffed dog that barks, etc. (grampa b.)
• knit hat (grampa b.)
• matchbox airplane
• Creepy dinosaur and dragon
• Little people helicopter
• Melissa and Doug train puzzle
• Roger the Snake book (Julie)
• Barney Puzzle (Julie)
• Fisher Price Oreo game
• 2 finger puppets
• little ambulance car (from church)
• candy
• Volkswagen bug Christmas ornament
• gift certificates (the SILs)

D helping Aaron unwrap. This is Scrooge of me, but I f*ing hate that Santa hat D wears every year. Which is probably why he wears it.

D:

• sweater (parents)
• wheelchair reflector light (parents)
• security video camera (his B/SIL) We were kind of dumbfounded by this one. We both said, Oooh! a good gift! We have been thinking for a long time about how to give D access to the kids room upstairs, because they are starting to want him to go up there to show him things. We thought about hooking up video somehow. So this is (I think) what that is in mind for. Although I think he is going to exchange it for one that can work on his computer instead of the TV, it is still a thoughtful gift.
• RAM (me) Isn't this romantic? Isn't it special? Over the weekend I finally confessed to him that I suck. I didn't get him anything. I said to pick out something he wants and I will get it for him...and he picked RAM for his computer. I said email me the exact thing you want and where to get it and I will order it, so that's what I did.
• His favorite oatmeal choc chip cookies (me and the kids.)

Me:

• Kitchen timer (D) This is a joke. I've somehow managed to break, like, 4 of them. I use them for turn taking for the kids or getting them to pick up their mess in a certain amount of time or occasionally for time outs.
• Chocolate (D)
• iPod Shuffle (D) This is a good little iPod for me. I needed one that works without a screen which I can't see.

*If you are wondering about gifts from my family, I have asked them to contribute to my "trip back to the Midwest" fund. My fake grandmother is 85 years old, and I am determined to try to make it back with the kids this spring/summer. It is expensive to fly for the three of us!

Various Updates on Things...

The Party

The kid party went well. Every one except one person that I invited came. I am a nervous host when people come to my house. I just want people to walk in and plop down on my couch and if they're hungry, go get themselves a snack and if they're thirsty, head for the fridge and get a drink. I love it when things get to that point where people can just make themselves at home and you aren't self conscious about your cooking or your dirty rug or whatever. But I don't like the parts where you have to structure things more when people don't know you well. I wish I could get to point B without having to do point A, but that's the way it goes, so I have been forcing myself to entertain more.

But a kid party is pretty easy and laid back by nature, and it was fun. The first hour or so was a bit nerve-wracking because both my kids decided to be traumatized by the onslaught of kids that descended upon their stuff. So, I was trying to keep track of everything while I had Aaron permanently affixed to my arm, Naim sulking and crying with D and wanting me, and trying to make sure everyone was comfortable. At one point, I had to get food for D, Aaron, and Naim who were demanding to eat and sit in their high chairs, and for about 15 minutes there I had no clue what the other folks were doing. They seemed to just make their way okay, so I was glad. I set up our coffee table for the little kids, but I only had four little chairs. So I just figured that I would hold Aaron on my lap and Naim never sits anyway. But instead, they wanted high chairs across the room. So be it. But I have some cute pictures of the kids eating at the table and my kids aren't even there.

This is a pic of my coffee table with a baby einstein table cloth and hats and balloons on it. It has four little kid chairs around it. I took it early in the morning before anyone came.

Things got a lot more fun, for me anyway, when we all headed out to the back yard. My kids seemed to relax out there. I think they are used to playing with other kids outside, but we really haven't had that many (any?) kids in the house except for a couple of babies who were too young to intimidate them, I guess. All the kids outside playing with the bubbles were really cute, so that was fun. I even got to talk to a few of the adults, which I figured I wouldn't really be able to do with that many people and kids. I tell D that he needs to handle the socializing. I'll just smile and nod and then he can give me a debriefing when its over. Which he did. I found out from him that one of the moms lives just a few blocks from us, so that was cool. I walk by her place probably once a week or so on the way to the store.

So I would post pics but they all have the other kids in them and I don't post other kids without permission and I forgot to ask and I can't mosaic them anyways. I think I like this "half-birthday" thing. I like that I can have it in the summer and be flexible about the date. I like that it takes the pressure and expectation off as far as gifts are concerned. The whole thing cost me around, oh, 75 bucks. Most of that  was food and we had at least a days worth of leftovers for all of us afterwords. If I made more of the food myself, I could even cut the price down even more, but I got store-bought cake and cupcakes. When comparing that to the amount some others spend on birthday parties, I don't think it is so bad. So, it might be a tradition worth keeping.

This is one of the few pics with no other kids in it. It is me sitting on a patio chair with Aaron on my lap. You know? I've lost over thirty pounds on WW but it sure doesn't look it in this picture. But Aaron is cute, though.

UU GA

One of you asked if I got to go to the Unitarian Universalist General Assembly that was held in Portland last week. In a word, No. And D and I are a bit pissed about it.

I love a lot of things about UU's, but they have a knack of making you not feel welcome if your aren't the typical white, educated, middle class, bohemian type. The worse part about that is that they think they do accept everyone and they totally don't and don't even get that they don't.

I have never been to a religious general assembly, so I have no experience and did not know what to expect. But it was in my hometown and what other opportunity was I ever going to have to go? Also, a UU minister woman I was corresponding with and wanted to meet with was there and had a panel discussion I would have liked to heard, along with many others that D and I were interested in, and I lost that opportunity as well.

