…That's what little boys are made of. Or so the 19th century nursery rhyme tells us. Personally, the puppy-dog tail thing is a bit disturbing but that's for another day. Besides, after almost literally being trapped inside my very small home with my two youngest boys for 5 days straight, I have my own idea of what little boys are made of.
Little boys are made of, Gas... they're definitely comprised of a whole lotta gas! As any mother of boys can assure you, boys like to, and find it endlessly amusing, to burp and fart. And if they’re not burping or farting, they learn how to mimic it via sticking their hand in the opposite armpit and then squeezing said armpit against the hand. Why the passing of gas is such a huge amusement is beyond me. It is so popular someone, at some point, thought it necessary to make a toy to simulate the sound of passing gas, the whoopee cushion (this may be one of those weird Trivia things I’ll research, but later, I don’t feel like it right now).
They’re also made of dirt, it’s not quite as bad in the winter, but my boys can go from zero to stinky in 28.3 seconds. This is not made up, this is a documented statistic, there was a study, really (ok, not really, but, really). I could scrub my boys down in a hot, boiling bath with a full bottle of Detol and within moments of getting dressed they have managed to get something sticky in their hair (this is why my boys have buzz cuts), under their fingernails is black and the right trouser knee has grass stains on it. (Or something less identifiable but likely far more disgusting). I say only one trouser knee because they have long since blown out the left knee on pretty much every single pair of pants they own.
But here’s the gross bit, little boys are also made up of snot! I think I should get free shares in the Kleenex company, Puffs and you know, that other brand (I'm too sicktired lazy, to go look). Not because the boys use it, so much as I keep buying tissues because I hope they’ll use it. The reason this drives me crazy at this particular moment, is now I’m made up of large amounts of that lovely nasal mucus-y stuff.
It’s been cold here, not like, Canadian cold, but like Antarctica cold, in fact a couple of days ago, the wind chill in the small town I live near was several degrees COLDER than the South Pole. Global Warming, yeah ok, sure. I’ve said it before, if this is Global Warming, I don’t want to be here for Global Cooling. So at -47°c/-53°F we weren’t going anywhere, for five days, a weekend and then three missed days of school, we were stuck in our wee trailer (which feels even smaller now). It gets better, at the same time, Little Man, my youngest darling child, had a bit of a cold. It didn’t really bother him and he went about his play like a trooper, but here is how I know little boys are made of snot. Little Man is very affectionate and he would come running up to me for a hug only for me to realise, too late of course, that he was wearing his snot. Not kidding. Tissues? What are tissues? Isn’t that what sleeves are made for? And my arm? And my face? This kid had glistening lines marching across his left cheek, from the back of his hand and up to his elbows (I'm sure you can guess the logistics of cheek to hand, etc).
Now school is back in (for one entire day), Little Man’s cold is pretty much gone, I have a kid-less weekend on the horizon with some fun activities planned, and I’ve a “code in mah node… all stubbed ub and feeld lahk carp”. And somehow, or maybe it’s just because I hate being sick, or maybe it's the fibro, my cold is worse than his, I definitely do not feel like "playing". I did everything right, I washed my hands, I made him wash his, we were all taking extra vitamin C, echinacea and making sure we drank plenty of fluids, but I’m sick. It seems like ages since I’ve had a cold, but there it goes. Not only that, I seem to have some mild, but irritating issue with my eyes, maybe pink eye but it doesn’t look like it, they just have a bit of a burning sensation and are dryer than a popcorn fart.
So there it is, my take,
What are little boys are made of? Little boys are made of gas and dirt and lots of snot. And they’re more than happy to share.
Best wishes to my American friends, for a happy and safe Thanksgiving Holiday with friends and family. "May your walls know joy; May every room hold laughter and every window open to great possibility". God bless.xo
As most that know me have figured out, I'm a bit of a trivia buff, no particular topic, but if something catches my interest I'll research it to death, to the detriment of everything else (ie. feeding my kids, housework, etc). One of my favourite bits of trivia has always been to tell anyone that expresses even the slightest interest what the definition of a "Blue Moon" is. I was, in fact, extremely proud of this knowledge. "Ooooo Shannon, you're so smart to know that". (Ok, that may only be in my own mind where that phrase is ever heard). But......
