Rusty

So, after many pet failures and pitfalls, we've decided to try again.  Friday afternoon, Andrea, Amy and I drove to the Cecil County SPCA here in town. They have fair adoption practices, a good selection of available animals, and a good vet on premises.  Unfortunately, they didn't have any small dogs.

We decided to take a ride over to Pet Kare in Bear, Delaware.  We adopted a dog from them several years ago and were happy with her temperament and health.  Sure enough, they had a nice selection of small dogs.  The downside to this is that they are all puppies... but then, I suppose that's a good thing too.  First, we saw this adorable little Maltese mix that had the saddest eyes.  Her price tag was far too steep for our wallet, considering the costs of having her fixed, micro-chipped, etc.

While looking for my preferred breed, Yorkshire Terrier, I found only one, sharing a kennel with a Yorkie-Fox Terrier mix.  They looked identical, but the purebred was clearly larger, despite being younger, than the mix-breed... and nearly double the price.

I asked if we could hold the mix and when she handed him to us, it was instant love.  We bought him some food and a bed and on the way home, Andrea named him "Rusty".  A great name for this little guy.  It describes his appearance and his feisty little personality.  He's very cute and very affectionate and very loveable.

Epic Failure

Why is it when some people go through a tough time in their lives, when things aren't going their way or they just aren't having a good day, they feel they have the right to treat other people like shit?  Is it possible to stop for just one minute and consider another human being has their own life with their own pains and troubles?

When someone in my life is having a hard time or has a lot on their plate, I ALWAYS try to find something I can do for them to ease their burden.  Always.  I use kind words and offer as much of myself as I can to help them.

This weekend, my brother-in-law and his girlfriend of 15 years finally tied the knot.  It was her third marriage and very stressful for her, as she knew the serious commitment that she was making because it was the third time she had made it.  But this time, would her husband?  I think that's what the 15 year waiting period was... but that doesn't make it less stressful!  With four children and a lot going on, I offered to do anything and everything that I could to help her... after all, it was just 9 years ago that I was feeling the stress and pressure of planning a big wedding.  Even the small things that I was able to contribute made a difference, I knew it in the many, many different times they thanked me for my help. It made me feel so good to see them smiling as they left the church, and to know that in some small way, I helped.

Other times, I find big ways that I can help.  Today that blew up in my face.  I'll maybe never offer big help again.  The backfire is more pain than I can take.  I suppose some people don't want bigger help, or small help.  But there are graceful, kind ways to thank a person for the offer and gently decline.  That's not at all what I received today.  My heart is heavy and I feel like going back to bed and trying life all over again tomorrow.  Today was an epic failure.

I have so many blessings in my life today, but they didn't come easily.  I had a very, very difficult life for 10 years first.  I suffer from mental illness.  It has made my life miserable and it stole my teenage years.  From age 12 to age 20, my life was torturous, miserable, unbearable hell for me, and for my parents.  My illness comes with severe bouts of very deep depression, coupled with nearly-constant severe anxiety.  Despite my sometimes tough exterior, I'm one of the most sensitive people you'll ever meet.  I weep for mistakes that I made over a decade ago, my wrongs haunt me.  I only lived until age 20 because of the love of my family, especially my mother and older sister.  My first born daughter took it from there.

When things "get" to me, they stay.  I haven't learned yet how to let go, how to forgive myself, or how to let things roll off of me.  Particularly when those "things" are jabs from the people I care about.

Fashion (non)Sense

Is it all men that can't match their clothes?  And, is it that they can't or that they don't want to?

My husband and sons drive me crazy with this.  My older son, 8, will freak out if I try to make him wear a green shirt with blue jeans because blue & green don't match... so he must care, it's clearly a lack of fashion sense in his case.  But, he's 8, and he's learning.  What's my 34-year-old husband's excuse?