A list of why we didn't go:

1. The accessibility information was vague (in a 'maybe, sorta, possibly we can kinda provide some accomodations' way) and indicated that you had to pay at least part of your accommodations. D would have been fine as he didn't need a hotel room and the convention center is accessible. I however, would have needed some stuff in order to get anything out of the sessions. I would have needed an amplification system of some kind, a way to read the written materials, possibly help navigating the place, and possibly a need to talk to presenters beforehand to explain the ropes. I could not pay for these, for one. And secondly, I couldn't even request them because the accommodations request form was in pdf and I can't fill out a form like that by myself.
2. Furthermore, in order to get info on what accommodations you might need like knowing which events you want to attend and when, you would have needed to see a program guide before the deadline for accommodations. It was not made available till after the deadline for accommodations AND after the deadline to register for early bird rates.
3. The program guide, when available, was also in badly formed pdf. You can read some pdf with a screen reader, but not a 128 page document that has no tabs or formatting or bookmarks. D even had trouble with it because he uses as little keystrokes as possible on the computer and the thing required a lot of navigating.
4. We had a child care issue, of course. And I was trying to decide if I could get a babysitter and when I could do the most things in the least amount of time. THEN, I find out that they provide childcare (at a cost I am unaware of) but that you had to register your children before this all magic deadline that they set for everything prior to putting out the information in a barely accessible format that told you you had to register prior.
5. Finally, we decided that we would go down for just my friend's presentation and maybe look around the exhibit hall a little. We would take the kids and lots of stuff for them to play with, and D would watch them out in the hall nearby while I went to the presentation. Then, D wanted to go the next day on his own to some other events. Well, we searched and searched for the price of going for a day, thinking it would be around $20-30 or so, and found out it was $115 dollars A DAY. That would have been $230 for both of us to go to one 45 minute presentation and maybe look around at some t-shirts and bumper stickers? And would the kids be free? We didn't even know. It would have taken us an hour to get there on the train and we didn't even know if we could get our kids in...OR if I would be able to hear the presentation. At that price, it was SO not worth it.

Basically, I guess they only wanted rich, able-bodied people with no kids there. They probably didn't do this intentionally, but that is sure how it felt. I don't know what other churches do for General Assemblies or whatever, but this is what I think of when  I think of this:

My father was raised Jehovah's Witness and came from a poor family with seven kids. They still managed a trip to New York for the big JW conferences. How? Because they were FREE. I guess I thought it would be something not quite free, but on the order of not very much money.

Also, I think of one time when D and I went out to a little tiny church in the backwoods of Kansas in God Knows Where County because D had a high school friend who worked there. This church was the size of the Little House on the Prairie Church and had maybe 50 people in attendance. There were several steps up to the front door. This church installed an elevator. They also had large print programs, and informed me that if I needed it they would provide Braille and sign interpreting for free, with only ONE WEEK's advance notice. Okay, you guys know that churches aren't mandated under the ADA to do ANYTHING for the disabled, right? Anything they do is voluntary. This Podunk church could do this and the whole National General Assembly of a upper middle class constituency can't knock out a few accommodations and a decent conference fee? Okay. Whatever.

So we missed it. I missed my buddy's presentation, which ironically was about the "real lives of the disabled" or something like that. I'm just conflicted about UUism. They do some damned good things and have so much potential, but they have a weird thing about disabled, racial minorities, and working class folks. They accept seem to accept us in a way that gives them points for doing charity work for us, but not in a way that includes us as equals. I talked to a UU minister recently about this, and she totally got what I was saying, which was such a relief. She said that the UU's on a national level, are just now starting to admit that they are a bunch of spoilt, rich, overeducated white folks who don't have a clue. The door is opening a crack for some real discourse on this, but they just aren't quite there, yet. Maybe there is some hope, we shall see.

Now don't email me and tell me you are a UU and you aren't a rich, spoilt, overeducated white folk. I realize that that is a gross over-generalization and there are differences among and within congregations. Even within my own little church. I had that awful experience with the minister that made me feel like an alien and told me I shouldn't get my kids dedicated there if I hated the church so much, when ALL I wanted to do was talk about how the church could do a few easy things to give us more access to its services--like remembering to unlock the doors to the accessible entrances and such. Then the next minister totally got me, was more than willing to work on these issues, and could see the problem for herself. Also, this year I have moved from teaching Sunday school to being on the religious education committee. I've only gone to one meeting, but I can already tell that this is a special group. I might have chucked this whole church thing if it wasn't for the RE staff always bending over backwards to help me participate. They make me feel like they want me there and that I am important and that I contribute. And that even though they have to do some probably inconvenient things to help me participate, they feel they are worth it to have me there. So, yes, pockets of real commitment and effort on that first "worth and dignity of every person" principle. But over all problems. I don't know, that might be the way it works in every church.

Naim's Speech

Naim is getting some mad speech and language skillz. I have worked with him and worked with him and at some point during the last couple of months, he has turned a corner. There is still a lot of muddled sentences that I don't understand, and his speech is not near as clear as Aaron's, but he is saying sentences, he is repeating things that I say, he is talking as well as signing. I think he is starting to be more confident with talking. He tells me little stories, he tells me what he wants and what he is doing. He is a language fool. I know that I understand him better than a stranger would and he still has a ways to go to catch up, but the improvement over the last few weeks has been remarkable.

The two main things I did that I think really helped were to use music and to get Aaron away from me for a while. Naim really has a thing for music. He plays imaginary piano, he sings songs and keeps a beat. He can change his pitch and speed if you ask him, too. He hums and sings songs all the time. I really see potential for him to get involved in music in some way later on down the line. Whether it be an instrument or singing or dance or composition or something, I think he is very musical. So we used songs to practice phonemes and to slow down his cadence so that he concentrates more on each sound instead of running them all together. Then we would speed up the song so fast that our words blended together. I think when he saw how I did this, and that if I sang too fast, you couldn't understand me anymore, and then when I sang slow the same song, you could, I think he started to realize that he needs to slow down and concentrate on the sounds he is making.