All this time I've been wrong!! Oh whoa is me that spreads incorrect information, apparently I should have dug deeper. I blindly followed along with popular culture and the "accepted" explanation of a full moon. Turns out most of us were wrong. The following article by Joe Rao on Space.com explains what the original classification of a Blue Moon is and how we ended up believing the "new" one. Considering it's such a popular meaning, it'll likely remain, but as for myself the saying, "once in a blue moon" makes much more sense now!
Let me know how you feel about the updated but original definition of a "Blue Moon". Do you have any favourite "trivia" explanations of something? Feel free to share in Smiles & Smirks :)
It's been a couple years since I wrote a blog in Remembrance of our fallen and our troops over seas. I'm not sure what was up last year, well I am, but that's not for this post, but I feel like I dropped the ball so I'm back this year to continue to show my support for our men and women that have fought bravely to protect our freedom.
Military has never been a big thing in our family, but we know we owe our freedom to the men and women that protect it. However, my dad served in the Canadian Navy for a short time and both my grandfather's served in WWII. My maternal grandfather was even old enough to be overseas for WWI. Grandpa Hoberg in particular spent 3 years in Europe, away from his family during WWII. My mom was born just before he left and she had no memory of him, when he came home she thought he was a stranger and tried to kick him out of the house! Funny, and yet, sad too.
So today my tribute is not just for the troops, but for the families that have sons & daughters away from home, for those that have lost mother's and father's, for the spouses left alone to care for their children at home. Here's to you that hold the home fort while our brave men and women protect the freedoms of our country and try to help free oppression in other countries. God bless our troops and their families.
Who in your family do you remember or know that bravely kept/keeps the home fires burning for a loved one serving away from the comforts of home?
This morning I woke up before my alarm. This isn’t particularly unusual except that it was timed a bit nicer this time, rather than 2 or 3 hours before, it was only about 10 minutes so no great loss and kind of nice to not be jolted awake, even the radio can be a bit unnerving after a crap sleep some nights. I find waking up to a specific time (due to erratic sleep patterns perhaps) extremely difficult, and it doesn’t seem to matter what time that is, so I set my alarm a good half an hour before I actually need to be out of bed so I can let myself wake up a bit more gradually.
My routine is basically this: iPhone harp alarm goes off, I wearily hit snooze and attempt to doze off for a few then radio alarm comes on and I blearily try to listen to the "97 second" news update. By this point I might open my eyes, if I can, I reach for my iPhone and check out fb & twitter. Yes, I’m an addict, my name is Shannon and I’m addicted to social media. There, I said it, but I’ll tell you something else, just seeing others starting their day with cheery (and sometimes not so cheery) messages helps to put me in a better frame of mind to start my day.
Here’s the weird thing about today’s routine, I’m laying on my back, reading tweets and suddenly it occurs to me, I have my ankles crossed, and not only are they crossed, it doesn’t hurt! What? No pain? What is this? A small smile starts to tug at the corners of my mouth. One of the cats jumps up and walks up my belly, across my chest, to give me a nose kiss, still no pain. That smile is growing by leaps and bounds, so I call in the other cat just to be sure and then I start poking myself, maybe I’m dreaming. Nope, I seem to be wide awake. I get out of bed and I feel awesome!
Ok, so what, big deal you say. I tell you what, if you’ve ever had a bad case of influenza remember what the first day felt like after you were better. It’s a big deal, but soon you forget all the aches and pains and life goes on it’s merry way, you take it for granted that, other than an occasional headache or after you bump your knee on the corner of the coffee table for the umpteenth time, you will go about your day pain free. For someone with FMS (Fibroymyalgia Syndrome) amongst other things, pain is a constant companion, those flu like aches and pains are NEVER gone. Imagine this, your cat jumping on your legs while you're laying down is uncomfortable, a hug can leave you breathless and forget your child ever sitting on your lap and cuddling, the pain is so excruciating you feel like someone is pouring a layer of hot lead on your legs.