John thinks that any two or three shades of the same color are still the same color, and therefore, they must match, right?  I have to send him back to change his clothes more often than I care to admit. It drives me bonkers.  I'd also like to have a discussion with whomever decided making slider shoes for men was a good idea.  My husband will wear them with white crew cut socks and cargo shorts.  He also has a terrible time with that greenish-brown color that he somehow finds himself with.  "No honey, army-green slacks do not go with a sage-green shirt, and for the love of God, would you wear black socks, PLEASE?".  I don't mean to be so picky, and I let a LOT of his fashion errors go without correction.  I'm hardly a fashionista myself, as anyone can clearly tell, I'm every bit the jeans & tee shirt girl I always was... but my jeans & tees always match and they never have stupid prints on them, are stained or have holes in them.  After a few years of marriage, some of my husbands clothes have "disappeared"... like the "Bart-man" Simpsons tee shirt that I'm sure was from the late 80s.  I just couldn't stand looking at it anymore.

The Sister's Code

Recent information has brought up the topic of a 'Sisters Code' in conversation with my younger sister, Laura.  In our society, there are "codes" or general, universal rules to follow in order to preserve a valued friendship, like not telling your friends secrets, not talking behind a friends back, always siding with your friend in an argument, even if you disagree, etc.

Sisters are a special relationship in your life, a relationship like no other you will ever have.  Some sisters are the best of friends, others just tolerate each other, and a few even despise one another... but you are still sisters, family.

I grew up with three sisters (one full, two half), and through my brothers marriages, I've added a few more.  When I married my husband, I gained five more!  They are all different kinds of sisters, but all sisters nonetheless, and I love each and every one of them as my sister.  People who don't have sisters think that having a sister means you have a friend for life.  Sadly, they are mistaken.  Being sisters doesn't make you friends, and if anything, it's harder to be friends with your sister than any of your friends.  My sisters are all different shapes and sizes, and no two of my sisters are even similar to another.  We are all different personalities, having made different life choices, living completely different lifestyles with different priorities.  Some of us get along just fine, some of us not so much.  A few of us can't stand to be around another, and even fewer actually have a genuine friendship.  I have a little of each in my mix, regardless, we are all sisters and when push comes to shove, with little exception, we are all there for each other when we are needed.

So, with this life-long relationship, why do we not have a "Sisters Code"?  My conversation with Laura made me think about it.  We do have a code, it's just unwritten, because so many of us already follow the "do unto others" rule of thumb, we often overestimate the selfish few who don't consider others feelings when they take action or open their mouths to speak.

So, without further ado, these are not in any particular order.

• Loans:
• Always return any item that you borrow from your sister, as quickly as possible and in the same condition that you borrowed it.  If you break, ruin, stain, rip or lose that item, replace it with new or like item.
• Never loan an item to your sister and expect to get it back right away, or ever.
• Homeland Defense:
• Never let anyone who is not a sister bully or threaten one of your sisters.  If your sister has a butt-whooping coming to her, it is better for her to receive it from you. If you are unable to deliver said whooping, but she still deserves one, be a good sister and give her as much notice as you can so that she can try to right her wrong.
• Men:
• Never date someone who dated your sister.  This is bad for you and hurtful for your sister.
• Never let your sister set you up with her ex.  If he wasn't good enough for her, he's not good enough for you.
• Do not flirt with someone that your sister is already interested in.  Men are a dime a dozen, let her have him, find your own man.
• Jealousy: Don't hate, celebrate.
• You are not perfect, nor the richest and luckiest, most educated and successful person in the entire universe.  Therefore, other people are bound to do better than you at many things in your life.  Why not your sister?  Don't think it should've been you, just be happy for her.  At some point, she'll feel or has already felt the same way about you!
• Parenting:
• No parent is perfect.  There is no rule book, no instructional video, and every child is different.  Don't criticize your sister's parenting, surely she's doing her best, and you can't possibly know what it's like to raise her children.  If she asks for advice, offer it, but still don't criticize.
• If you don't have any children, shut up.  You don't know the first thing about the pain that comes with just loving a child, much less raising one.  Think it all you want, but don't ever say it out loud, to anyone. Ever.
• Friendship:
• The best qualities in a friend are the ability to listen, comfort, cheer you up, and just be there.  If you want your sister to do this for you, you must first do this for her.
• Events:
• There are events in your life that your sister should absolutely be included in, half-sister, sister-in-law, step-sister and adopted sisters alike.  They should all be invited to your wedding, baby shower, parties, funeral, etc.  I don't care if you barely speak to her or if you have very little in common, this makes no difference.  She SHOULD be invited to these important events in your life.
• Parents:
• Some of your sisters have something very important in common with you: your parents.  Join together to celebrate your parents, don't fight for their attention. You're not 10 anymore.  When they are celebrating an anniversary, Mom is turning 50, or even Mothers/Fathers Day, join together to really show them they are appreciated and loved.
• Later in life, your parents will need you, more than you know.  Sometimes, financial responsibilities fall on the children when special care needs, medical attention and even funeral costs come around.  Your siblings all followed different paths, and just because one of them is a doctor or lawyer, doesn't make them responsible financially over you because you are a burger-flipper.  Your parents raised you and paid a fortune to do it.  The LEAST you can do is save up a few thousand dollars to help make sure they get the beautiful funeral that they deserve.