He might be a bit like me. I have have discovered through observation over the years, that I think at an incredibly fast rate of speed. Well, except for math, then everything slows down to a grinding halt. But I think faster than I can get it out and sometimes that makes my conversation not particularly graceful. People ask me how I can write so much and how long does it take me. Um, not long at all. I cannot type near as fast as I think-write. A long post here might take 45 minutes to an hour. If I bothered to proofread, I would clean it up more than it is and I would probably tack on another half-hour to that. D gets irritated with me because I present a problem to him and find 5 solutions in the time it took me to explain the problem and he doesn't even have time to digest it and make a decision. I'm all the time very impatient with him and am all, "speed it up, kid! Coke or Sprite? HOW LONG CAN IT POSSIBLY TAKE YOU TO CONSIDER THE OPTIONS!!! GEEZ! YOU'RE GETTING COKE!" I am very impatient. But he is very slow to make decisions sometimes.

Anyway, back to Naim. My second thing I have decided to do is to be more assertive with Aaron that I need to spend time with Naim. Aaron is a mom hog. And he wants me all the time. And I feel bad telling him to get lost. But I just had to commit to the reality that I am cheating Naim if I can't say no to Aaron. Naim will rarely "fight for me." If Aaron is hogging me, Naim just goes off and does his own thing. And even when they are together with me, Aaron does all the talking and answers all the questions. So, I had to commit to making Aaron go away and do something else and just set aside time every day to just sit there and talk with Naim about whatever he is doing. This caused major drama for Aaron at first, but he is getting better at accepting it. And now when I ask Naim a question, I'll say, "This question is for NAIM to answer." If Aaron answers it, I ignore and ask Naim again until he answers it. Aaron is starting to get it. He will even say, "Naim answer the question." So, Naim has improved a lot.

Cute Aaron Conversation:

Me: What is your name?

A: I don't know.

Me: You don't know your name? Is it Naim?

A: No

Is it Orion?

No

Is it Julie?

No.

Is it Scrapper?

No.

Is it Aaron?

No.

Your name is NO?

No! No! No!

Well, it's nice to meet you, No! No! No! Do you know what my name is?

Your name is Yes! Yes! Yes!, mama.

42

When my mom was dying and reflective on things, she said once to me that she thought she screwed up by not doing more to get us involved in religion or spirituality growing up. We went to church briefly, a year maybe? I'm not sure. It was a United Church of Christ church (formerly known as Congregational). Interestingly, as I understand it, Congregational churches are the Christian offshoot of Unitarian Universalism. The two religions still have a strong partnership. If I recall correctly, she stopped going because she felt like she wasn't really included as a member. I guess their was a lot of "society" types there.

But other than that, we were not a religious family at all. My paternal grandparents would occasionally bestow upon us the "Watchtower" propaganda from the Jehovah's Witness faith, which we mostly just made fun of. And of course, being Americans, you just naturally get a heavy dose of Christianity by virtue of being in society. So, obviously I was brought up with a bent towards Christianity.

But because it was not jammed down our throats, and it was not a priority in our upbringing, I think my mom inadvertently gave me something that I value more. I have an objectivity about religion that I don't know if I'd have if I was brought up to believe a certain faith. I can stand outside of religion to a great extent, and look at it from "above" instead of from any one perspective.

D, for instance, was raised Catholic. And even though now he doesn't identify as Catholic and is quite able to see the hypocrisies and be very critical of Catholicism, it is still embedded in his foundation. What that does is, it only allows him to study other religions in relation to his own. He has studied religion a great deal, actually. Even some unique ones like Sufism and Taoism. But each of those are compared to his native Catholicism,for better or for worse. He can't totally escape the bounds of being raised Catholic and sort of see all religions side by side equally in front of him. They all are viewed through the lens of Catholicism.

This is why, and I actually told my mom this, that I was thankful that we weren't brought up with a strong religious influence. And this is one thing I wanted to pass on to my kids. The ability to respect and learn about different belief systems without me arbitrarily forcing one particular view onto them. I chose Unitarian Universalism for this very reason. I wanted them to learn about religions and spirituality. I wanted them to benefit from a church community. I wanted them to go to an RE program that instilled strong moral lessons, one of which would be to think respectfully and freely. I wanted them to decide for themselves what to believe.

I have been teaching Sunday School for the last two months and I have three more weeks to go on a unit on Islam. The curriculum is geared towards 4-6th graders, but I have a weird catch-all class that sometimes includes kids as young as three. This is very challenging. At this level, I just focus on exposure for the younger children. Just a familiarity with mosques, Islamic art, words like Allah, what a prayer rug is, what a ha jib is. Just things like that so when they see these things they will know what they are and not be scared of them. With the older kids, we are just learning the very basic tenants of Islam. Basically I have been going through the five pillars of Islam and some of the history, some of the art, etc. We made mosaics and prayer rugs. We learned the prayer positions and the washing rituals. (We did not "pray", mind you. We just learned what it might "feel like" to be in those positions and what they mean to Muslims. I'm walking the very fine line of appropriation here.) We watched videos that showed Muslim children celebrating Ramadan. We visited a local mosque. We have read stories about Muslim children. We have played "Guess the Prophet," and dressed up in 1st Century garb as we looked at the similarities between the bible stories and that of the Koran. We have written our names in Arabic. We talked about the different ceremonial activities of the Hajj. We are going to have a Muslim guest visitor.

I did not know squat about Islam before I started this unit. And I still research every week to keep just ahead of my students. I, myself, only know the basics. (And any of you can feel free to correct anything I say here that may be inaccurate.) But what I've been able to do, and what I've seen my students be able to do, is to see Islam up next to Christianity from a fairly objective perspective. They had a unit on heroes from the Bible last year, so there is a lot of talk about that. What we seem to keep coming to the conclusion of each week is that Islam is JUST. LIKE. CHRISTIANITY. It so totally is.