I just had an odd memory this morning, when I was a child I often woke with “growing pains”, yes, I know that’s not odd, shush for a moment. What I’d forgotten is what I felt like in the morning some days. As far back as I can recall, say the age of 9 or 10, some mornings I would wake up and feel like the Princess and the Pea. Remember that story? With all those mattresses, what was it, like twenty or so, that poor princess could still feel the pea and woke up feeling bruised and battered. I remember relating to this story so significantly that I thought maybe I am a princess and somehow I was switched at birth (not kidding). I know I am no princess (except in my daddy’s eyes, but he’s been gone some time) but that tells me just how far back I’ve lived with pain. In just a couple of months, I'll turn 42 years young, so that is at least 32 years of almost daily pain. I’ve had periods of remission, but I think that’s still pretty significant.
This time it’s been well over four years since I’ve had any reprieve. Last time it was for one blissful day. Pain free is so significant and such a blessing that I can recall the exact feeling even if I can’t recall the exact date. I’d been at a prayer meeting the night before and the pastor and attendees prayed over me. It may once again only last for a day (I was going to add maybe only an hour but it’s already been 3 hours :D ), but even if it lasts one week, or one month, I pray that I NEVER, not for a moment, take this blessing for granted!
So, when I say I woke up today and I am pain free, I can shout for joy and tell you that it is a HUGE deal! “Thank you Abba Father, thank you for this gift, for blessing me with this day. Thank you for giving me the pain too, so I can remember to never take any day for granted!”
“Make a joyful noise unto the Lord” Psalm 100:1
Blessings, ~Shannon
For more understanding of the life of those with chronic pain read Christine Miserandino's "The Spoon Theory" and check out her website, "But You Don't Look Sick"
I was inspired yesterday by a blog, specifically, this blog post. But I wasn't inspired to write a post. I know so why am I writing one then? The post is just the means to share the results of what I did do. What I did was write an email. Intrigued? Yeah, probably not, but there it is, I was inspired to write an email. I have been sitting here trying to determine the best way to share what I wrote, but I think I'll quote the entire email.
When Scott Stratten of Un-Marketing.com posted his most recent experience with some cold food, I realised that being silent about my recent unhappy encounter with customer service was doing a disservice to everyone, not just myself. So I sent this email:
Attention: Manager, The Fairmont Empress
My recent stay at the beautiful Fairmont Empress was regarded with much anticipation. Ever since I was a young girl staring up at the castle like hotel from the harbour I've wanted to stay there. With the recent excellent rate offered to those attending the Social Media Camp at the Victoria Conference Centre, the opportunity arrived for a 30 year old dream to come true. I had no expectations of staying in a suite, I knew I would be in a smaller room and that suited me fine. The room itself was absolutely lovely inside, everything I needed. But I do feel I need to make a couple of comments regarding customer service, one not so positive and one positive.
When I booked my room I explained to the agent that my plane would be landing in Victoria quite early the Friday morning and would really appreciate if it was possible to check in early as I have a disability and it would make things a lot easier for me if I didn't have to haul a bunch of things around until regular check-in time. She was absolutely accommodating, asked what time my flight arrived and accordingly booked a 9:00 AM check-in for me. At the time I was also told I would be getting a room with a view of the city. I was immensely pleased with all this and promptly shared with my friends both verbally and on social media platform how great the customer service is at the Fairmont Empress.
Due to circumstances I didn't actually show up to check-in until shortly after 12:00 PM that day, no big deal except I still didn't have a room to check-in to. I must say I was very disappointed, I was tired from an early flight, sore and needed to rest and the best the desk clerk could offer me was, drop my suitcases with the porter and someone would call me when the room was ready. I didn't receive the call until 3:00 PM, a full 6 hours past when I had booked the early check-in (a time chosen by the booking agent, not me). No accommodations were made for this inconvenience and no suggestions even made as to what a stranger in your fine city could possibly do or any indication how long it would be. When I did finally have a room to check-in to, I found my view to include a brick wall from one window and a back alley from the other. Noise from early morning workers waking me every morning of my stay at 5:00 AM banging for an hour straight of something that sounded like the lid to a dumpster. All of which I likely would not ordinarily comment on if it weren't for that original inconvenience of having to wander the city without any idea how long it would be. I realise things happen beyond the control of the hotel, but perhaps it would be a good idea to help out when you leave a person, particularly a disabled one, without the room they were promised, even if it is just for a few hours.