I will likely return to add more rules to this code as time goes by and things I didn't know needed to be said become problems for people.  Also, feel free to make suggestions for my code, and to share it if you wish.

In general, if everyone just considered everyone else equals and took a few minutes to consider whether their actions or words may hurt someone that they love, this code may never be needed.  Alas, not all of us have said foresight.

vocal filter

I'm no longer a "young person".  I think that I first realized it when I discovered that I had unknowingly grown a vocal filter.

I'm curious if it's possible to teach our children at a younger age, how to filter the words from their brains to their mouths.  I suppose it's a function of maturing enough that you actually begin to care about not only your own image, but the feelings of everyone around you.

Occasionally, I will still put my foot in my mouth, don't we all?  Honestly though, from about 12 years old to 25 (and some who seem to never learn), it's surprising to me that some people are able to speak at all, with having their foot in their mouth around the clock.

Perhaps we should further instill not talking with your mouth full?

Judge not, that you may not be judged.

I suppose I'll never understand the power that a church can have over its people.  Being a Catholic, I'm often lumped into the category of "follower" and accused of being a puppet. People make snide comments about Catholics thinking they are always correct, the only true church, Catholic "guilt", the list goes on and on.  I wasn't raised Catholic, I wasn't even baptized Catholic. I attended Catholic school for one year, the seventh grade.  Years later, pregnant with my first child (out of wedlock), I turned to the Catholic Church. Despite its reputation, no one denounced me, or ever mentioned that I wasn't Catholic, wasn't married, or that I had sex outside of marriage.  I was welcomed into their faith, arms wide open, without any judgment.  I converted to Catholicism at 19 years old, and was very happy with that decision for many years.

During those years since, I've seen blatant disrespect from certain other faiths over many different traditions and rites.  When my daughter was six months old, and ready to be baptized, the God Parents whom I selected were Baptists. My church had no issue with that, they only asked that a Catholic would "stand up for them", effectively backing them up.  When baptism day came, my daughter was stripped of her chosen Godparents... not by the Catholic Church, but by the Baptist Church.  Not believing in the baptism of babies, they had to refuse to even attend the extremely important event in my daughters religious path.  A few years later that same couple was unable to attend my wedding. Not because they didn't believe in marriage, but because they couldn't attend a Catholic wedding.

Why the cold shoulder? Can't we all just get along?  When I went through my classes to convert to Catholicism, I was specifically taught that it is not my place to judge anyone or any other faith. That religion was the spiritual choice and calling of each individual person.  We were taught to rejoice and celebrate the births of all babies, the marriages of all couples, the passing of each person who had gone on to join Jesus in heaven.  We were encouraged to visit and partake in everyone's religious traditions and to do so joyfully.  We were taught to love our neighbors and to treat each and every person just as we wanted to be treated ourselves.

I've had my struggles with my faith, I think probably many people do, although far more often than I think I should.  Recently though, I think I've come to a few new realizations.  My difficulty isn't with my faith, or my Church.  My difficulty has been with certain people and their "old ways" and the new politics of my Church.  The Catholic Church, separate from the Catholic faith, is a very flawed organization.  Every religion with the historic age that the Catholic church has, I believe has had bumps in its road and has erred in some ways.  I recognize those of my church, and I appreciate that we have learned so many lessons from them.  My disappointment with my religion is the political way, rather than religious and righteous way, that they handle some of the bumps in their road.  My disappointment is in our inability to grow and evolve and adapt to the world we live in, and our inability sometimes to "practice what we preach", for example, why are women not yet priests?  I believe our religion supports it, but for whatever reasons, our Church has not caught up.