Of course I know there are differences that are vitally important to those of great faith in a particular religion. But from the outside, it doesn't seem that different that Christians view Jesus as the Son of God who died and was resurrected and Muslims see Jesus (Isa) as a great prophet that ascended to Heaven. It doesn't seem all that different that Christians see Sarah's son Jacob as the chosen sacrificial son of Abraham and Muslims see this role going to Hagar's son, Ishmael. Christians see a certain Jewish illegitimate carpenter as the last prophet and Muslims see an orphaned illiterate trader as the last prophet. And everywhere is the Angel, Gabriel. He really gets around. He pokes his head in the business of all the Abrahamic religious leaders from Moses to Muhammad. From the outside, it all looks the same. They all have the golden rule. They all have one God, the same god at that. They all value unalterable faith to God. From the outside, the differences in the histories seem to match more closely than they don't. Its all Po-TAY-to/Po-TAH-to, To-MAY-to/To-MAH-to.

The kids and I have no problem with this. Of course, we are looking at the Abrahamic religions from sort of the "outside." We are only looking at the basic tenants and not the layer upon layer of cultural and political baggage that goes along with all of it. We are only talking about exposure here, and not a deep, unabiding faith. To us, its just historic and cultural studies.

But, when I tell others in the outside world that I am teaching a Sunday School class on Islam, I've been amazed at the strong reactions I get. First, I get the odd and suspicious look often accompanied by a little judgmental "hmmm." Then, almost instantly, the conversation jumps to the latest news on a recent violent attack, usually in Iraq. I guess I usually hang around the wrong crowd ( and by wrong, perhaps I mean knowledgeable), but I've been very surprised by this. I know I shouldn't be. Do people really still equate all of Islam--the second largest religion in the world that is practiced by millions upon millions of people in every country of the world-- with terrorism? One person recently immediately launched into a story about how explosives were found in a newly built unopened girls school in Iraq. I read the story and it did not mention Islam in the whole article. It talked about Iraqi insurgents. It said the military "suspected Al Quada". Al Quada, of course, being the catch-all made-up name the U.S. has given to all organized middle eastern insurgent groups. I'm not stupid enough to think that these people who participate in these violent acts are not using Islam as their grand rationale for their crimes. And as I don't support the violence the U.S. government has inflicted on the Iraqi people as well as its own citizens in the military, I also for damned sure don't support the violence of so-called Islamic extremists. But very little of that, to me, has to do with what my fourth graders are studying. That kind of violence is not about the practice of Islam. It would be like immediately equating Christianity with the likes of David Koresh or Jim Jones. It would be like affiliating all Christians with the Mafia.

There are layers upon layers of forces at work here involved in our problems with the middle east. None the least of which has to do with oppressing whole classes of people militarily. For their part, it has to do with layers of cultural norms which, although influenced by Islamic traditions, are not in and of themselves representative of Islam. One of the most damaging cultural forces I see there is a complete desensitization to and acceptance of violence. When cultures have had nothing but invasion and violence brought on their culture by the outside world for generation upon generation, they respond in kind. Its all they know. They don't have much to lose, they don't have many other options, and if you are going to go down, then why not go down praising your cause in the name of Allah? I don't pretend to be an expert on middle east affairs. But I just find it interesting how the entire religion of Islam has been vilified in the U.S. as if our layers of history, such as the genocide of the Native Americans or slave trading or our involvement in eugenics for example, were completely devoid of Christian influences. People are actually scared when I bring up the fact that I'm teaching Islam to fourth graders.

The other odd thing is, that people do not know a damned thing about Islam, while at the same time demanding that it is evil. I mean, people think they pray to an entirely different God. They don't know that there is any association between the Old Testament, the New Testament and Islam. They even think that the whole praying thing is to several gods or just to Satan. When I went to the mosque, the president of the association told us a bunch of things that our government does with the media that mean things to Muslims but would not mean anything to anyone else. Cultural things that U.S. officials do to disrespect their culture and religion, either knowingly or unintentionally, that Americans just don't see. One example is of a U.S. general meeting Muslim leaders at a symbolic religious place and kicking the dirt with his boots, which was a sign of great disrespect. It would be like if someone came to the U.S. and met with officials in front of the national cathedral and decided to spray paint graffiti on it or something. The media reported that the Muslims refused to talk, but didn't report why. The U.S. Muslims saw the footage and got why, but no one else was told.

Studying Islam has been very interesting to me. I have learned a lot. I will tell you that there are several things I kind of like about Islam. I like that no one "joins" a congregation or mosque. You just go to the one nearest you. I like that there is no clergy, no hierarchy outside some basic administration duties at each mosque and also on the global level. I like the whole Ramadan fasting ritual, and how it is to represent the suffering of the poor. I think the Hajj sounds kind of cool, like how everyone wears the same white clothing so as to eliminate class, race and ethnic differences. I like that the basic tenants of Islam are nonviolent. Jihad does not mean "holy war." Jihad means "to struggle in the way of God," which can be interpreted as living a moral life in God's honor to defending oppression against the practice of Islam. Obviously some extremist factions of Islam take this as military defense directives. But the tenants of Islam as stated in the Koran have very specific rules about violence as a last resort, and then rules about protecting noncombatants and civilian and religious areas. Again, not too terribly different from Christianity.

When I visited the mosque, every one was kind to us. We went with them to witness their prayer time, but we did not pray. We did take off our shoes and wore conservative clothing, but did not have to cover our heads or faces or do any ritual washing. Women and men prayed in adjoining rooms with a window in between so you could see each other. Side by side, women were not behind the men. The carpet had ornamentation that was off center to the room, as it was facing Mecca. There were people there from probably ten different countries, who spoke ten different languages, all praying together. Children from other countries who were too poor to own a Koran actually memorized it by oral tradition. When they prayed and I watched and listened, it was peaceful. I thought of the fact that all these millions of people stop what they are doing 5 times a day and take a few minutes to "humble themselves to God." That their prayers are about humility and thanks and not about asking for stuff. At the same time, all over the world, for centuries, all facing towards the same center, people have prayed together. And there must be power in that. I almost felt it.