On that note I do want to commend the porter that showed up at exactly the right moment the day I checked-out. Somehow he happened to be on the 4th floor at 4:50 AM just as I was struggling to get my bags out of my room and head down to catch the Airport Shuttle. He helped me with my bags, we had a lovely chat, he brought me a bottle of water while I waited in the lobby ( I didn't ask for it), and helped me take my bags to the shuttle when it arrived. I didn't catch his name but I really appreciated his help and kindness at such an early hour so please pass on my kudos for such an excellent representative of your organisation.
Kind regards,
So that's it, I hit the send button at 3:05 PM MDT and quite frankly didn't really expect much. By 4:54 PM I had a short reply in my inbox.
Ms. McCann, good afternoon and thank you for sharing your experience while visiting our hotel in Victoria.
We do strive for the highest standards of professional and attentive service for which we are known at Fairmont and I am sorry we fell short on your recent visit. Your feedback was shared with our executive office at the hotel to review and advise.
My reaction, sounds nice, but yeah right, it'll likely get dropped at that point. Was I ever wrong. The phone rang at exactly 8:00 PM, an unknown person from somewhere in BC. It was the hotel's executive manager (or some such important, top brass position). Edward indicated that he was about to send an email to me, but decided a phone call would be more appropriate. Apologising profusely, he felt horrible that I was not entirely satisfied with my stay at The Fairmont Empress. He took all blame on the hotel's part, said they should be prepared for such situations and that it was an excellent learning experience. He then asked me what could they possibly do to make it up to me.
Well, I really didn't know what to say, to be honest I think I was in shock that he was going to this much effort. I explained I really didn't expect anything, just that I thought it best they should have some policy in place if this situation presented itself again. I indicated they were quite lucky my disability is minor compared to some and that if some one was quite disabled it could be a much bigger issue. He still insisted he must do something and suggested a free night at the Empress but I explained I don't travel much and really didn't know when I'd be back. He has an executive meeting coming up where they will make a more considered plan, but said if I had friends in the area he'd be happy to give them one special night in the hotel. Edward then explained that many hotels were under the banner of Fairmont but that they were owned separately and he wasn't sure he could get me a free night, but would do his best with his connections in the Banff area.
I was pleasantly surprised, they really cared that a guest had a disappointing experience and he must make it right. Everyone makes mistakes, it happens, but that he was sincerely upset that my visit wasn't completely satisfying meant the world to me. They could have sent me a placating email with a coupon for an entire weekend free and it wouldn't have meant nearly as much as taking the time to phone with a sincere apology and owning up to a need for a change in policy, to learn from the mistake. Customer service like that is hard to come by and truly shows that some people really do realise they wouldn't have a business if it wasn't for the customers.
So instead of me posting, if you're not rich and famous, this may not be the place to stay, I'm sending a shout out, if you want to be treated with respect, friendliness and caring, The Fairmont Empress is the place to stay when you're in Victoria, British Columbia!
What is your best customer service experience? What is your worst? Feel free to share :)
I'm craving chocolate cake... I know what you're saying, so what? We all do from time to time, but to be quite honest, I'm weird, I don't. I don't generally have a sweet tooth at all, except for certain times during the cycle of the moon when, as we all know, we become a completely different persona, our heads appear to spin like the girl in "The Exorcist" and our family members swear we must have forgotten to wear the tinfoil hat and an alien invasion occurred without their knowledge. *Whew* say that 5 times fast.
But I digress, I want chocolate cake.
I tried eating just dark chocolate, which I always have a supply of, 70% and 85% cocoa, no milk chocolate for this girl (remember, no sweet tooth), "in case of emergency". (It's kept in a glass box with a miniature axe mounted to the outside, really... no, not really, but it's a good idea). Unfortunately my outrageously priced, plain dark chocolate, usually the balm to sooth most cravings, just ain't cuttin' it sista!