Yesterday, we buried my grandmother.  She was a Catholic, although was unable to attend mass regularly, as she had given all of her time to care for her blind husband and severely disabled son for most of her life. When her husband passed back in 1995, she struggled to care for her son and needed visiting nurses and aides to assist. Still, she cared for him in her home, business as usual.  Until the day came that she suffered a stroke that cost her the use of one side of her body, and everything changed.  My aunt and her family moved into her house, which was next door to us) and we converted a family room into a bedroom for my handicapped uncle.  This lasted a few years, but eventually, my uncle ended up living in special homes for people with severe handicap, homes better equipped to care for him.  And then my Grandmother ended up in a nursing home, gradually deteriorating from dementia and the general tolls of old age.  She turned 90 years old on March 20th, and a week later, we were saying our goodbyes.  She was ready to be reunited with the love of her life, and God was ready to bring her there.

Her plot was already reserved, right beside her husband, in the Catholic cemetery that she chose for them when she buried him following his Catholic funeral services.  Sixteen years later, we followed suit.  She had a viewing, followed by a formal Catholic funeral mass and burial.  Respectful of her faith and the decisions she had made for herself and her husband many years earlier.

Why then, would a few people who were of a different faith find fault in this plan?  Why would you think it would be okay to have the funeral at YOUR church, a different faith entirely than that of the deceased?  Why would that even be a consideration?  This Baptist religion, so quick to point the finger at Catholics, but has proven itself time and time again, to be the very things it accuses the Catholic religion of.

I try to not generalize, because as a Catholic, I see how different each diocese is from the next.  However, in three different instances, from three different churches in three different parts of the country, Baptists have looked down their noses at us with the very air of arrogance that they accuse me of.

Let's not even get started on the Westboro Baptist Church.

"Judge not, that you may not be judged, For with what judgment you judge, you shall be judged: and with what measure you mete, it shall be measured to you again." Matthew 7: 1 & 2

Sleepwalk... not the song.

Today was an unseasonably warm and beautiful day, enough so that all of my children delighted in the hours of outdoor playtime in shorts and tee-shirts.  I love these days when I can open every window in the house and just let that gentle spring breeze blow straight through.  The sounds of children squealing and laughing and giggling pouring in from up and down the street, and the occasional boat horn or speed boat engine roaring up or down the canal.

I also love this weather because it really tires the children out well.  They were in bed without a peep tonight, all four.  Even the two boys who typically need to be told to stop wrestling, fighting, singing, giggling, or chattering at least a dozen times each night after "lights out".  This rarely occurs throughout the colder months, so this first peaceful, beautiful night is amplified in my head (and my nervous system). A serene beginning for me during my husbands week-long absence for business.

I did have a short interruption to my soothing evening silence though, and it provided me with a little chuckle.  Our oldest daughter, Andie, did something she has never before done.  She stumbled halfway up the stairs and I asked, "who goes there", not knowing if it were her or our youngest daughter, who also has a bedroom downstairs from our living level.  She replied, "me!" (as though that would solve the mystery). She then mumbled something that seemed incoherent, but figuring I hadn't heard her clearly, I asked her to come up to the living room.  As she stumbled up the remaining 5 steps, she repeated herself, "I can't read the hair clip". In my mind, I'm thinking, "is my 12 year old drunk?".  She walked over and plopped down onto the sofa, and repeated it, stating that "the other girls can't read them too".  It was very clear at this point that she was sleep-walking... a first in my family.  I asked her to go to bed, and she grunted at me, and told me she is mad at me, but said that she didn't know why. She rolled off of the sofa, headed back toward the stairs, tripped over thin air and then apologized on the way back downstairs.  I dared not ask for what she was sorry, but decided instead to believe that it was for being angry with me, for using the word "mad" incorrectly (again) and for grunting at me.