Despite my admiration for certain aspects of Islam, I will not be converting any time soon. I do think it is a highly patriarchal religion. However, I do not think it is generally any more or less patriarchal than Christianity. U.S. Muslim women have more freedoms than middle eastern women. But this is more due to the cultural overlay than Islam itself. U.S. catholic women have much more freedom than do Italian women. This is also due to culture. Catholicism has a stronger hold on Italian culture and government than it does in the U.S. Italian women in general do not enjoy the same freedoms that we do here.

Then, there is the matter of faith. I'm not a fan of any religion in particular because I am not a fan of what faith does to some people. Faith and religion of any kind either brings out the best in people or the worst. Sometimes faith is a source of strength and love, and sometimes it is a source of fear and hatred. It always seems that those with total and blind faith in a religion are so afraid and closed off to any other idea that all they can do is cower in the face of different ideas and fight those who believe in them out of fear.

My theory on religion goes something like this: We all are interconnected to each other and the universe. There are threads of an infinite web that connect each of us to the vastness of space as well as the tiniest elements of quantum physics. Every cell of our body, all of our DNA, the atoms and elements that make them up, are threaded in this vast web. We yank on the invisible strings and we want to know what will happen and why. Our strings are yanked on, broken and retied, and we want to know why and how. We will never know how we connect to the infinity of life, the universe and everything as they say in the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. Some people can't handle that state of not knowing. Some people want all of those threads of the web tied together in one neat package. They want clear, visible concrete answers that illuminate this network, tell us why and how we are connected, tell us the right and wrong way to yank on our strings. They grab on to any explanation. Religion. Some grab on to whatever is in front of them, some accept what they were taught growing up. Some look around and choose what makes the most sense to them. And then, since there is little to no evidence that any of these religions are the right answers, they must have faith that their version is the right one.

Some, like me, are okay in knowing that I'll never know. I like to theorize, to examine as many explanations as are out there. To make up some of my own. To enjoy all the different colors and ways that these strings that connect us to the universe might be illuminated. Some others who settle on one explanations that brings them the most comfort or helps them be the best person that they can be, have faith. But they also understand the fact that it is all arbitrary. The understand that others hold faith in different ideologies as strongly as they do in theirs. They have faith in their religion, but they also realize that different paths to faith are necessary for different people. They are comfortable with pluralism.

Other people, dangerous people, have a strong blinding faith in their own religion. But that very faith causes them to shut down to any different explanation for our interconnectedness. They have to have such concrete answers, they have to know such absolutes, that anything that deviates from their faith causes fear and hatred. The horrible dichotomy of religious faith is that to truly have strong, unwavering faith, you have to reject any crack in the seams. You have to reject any other theories and evidence to the contrary. You have to reject people. Perhaps some people can pull this off without fear and hatred, but most cannot. When they lash out at others who are different, religion becomes dangerous. Whether it is David Koresh followers that allow their children to be burned to death because of their undying faith in one man, or suicide bombers who think their only option in their oppression is to martyr themselves to Allah, to even the Jesus Camp parents who give homeschooling a bad name by cocooning their children away from the world and shaming them into submission, it is all religion gone bad. It is religion based on hate and fear. It is the ugly side of faith. This can happen in any religion. The worst of it often comes out when its followers are the victims of violence, poverty and oppression. It can also come out when cultural or political leaders use religion as a tactic to gain power through violence and oppression. Christians in this situation are terrorists. Muslims in this situation are terrorists. No religion has a corner on the terrorism gig.

I think I do have faith of my own. It is a combination of several theories as to how I am connected to all the threads in the universe. It has a base in science and a bit of new-age-y religion. Of all practices, I think I am most attracted to the earth-based pagan religions that originate even before the abrahamic ones came along and celebrate the sanctity of nature and all living things in it. I'm fascinated by Wiccans and their ceremonial spells. I don't practice it but I can appreciate the symbolism of using the elements of nature to bring forth good spiritual energy. Its more like using fantasy and symbolism to direct your own cosmic energy to something positive. I believe there is something to the power of collective thought. I am inclined to think that prayer circles work because of psychic energy rather than the fact that God is really listening now because so many people are talking at once. D could tell you about physics experiments when they measure some sort of this that and the other energy and seismic readings when people all over the world are thinking about the same things like September 11 or the 2004 Tsunami. Its interesting stuff. But most importantly, I have faith in the fact that I am just a little amoeba in the vast universe and that I am too dumb and unimportant to know everything about how it all works. That's fine with me. Yet, I am still important enough to be here, to be connected to the web of existence, and whatever strings I yank on will flutter throughout the universe. I have faith in the fact that I will always try my best to yank my strings in the direction of love and strength and not hatred and fear. I don't always manage it, but I have faith that I can try to do it even when I don't know what color they are or how or why they are even there.

This is why I think my mom did right by me. When I was young and easily influenced by concrete and oversimplified black and white idealism, she kept me out of the fray of religion. She kept me from falling in too strongly with any one set of ideas based on circumstance or just a need to belong or have absolute answers. As an adult, I have been able to look outside of any one paradigm and develop freely what works for me, while still respecting and understanding, for the most part, what works for others. This is what I want to give to my kids if I can. Freedom to color their web of existence any way they want to.

Appropo to Nothing...I Go Off On Some Garble-ly Gook About Truthiness

I've been pondering a little philosophical exercise today about truth and honesty. I promise this post is not about my in-laws! But it is something my in-laws have said to me a few times in the past during our problems and D just mentioned it again to me the other day. It is something to the effect that I am too honest, or that I somehow "get off" on honesty, or that I put being honest/or otherwise what I would consider "right" on a higher priority than relationships.