I want chocolate cake.
I don't want just any chocolate cake either. What I'm really hankering after is a chocolate loaf. You know the kind don't you? It's dense, and moist, and heavy, and rich, probably has dark chocolate chunks or chocolate chips in it and left to your own devices you would likely eat the entire thing yourself. However, I have two problems, the first one is I'm barely functional after a really awesome weekend that also included a severe lack of sleep. Some days I'm a V8, most days I'm a four cylinder that tries really hard to push past those bigger hills, but tonight... well tonight I don't think I've got enough gas to power a bubble mower!
Oops, I digress again... The second problem is where you come in, I can't find a recipe that seems to jump out at me and say... "Pick me, I'm the one you're looking for". Please, please, PLEASE I would be ever so wonderfully grateful if anyone knows what the heck I'm talking about here and happens to have a delicious, no fail, amazing-to-die-for-melt-in-your-mouth chocolate loaf recipe, please send it to me, or post me a link where I could find it. Because I think that if a chocolate loaf cake does not somehow materialise and find itself consumed by this time tomorrow, I may no longer be responsible for my actions.
Thank you, thank you very much. My family thanks you. So do my cats, the ravaged chocolate bars thank you as well.
Nearing the 2nd anniversary of this blog, so 24 months in and I'm only on my 6th post (not counting the 4 drafts that have still not been completed)... nope I don't procrastinate. That works out to one post every 8 months, oh dear.
So I made this great plan back in January to re-focus and get my life in order and I got pretty much nowhere with it. I won't get into my emotional state or the busy summer I've had but just jump in where I'm at on this. School starts in a mere 6 days and I'm far from ready. I also want and need to make my home my "job" during the day for the next couple of months so we can have a comfortable and welcoming place to be through the coming winter months. I'd really like to try to go back to work as well. So... where to start?
I think I need to start by spending quality time each day with my boys, not just a movie and before I get sucked into the big bad net. They only have one actual day of school next week so starting tomorrow morning we will do something together, play a game, play Lego, or go geocaching. I also have to remember that once I am on the computer I still need to pay complete attention to them when they need my help or to just tell me about what they are building or creating. I'll need help with that, so on Monday I will call my doctor to have my Ritalin Rx renewed or to try something else (takes about 3 weeks to get into my doctor so I'll need to be patient on that one). Either way I need help to be able to focus where it matters most and with ADHD it's far easier to hyper focus on the computer than to pay attention to the boys or heed the call of the duties of the domestic Goddess.
I also need to get back to my workouts, I feel better, I'm more energised, I was actually losing weight, a lot of it and I sleep better too. But one step at a time, if I bite off more than I can chew I'll overwhelm myself as I so often end up doing. So we'll start with the quality time with the boys and finding some routine in preparation for the coming school year.
Feeling a need to find some order and routine in your life without getting bored? Feel free to message or leave a comment and perhaps we can encourage each other.
I have been catching up with some blog posts by the woman that inspired me to start my own blog, Dawn Meehan. I was shocked and dismayed to find out she’d recently finalised her divorce. It has been so long since I’ve read hers, or anyone’s blog, that I had no idea she even had marital problems, let alone that it had gone that far. As I read her posts and about how she is not just accepting but moving forward, Dawn continues to inspire me by her amazing character and strength as a woman and now a single mom. In searching for more information, I came across this blog post on judging others from 2008 and although I understand the original context in what she wrote is different from my situation, I believe the message is universally applicable.
Let me explain…
Recently I found myself drowning in judgement from a friend I thought would always understand me, a friend I’d always thought of as a sister. After months of silence from her, I wrote an email asking what I had done that she seemed to be so upset with me, upset enough that even when I spent a few days in hospital in April she really didn’t seem to give a crap. The reply I received from her felt like someone had taken a knife and stabbed me in the heart.
