We can do better

Volunteered again tonight.

[Big sigh]

I have a feeling that this place is going to be a source of endless frustration for me. I have all these opinions on how they could be doing things better. But who am I? I don't have children. I don't have a degree in anything child-related. I've never had a job involving children - unless you count babysitting in my teen years.

But I just can't help myself. I wonder WHY are they doing this? Why are they NOT doing that? And this is my blog so I am allowed to say whatever I want, right?

After snack time. I counted. There were 11 kids, 8 staff people and me. Holy Almost-a-one-to-one-ratio, Batman! What a great opportunity to give the kids some focused attention. Let's each grab one or two kids, sit with them, read to them, talk with them, color with them. They have plenty of group activities all day. Let's create just a little block of time in their day where they get the full attention one caring adult.

Nah.

Let's sit them in front of a movie.

Again.

Just like last night.

And the night before.

And let's have the move be Mulan. And let's have the last scene that we show be the one where Mulan is being abandoned by her army buddies because they found out she was a girl. (A moment earlier they were going to kill her, but decided not to.) Let's watch all the people she cares about walking away and leaving her on a snowy mountaintop all by herself. Then let's shut off the TV. Sweet dreams kiddies!

Yes, it is a cartoon. And most of the kids are too young to fully comprehend the story. But I'll bet you they know scary when they see it. And sad - they certainly know what crying looks like.

So why?! Why even have movies that contain ANYTHING scary, slightly violent or with scenes of abandonment or sadness or bad things happening to vulnerable people? These kids have experienced loss in their lives. Some have witnessed or been victims of real violence. They've just been pulled from their homes and sent to to live with a bunch of strangers. They have no control over anything and they have no idea what is going to happen next. Their REAL lives are scary and sad.

Why can't this place be a true shelter from the storm - full of gentleness, safety and peace. A place where we deliberately filter out unnecessary images of violence and scariness. Where we wouldn't THINK of showing a movie that has any frightening content, even if it is a well known Disney cartoon. Where the only movies we show have fluffy bunnies singing the alphabet or a family of bears who take a vacation on a boat and have fun and SAFE adventures.

You cannot protect any child from every single scary or sad thing they might encounter in this world. And you shouldn't necessarily put them in a protective bubble so tight that they don't develop any resilience or learn how to cope with difficult situations.

But why don't we put a little more thought into the things that we CAN control with THESE children while they are temporarily in our care. These children are special. They need extra comfort, a little more nurturing of their fragile spirits, and lots and lots of gentleness and safety in their surroundings. We can and should do better.



It doesn't take a freaking genius to figure that out.

Even though it frustrates and upsets me, I still feel like I need to keep going back. Especially when it frustrates and upsets me, I feel like I need to keep going back.

Creepy crawly in my yard last night

Doesn't this look like the face of a monkey wearing a hat (and giving us the finger?)

Diplomacy

At work.
I get an email from a coworker requesting that I write a letter for him and send some materials to a prospective customer.

My first thought:
I am not your monkey.
Write your own stinking letter.

There is no reason he can't write his own letter. None at all. He has a good grasp of the English language and knows how to use a computer. Have to nip this one in the bud or I'll be doing all sorts of stupid crap for him.

So my diplomatic reply is:
Why don't you write the letter and I'll gather up the materials to send?

Can't you just feel the cheerfulness oozing out of that sentence?

He wrote his own letter.

There's a customer on the phone. One of our designs shows just a portion of a table with a cloth over it.  It is really just the edge of the table. There are dark and light shadows underneath the tiny part of table that does show. She wants to know what is under the table. She really needs to know.

My first thought:
Are you out of your mind?
Do you really have that much time on your hands that you can worry yourself about things like that?
Holy crap, lady - SNAP OUT OF IT!

My diplomatic response:
I have no idea what is under the table. We can erase that part out of the picture, if you would like us to.

I seem nice on the outside, but evidently my uncensored thoughts are not so nice. Like a chocolate-covered espresso bean. Looks good on the outside and at first it seems sweet. But when you get to the center, it's all dark and bitter.

Failure stinks

It is tough to be a failure. Especially at something so simple – like bleeding.

I went to donate blood this morning. Filled out the forms and passed the finger prick test. They were busy in the Bloodmobile but I had an appointment so I got to go ahead of others. The nurse got all the gear assembled and then hooked me up. I felt a pinch that didn’t go away when she taped the tubes to my arm. She had me squeeze a squishy ball every few seconds.

She came back and adjusted things again. Still feeling the pinching where the needle was. She looked at the bag and said that it wasn’t filling up. She adjusted again and told me not to squeeze the squishy ball so hard. She went off to do intake on a new person and then waved to get the attention of another nurse and pointed at my bag. He adjusted my tubes again and said something about her not setting it right the first time.

More waiting. More adjusting. More comments about my squishy ball squeezing performance.

Then I just ran out of time. Apparently there is a time limit. I didn't make it. As she and the other nurse were looking at my pathetic bag of blood, she asked me if I had any fluids in the last day. Huh? Do they really ask this? Are there people out there who do not drink liquids every day? I told her I am always drinking water.