Since it is an honest criticism of me, and I try to see what I can take and grow from that. But the whole thing just confuses me. And maybe I am just incredibly dense. I mean be critical of my tact, of my diplomacy, of my patience, of my timing--all of which well and truly suck at times. But I don't get the whole being honest as a means to jeopardize the relationship thing. How can being honest be mutually exclusive from caring about relationships? How can you actually choose one over the other like a multiple choice test? For starters, lets be clear here. I am not totally honest. I lie like the rest 'uv ya. Little white lies or lies of omission to spare feelings. Lies of laziness so I don't have to explain myself. When I was younger, I could tell real whoppers just to have something interesting to say. But probably because of that, and the times I got caught on it, I have really been uber-sensitive to being honest. To me, honesty and truth are the goals we want to achieve. Truth isn't only a tool to get to a healthy relationship, truth equals love. When you open yourself up for someone to see the whole, real you...and you, them...you allow them to love you in your entirety...and you, them.

Is there ever a circumstance when truth is not the goal? In any facet of life? I don't know. I'm pondering...

Of course there is the example of your friend, about to go on a date, who is excited about her new dress which you hate. She asks you if you like her dress. If you know her well, you may know that what she is really saying is, "I'm so excited about this date and this dress and I want to share it with you!" Or, "I'm nervous and I need you to boost my confidence!" She's probably not really asking whether you like the dress. Why is your opinion of her dress even that relevant? You can either give her what she really wants: Shared excitement or a confidence boost, "You look so excited and happy that you just shine with beauty!" "You always look beautiful when you wear something that shows your own personal style." You can even be honest, "Well, that dress wouldn't work for me but I'm glad you like it!" Or, maybe, if you've really cut through the crap and you're really close, you are lucky enough to understand that each of you have entirely different tastes and you will joke to each other about it: "Oh, you know how I LUV when you dress up in pink ruffles! You look like a dime store bridesmaid-turned-ho!" (When you get to that level of friendship, isn't that just the best?) And because you have an honest relationship, you may also know when she really, really values your opinion on the ACTUAL dress itself. Like she is getting ready for a job interview and How do I look? really means How do I look? Be brutally honest because I don't want to screw up this interview and I need your input. Honesty is the only way to get to these places in a friendship. Otherwise, you may hang out, but you sorta reach a stagnancy at some point. We all have these, I think they are called long-term aquintances.

There is a book called Radical Honesty by Brad Blanton that explains how being honest (I don't get the Radical part, I guess it just means, not even a little white lie) can help you to have more meaningful relationships, better life management and organizations, better success in career, etc. They did a story on it awhile back on 20/20. They showed how being honest improved people's lives. But then, and this cracked me up, Barbara Walters said in the epilogue, something like, "Don't try this at home without a trained professional." So, we are so dishonest now that we need a trained psychologist to monitor our having honest relationships? Of course, the book talks extensively about tact and diplomacy (so I should probably go read it!) but the tone of the 20/20 spot was just that this was such a totally way-out there and novel idea. But do you ever imagine what it would be like if we couldn't lie? Like if we lived on Betazoid or something and we were all empathic? And how much that would fundamentally change our society? Hmmm...

A harder one: A death bed confession. Do you tell your dying wife that you cheated on her? Hmmm. I don't know. But I have to open my mind up to the possibility of forgiveness. Maybe the wife always suspected or knew. Maybe she's been waiting for you to fess up to her so you guys can clear your baggage. Maybe the perspective of dying makes the cheating small and not important anymore so even in the last few minutes, the relationship would grow stronger with the honesty and the understanding that in this life, we all screw up. The answer here may be entirely situational. But I can't say that categorically honesty wouldn't be the best way to go.

Truth, of course, is relative. My truth may not be your truth. My truth right now may be different than my truth five years ago. It is a moving and changing thing. It is fluid and only remains a truth in the very instant that it exists. Even scientific facts are not really facts. They are only facts until they are proven not to be any more. My favorite is when people say something like: Fact--38% of all Americans ate french fries yesterday or something like that. Statistics are the most fluid facts of them all. They are only true to the specific subjects in the specific study and are vulnerable to the specific scientists interpretations and scientific model. I'm not saying they are useless, they are little snapshots of truth. But they are not facts. Truth is the best we can do right now. Truth is what we know to be this instant until we know more, better, or differently.

I dare say, and I don't know if it is true (heh), that seeking truth may be the meaning of life. The highest calling. The honor we strive for. The constant searching and peeling back of the layers and observing and experimenting and seeking out, is all to find truth. And then when our time runs out, to pass the torch of light to others so they may continue to seek truth and build on what we've found.

One of the things that appeals to me about Unitarian Universalism, is the very high and almost "holy" value and priority they put on truth. And the recognition that none of us know it, and we are all taking entirely different paths in our search for it. And that we will never get there in this lifetime, but the pursuit is still worth it. The searching out to find it leads us to beauty. Beauty in the earth and in each other and in our society and the universe. And that there is beauty and wonder in the unknown. How lucky we are that we don't know everything so we can imagine all the possibilities? Truth is beauty, as they say.

And truth is also change. Which means that truth hurts and then it heals. Because change is always about death and rebirth. And it is when you find that your old truths aren't working and a new truth is what is real for you, that you know you need to change. Which sometimes sucks. One thing about truth is that once you have found a little piece of it, you cannot go back to the lie.

I think about times in my life when I found a new truth and it meant I had to change. I could not live within the lie anymore. My very earliest memory of this was when I bugged my babysitter to death quoting commercials verbatim and telling her she bought the wrong laundry soap. She finally said to me, "Lisa, commercials lie, ok? Don't believe commercials." I was probably like 5, and I had no idea that what I saw adults telling me on the TV wasn't true. So, then, I became a commercial skeptic. And had to think of the world differently in a way. It was my first real truth I learned about a market economy, and more significantly, that adults lie.

And then there was the stuff you learn in college which completely contradicts everything you learned in high school civics and history. Columbus was a genocidal, slave-trading asshole. Wars are fought many times primarily to keep the military industrial complex in the black. That kind of stuff. I didn't really clue in to media bias that much until the early 9/11 coverage when some channels broadcasted the BBC or other international news and I saw how different their takes were on the attacks and why the U.S. was targeted. This truth made me not ever be able to watch a story on CNN again without checking ten other sources as well.