Engaging in a short email conversation via fb, I received replies that had accusations that felt judgemental, accusatory and essentially indicative that because I was struggling in my Christian walk and faith (perhaps one day I will feel ready to write about this) that I was no longer “good enough” to be acknowledged. I read her words and found myself feeling that if I “get my shit together” (my words) I will then be acceptable to spend time with??? Did she bother to ask me what was going on? Not at all. Did she take time to learn that I spent a lot of time keeping my mouth shut around her and not sharing some things because I didn’t want to worry or upset her? No, instead I was accused of not thinking of her at all, that I didn’t take time to stop, whilst in my own personal hell, to see how my actions were affecting her life. What??? Other comments in her emails indicated that she had the idea that my faith struggles were based on some whim, that I “decided” God no longer fit my lifestyle so perhaps it was better He didn’t exist. That I traded in God for activities, the internet and men (I’ve dated one guy in the past year, what a ‘ho I am ! And heaven forbid I not spend every spare moment in or near a church or listening to sermons). Not once, to anyone, did I ever say God doesn’t exist. I cannot now, or ever, deny His existence, I’ve seen too much and experienced too much and felt too much to not believe. It wasn’t about not believing, it was far bigger than that but when I tried to explain to the one person I thought would understand I got pushed away and I didn’t hear from her for months until I sent that fateful email a few weeks ago.
Hurt, angry, confused and in tears I retaliated with accusations of hypocrisy and other words that I knew would hurt. Yet I still kept back most of what I really wanted to say as I still had hope that our friendship was salvageable. I tried to start an explanation of why I was in the place I was AND that I was actually working my way out of that black place (with the help of extremely supportive and non-judgemental friends). Her reply indicated that she had no idea I had been struggling (yet I know I had tried to explain months earlier) and left me feeling she was not interested in hearing what I had to say, that all I said in explanation fell on deaf ears. Comments such as “I had to distance myself to protect my faith as you were taking me to a dark place” Huh? Then in complete contradiction of that saying, “had you talked to me about it I would have been there to help”?? Ummm, I TRIED and my email was deleted (apparently on fb now if you delete an email it’s gone from the sender’s box as well) and I didn’t hear from her until I initiated a new conversation months later. After writing an angry and hurt filled email which I never sent, I finally wrote that I saw no point in attempting to explain further or argue my side, as she appeared uninterested, to say the least, in listening to what I had to say. I got no reply to that email, just another deleted conversation. So where do I/we go from here?
I’ve struggled with this question for awhile now as her friendship, her complete understanding of me, the things we shared, meant everything to me, beyond the popular term of bff she was the sister of my heart. The person I thought I knew, the one single individual I thought would tell me anything without fear, and I her, has become a stranger. There were indications over the past couple of years that there were changes I wasn’t crazy about, maybe I changed and it’s not her? But 18 years of friendship are essentially down the drain. She was the one person I could go to and tell ANYTHING to, she knows things about me that very very few people know. It’ll take me time to trust anyone again the way I trusted her after feeling trampled over and abandoned. I was accused of not thinking of her when she has no idea what I was thinking, that I should know better and that my life choices were unacceptable. Essentially I felt that because I am not a perfect Christian, that I have moments where I have struggled in my faith, then I have to “get better” before I’m “good enough” to receive her friendship. This is where I am left feeling, if it was intended or not, this is the message I picked up.
For the most part it’s been a busy summer and I’ve kept this on the backburner. My faith is renewing, I have amazing friends both online and in person that stand by me and I by them. I’ve been spending time in a fun activity that keeps me and the boys off the computer and outside playing. Until I read Dawn’s blog I could keep my hurt hidden, I could avoid deciding how to react, then these words popped out at me from that post…
Matthew 7 1"Do not judge, or you too will be judged. 2For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you. 3"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? 4How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? 5You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.”
"It's easy to judge someone else and decide that they're incompetent when things are going well for you... A look (or word) that says - I understand; I'm sorry you're having a tough time, it’s ok.
I'm telling you, don't judge others. Let your words and actions be a blessing to them.