There are the truths you learn about oppression and social injustices. Every thing from watching the miniseries "Roots" and "The Holocaust" when I was like 7 years old, to my current obsession with the patriarchy since having given birth to boys that I highly desire to figure out how to raise not to be pigs.  You can't go back after you've learned the truth. You can't go back and think that humans don't chain other humans on stacks and stacks of ship decks to sell. You can't go back to a more innocent time. Someday I will have to teach my children about the generations of ways men have overpowered and dehumanized women and my little sweet innocent boys will know that this is possible. That humans can cross that line and go to that evil place. And then I will have to hope that they find their own truth without ever crossing those lines and going to those places.

Truth hurts, but it heals as well. I remember a time when I found out that I was a minority in my own family. And that they had conditioned disdain for people like me. (For we are all victims of institutional oppression, even the so-called oppressors.) It was in blind rehab. And I had this moment of clarity when I found that some of the ways my parents treated me were because of their fear and disdain for blindness and disability. And I understood this fear, because I had it, too. And I learned that the fear about blindness is not in being blind itself, which is very survivable-if not a pain in the ass-but how you will lose your place in society and be outcasted and marginalized.

What shocked me most is that the truth was that society was lying. Being blind wasn't in and of itself a bad thing. Neither is being black or gay or female or poor. The truth I found was that the caste-ing of all of us was the big lie. And that these lies were so pervasive, that even a mother's love couldn't circumvent past them sometimes. Families were being ripped apart by disability shame, gay shame, interracial marriage shame, whatever. A mother's love couldn't see through the lie? Society's lie was that powerful? Once you see the truth in that, you can't go back. But then, time after time, I saw mothers find out their kids were disabled or their sons and daughters were gay, and I saw them push themselves so hard to find a new truth, and to move past the lies that society has told them. And once they did that and learned everything they could learn and reteach themselves new ways of thinking, they turned around to the truth right in front of them that was always there. Their child, shining out beyond the lies. Truth is love.

The only thing you can do when you are immersed in these huge institutionalized lies is try to vigilantly shed some light on it so  that yourself and other people see it for the lie that it is. This has been one of my main passions for the last decade or so. To try to search for the truths in what society has lied to itself about. Its ugly. And some people want the truth to remain hidden from them. They don't want to know. They don't want to have to go through the gateway of truth and never be able to come back to the realm of delusional innocence. We all live somewhere in the realm between delusion and truth. Some people try to forge ahead and much as possible and some try, kicking and screaming, to stay as far away as they can from finding out something that may make them have to change.

The truth hurts, and it heals. The truth is change. When you are blind and suddenly you find out that you'll do just fine as a blind woman, but also that suddenly most people won't think you are worth a shit... YOU will know. You will know that you are the same person. That you have inherent self worth. That you are not the person society's lie will have you to be. You won't have to believe the press about people like you, because you will know the truth. Maya Angelou knew why the caged bird sang, blind people know that they are able to "walk alone while marching together." The truth heals.

But sometimes I see other disabled people who still believe that they are worthless, that hate themselves for not being what others want them to be. They believe the lie that they are a deficit and not "whole" or maybe even better off dead. And I see battered women and children who won't leave their abuser because they think they deserve it. Or young black men and women who think that they are the image of the thug or ho that they see on TV. And I see a woman with holes in her clothes get off the bus that was 20 minutes late and go into the WIC office only to be told she missed her appointment and she can't get her vouchers this month, and I see her think that she deserves this. And I see white people, who think it is okay to go on not knowing or understanding what is happening to their neighbors. And I have to try to be be honest with them, if I can, with what truth I see. They may see something different. And together, we may find something deeper in the truth. Truth is change. But you can't not see things once you see things. And you can't not try to do at least a little something about it if you can. It isn't me that is the pain in the ass, it isn't the truth either, the truth will set you free. It is the lie that is the pain in the ass. It's the lie's fault that it's so hard, not the seeker of the truth.

So, yes, speaking the truth means more to me than the relationship. If it is even possible to make that statement. Because speaking the truth IS the relationship. There is no relationship without honesty. Truth is love. My truth may not be your truth, and if they clash, we have to work together to find out what the lies are and where our honesty lies together. If someone isn't ready to face the truth, then perhaps we go our separate ways for a while, and come back later...or not. I live, as we all do, somewhere between truth and delusion, but I'm going this way with all my energy and spirit and power. And I'd love to travel with as many people who want to come along for the journey. Truth is love, and I'm reaching towards the light.

He who seeks the truth and trembles
     At the dangers he must brave,
Is not fit to be a freeman -
     He at best is but a slave.

Be thou like the first apostle,
     Be thou like heroic Paul;
If a free thought seeks expression,
     Speak it boldly, speak it all.

Face thine enemies, thine accusers,
     Scorn the prison, the rack, the rod;
And, if thou hast truth to utter,
     Speak, and leave the rest to God.

Why Church Is Getting So Much Better

Before around 2001 or thereabouts, I was hearing impaired to the extent that it affected my life some, but not every second of every day. Then, I went from a person who wears hearing aids and says, "What?" every once in a while, to a deaf girl. Specifically, a late-deafened adult with very little ASL and who was also blind. So I was not an easy fit for Deaf Culture or hearing culture. What that meant was that every single social interaction became a struggle. One thing I remember instantly letting go and thus missing a lot is the little banter you have with people like the grocery clerk, the waitress, the bus driver, your neighbor, etc. It took too much energy with not enough time, so I rarely could do that anymore.

I also noticed how talking to a deaf person makes other people freak out. I actually figured this out while working in the child life department at the children's hospital. Part of my job was to go door to door of patients rooms each shift and explain what services I could provide and see if they needed anything. I told them I was hearing impaired soon after meeting them, (I'm referring here to the parents of the patients). Sometimes communication was a struggle. Sometimes I could tell that they were in such a stressed out position that struggling to communicate with me was not something they wanted to bother doing, and I understood that. Usually I could come back later or trade with someone else. But I started to notice that I communicated really well with the families who did not speak English. We had many Hispanic, Vietnamese, and Russian families. I communicated with these families so well, that I often got sought after to be the one to communicate with them. (We had interpreters, of course, but I'm talking about stuff on the fly. Like when they wanted to tell the nurse something about their kid.) I figured out that the reason I did so well with these families, is because both of us were used to having communication struggles and were used to the patience it took to figure out what the other was trying to say. We were not self conscious about it, we just worked and worked with each other until we figured it out. Other people seemed to get very flustered and anxiety ridden and gave up soon and tried to get out of the situation quickly rather than stay there and work it out. This was when I figured out the unique thing about deafness that is not so much of a problem with blindness. You have to depend on other people to meet you halfway, and many times, they don't want to. With blindness, there is a bit of that when you need someone to give you visual information, but people don't seem to have as much trouble doing that as talking to a deaf person. With deaf people, it seems like they spend more time trying to figure out how to bolt than in trying to communicate with you.

The other problem socially is that most people make friends in sort of a macro to micro progression. They meet in some kind of larger group of people with common interests such as a church or a class or workplace. Then, they may break off into a smaller group with people they may find especially enjoyable to be with or because circumstances put them together a lot. For example, a church committee or a class group project or your cube mates at work. Then, finally, one or two of those people may become an even closer friend and you may go out to a restaurant or a movie. Finally, you may start hanging out at each other's houses and such.

Many disabled people almost need an opposite approach. One of the only ways I can have a true interaction with a hearing person without my disability getting in the way is one on one, in my own home, where I am familiar with the surroundings and can control the background noise and am not hindered by accessibility issues and transportation. The problem is, it is really hard to get people over to your house like that when you face barriers at every step above that. You need to know that friend at the one-on-one level first, so that they can help you be included in the more macro social activities. Yet, you can't get that person without the macro social activities. Do you see now why I am such an Internet whore?

So, church. I've been trying to go to that church since around 2000. At first, the timing of the bus I took to get me there took me so early that I had to wait outside for someone to come unlock the doors. Not so fun when it is cold and rainy. I tried to ask for help, but did not get any. (And I even found out that the minister at the time lived in my same apartment complex! He could have given me a ride! But I don't know what happened there.) But I ended up not going so much. About the same time I moved, the church split into two services and that made it much easier to get there. So that problem took care of itself. So next, I'm in the church, but can't see and hear anything. When D goes with me, he helps me a lot with that kind of stuff. But when he isn't there, I'm a bit lost. Soon, they did get an FM system which helps hearing impaired people hear whatever is on the PA. It is the suckiest FM system I have ever used, and I'm not sure why. But the thing gets so poor of reception, that it was actually hurting my ears to use it. I did a lot of experimentation, and finally found that I have to scope out where other people who are using the system are sitting, and sit as far away from them as possible. This is not easy when you are blind, and it took months. But people in general sit in the same places, so I finally have solved most of that problem.

Then there were the doors. The locked disabled access doors that D needed and so do I because I walk with a double stroller that I would rather not carry up an entire flight of stairs, thank you. It took a YEAR of what felt like being a CONSTANT NAGGING BITCH, and sometimes even making the point of hauling my two children and then the stroller up and around the building, but it seems like this year, that problem is solved. The doors have not only been unlocked, but propped open. Also, along these lines, D has not been able to participate in anything at the parish house next door because it was inaccessible. Not that he has been needing to a lot this past year, but he has expressed an interest in helping out the high school youth group, but never could even get into the door to talk about it. Well, I was so happy that just last week they have built a ramp.

Then there was, the snubbing. Snubbing probably isn't the right word for what was happening, but I'm not sure what a better word is. People just wouldn't talk to me. It is one of those things that is hard to put your finger on. Like there are a thousand little ways that people disregard you. And if you looked at each one, you may not think it is a big deal, and some individuals may have even had a very legitimate excuse that has nothing to do with you, but when you put them all together over time...you can only conclude that a large number of people really don't have any interest in getting to know you. I asked people out for coffee and I got turned down every time. I would go up to people and talk and they would make a hasty exit. Once this woman came up and talked to me and I was fiddling around with my hearing aid from having been using the FM system. I said, "I'm sorry, my hearing aid wasn't working and I didn't get all that you said." She said, "So you just let me go on talking when you couldn't hear me?" I said I got the gist of what she said but I might have missed some things. She made a hasty exit and has never talked to me again. I have even said hi to her by name and she doesn't even say hi back. I used to go home from church after this stuff would happen again and again and just feel like crap. Part of it was just asking myself what I was doing wrong or that was so awful? If the Unitarian Universalist can't deal with me, who can?

Yes, I may be strong-willed and have way-out-there opinions and be over-analytical and overcomplicated. Yes, there may be legitimate reasons not to like me, but these people didn't know me well enough to know those reasons. I may be rough around the edges, but I am nice and friendly to people and I know that I am basically a good person. This, and other interactions in the outside world that were similar, led me to believe that this is mostly a disability thing. I used to make friends when I could hear, now I can't. I did not change personalities overnight. So, this has become a quest. I was determined to figure this out.

So if you are going to ask me why I bother going to such a sucky church that makes me feel bad and is a bit slow with the accommodations...the answer is because there is nowhere else to go. Other churches and other community groups may be better or worse in particular areas, but it is the same all around. And as one guy who goes to my church who uses a wheelchair put it, "At least hear they don't try to heal me and tell me that if I accept Jesus and ask forgiveness for my sins, then I'll be able to walk." This is what it is like to be disabled. If you want to participate in something, you've got to work really hard to figure out how. It can take years to gain accommodations and acceptance. The UU church is no different in this respect, I was probably a bit overzealous in thinking that it would be.

So, first I took the summ