Even if you think you know all about the other person or the situation, you don't. Not until you've walked a mile in their shoes, can you truly understand.”~Dawn Meehan
This is EXACTLY how I felt after our fb email conversation. It’s easy to sit in your Ivory Tower, with no financial struggles, no unpredictable disability, confident in the love of your husband and in a “holier than thou” voice point fingers at those that struggle in their day to day life, alone, financially struggling, debilitating disabilities and feeling unloved. I don’t pretend to understand where my “friend” is at in her world, from my side I see something akin to a perfect life and although slightly envious, I’m also very happy for her and proud of her. What I see, and I don’t think she does, is that it’s far easier to keep a strong faith when you’re life is going well, it’s much harder when your life feels like it’s falling apart. I hope, should I ever have the blessings of a much “easier” life, that I never forget the struggles that brought me there and that I never hand out judgements as if I’m better than the person I am pointing at. No matter where I am in life, I am no better or worse than the majority of those I share this world with.
The more I think about things that have been said and actions that have been observed or lack of action, the more I realise we are no longer as similar as we once were. As I look at these things and the differences I see in the two of us that were never there before, the more I realise that the season of this friendship is over. I don’t understand. I have tried, I have struggled, it just doesn’t make sense to me but there it is and I can’t abide intolerance of the frailty of the human condition, physical, mental, spiritual and emotional, none of us are infallible. I am not perfect, I never will be, and as the beautiful Norma Jean Baker once said, “If you can’t handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best”. I will stand by my friends through all their trials and triumphs, give praise and hugs when their lives are going great, be a shoulder to cry on and pray for them when times are tough, but I will not put up with being made to feel like I’m unworthy unless I subscribe to anything other than who I am.
“A real friend is someone that knows all about you, but loves you just the same.” ~E. Hubbard
“He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.” ~E. Hubbard
During a twitter conversation Thursday morning with a friend, I mentioned that things rarely go according to plan so I usually attempt to “go with the flow” in my day-to-day life. As with most important lessons in life, I’ve learned this very one the hard way. Having fibromyalgia (FMS) and chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS) there have been far more occasions than I care to count where I have made plans and promises to do something, and ended up laid out flat; Barely capable of dressing & making my boys pb&j’s for supper, let alone attempting to follow through on plans. Becoming adaptable, and hopefully teaching my children the need to be adaptable, has become something of an art form for me, this past Thursday being another example.
Weather in our area has been less than stellar this spring, with it snowing up to the last weekend in May, many plans have had to either be set aside or permanently squashed. The school track & field day was originally May 28th, then postponed until June r3rd due to said snow, only to wake that morning to dull grey skies, temperatures barely moving into the double digits in Celsius and a light drizzle. Lovely.
They did go ahead with the track meet but as the rain turned to a steady downpour and temperatures dropped I realised that I could not be there in the afternoon to watch as I had assured my children I would. Standing outside in cold, very wet, weather would have left me incapable of doing much for the remainder of the weekend, leaving any further plans I may have in the dust so to speak.I feel terrible, I always do, even though I know I have to make these choices. Sometimes it’s worth the pain and sometimes, quite frankly, it’s just not. I tried to make it up to them, we got takeout from town, picked up the newly released “Alice in Wonderland” blu-ray, some movie junk food and had a nice family movie night. Maybe this weekend, weather permitting, we’ll work our way to the city geocaching and/or a trip to the zoo. It won’t bring back the memories of their last track meet with his school, but it’ll help, hopefully, ease their frustrations with Mum’s limitations.
Aspects of adaptability in the face of FMS:
·Rarely make promises beyond promising to do your best to be there or complete a task.
·Deadlines best be set, at minimum, to double the amount of time it takes others to complete the same project. Then add extra time on top of that.
·Lower your standards. I don’t mean to substandard levels, but perfection is rare at the best of times… for us, expecting such is counter-productive (I think many of us are often perfectionists, so this is easier said than done).
·Go easy on yourself. We may want to be like “normal” people, with “normal” energy levels, but we’re not “normal”… therefore….
·Just do your best!
No matter how much I plan, or decide I want to do, in the next day, next week, next month, or even within the next year, I have to include somea bit a LOT of room for adaptability and that some plans may never come to be. Acceptance, with gumption, is crucial to not just surviving but living a life where pain is our constant companion. Don’t give in, and never give up hope!