And to myself I thought, "Sure. That's what it is. My blood must be the consistency of cake batter and can't make it through your little tubes because I didn't have a glass of water this morning. I'm sure that's it. It couldn't possibly be because you did a crappy job putting the needle in my vein."

Unfortunately, they couldn't even use the blood that they did get. Had to throw the whole thing away. My attempt at giving was a giant waste of supplies and everyone's time. I asked if I could donate again in less than 8 weeks, since they hadn't sucked so much blood out. They said no - I still have to wait 8 weeks.

It wasn't a total waste. I was able to sign up for the National Marrow Donor Registry.

www.despair.com

Mr. Excitement

At work I emailed someone with an address to use in case they needed to send something by FedEx. This was his exact reply:

Ok!! Got it!! I’ll make it known to the Lender as well. Thank you for the clarification!!

Dude. Time to lay off the caffeine?

Or maybe he has some form of Keyboard Tourette's Syndrome and can't help but hit the exclamation point.

I'm going to email him a phone number change and see what happens.

A better day

A better day in the Twilight Zone - and a worse one.

The better:
Again some older siblings came to visit the younger ones. This time they were given a choice to watch a movie or go play or read in the younger kids' rooms. They all chose to go off and play. The 6-year-old's sister got to read him his bedtime story. YES!!!!! That's what I'm talking about, people!

The worse:
Reading a bedtime story to a 4-year-old. It's an alphabet book with fruits and vegetables. When he sees apples he says, "I like those at my house." When he sees oranges he says, "I like those at my house." Then he says, "My Mommy wants me at my house" and starts to cry. He is standing beside his bed and I open my arms and ask him if he wants a hug. He says no, gets into the bed, puts the covers over himself, turns his back to me and continues to cry. I put my hand on his back and tell him that I know he is sad and I'm sorry. He cries and I sit with him like that and rub his back. He eventually stops crying and turns back around to face me. He wants to keep reading the book so we do. Then I say goodnight and leave him with one of the staff.

It was really hard for me not to start bawling right along with him.

I might eventually stop writing about this because I have a feeling it is going to be just more of the same. Many more sad, scared, confused children asking for their mommies. There is definitely going to be a limit on how many times I can tell that same story.

Just What the Hell is Going on Here

This place where I volunteer - sometimes it is like a Twilight Zone episode. Such odd things can occur. Things that just don't make sense to me. I have to accept the fact that I am not in charge. That I can't make all the changes that I would like to see. I might be able to influence things a little, but I am not there often enough to even know the whole story most of the time.

The joyful part:

The 6-year-old from last week is still there. He hugged me and said he missed me. I got to stay until they went to bed and read him two books in his room before saying goodnight. I didn't expect him to still be there. The more I see him, the harder it is going to be when I show up one day and he's gone. I hope he is there when I go back on Friday.

The strange parts:

There were just three kids in the section today. Four staff members and me. What a great opportunity to give the kids some one-on-one time. Nah. Let's just sit them all on the couch and watch a movie.

And here is a great example of how I can be quick to judge, but maybe I don't have the whole story. Maybe the three kids had a day chock full of great one-on-one attention from the staff. When I first arrived, two of them were helping one of the older ones with his homework. Maybe they had an enormously stimulating day and the passive activity of watching a movie was really what the kids needed. I might not have enough information to make that call.

I start to read books with the 6-year-old in the same room that the movie is playing. It's like a living room area where they have big couches. We are reading and pausing because he is getting distracted by the movie at times. But we are still interacting. Then one of the staff says, "Okay, no more reading. We are watching the movie now." Really? I can't read with the kid?!?!

[I start to hear the Twilight Zone music. Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do.]

So I think, okay, I'm still with him and he's snuggling a little next to me and that is a part of what he might need too - some physical closeness with a caring adult. We can watch Will Smith as a cartoon fish doing silly cartoon fish things.

Then a staff person from another section brings in the sister of the 6-year-old and the two sisters of the 2-year-old to visit. These are older kids who stay in a different section. Time to stop the movie so these siblings can have some quality time together? Of course not!

[Do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do.]

They let the siblings sit next to each other on the couch and continue to watch the movie. The 6-year-old gets shushed by his older sister when he tries to talk to her because she's aware that, at the moment, they are expected to sit quietly and watch the movie. The 2-year-old is clearly happy to see his sisters but they also look like they feel they have to watch the movie and don't really get to give him much attention.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!?!? WHO THE BLEEP IS RUNNING THIS PLACE?!?!?!? Why are we not shutting off the movie and encouraging the older siblings to talk and interact with their brothers? Isn't that simply good common sense? I am convinced that at least two of the staff were enjoying the movie too much and didn't want to shut it off. Reminds me a little of the first time I volunteered there. It seems like they are used to doing what they need to do to get through the day and not really thinking too hard about the emotional needs of the children.

I haven't been doing this very long but I hope that as I get more comfortable there and the staff gets more comfortable with me, that I'll be able to influence things in a different direction when I see these odd things. For now I am just trying to focus on being there for the kids.

How many kittens does it take to get the Cheney stink out of the room?

This was Sunday mornings blog entry. But I didn't want to spend the day getting all steamed up while I tried to finish it because Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest and peace. So I finished it up later in the week.

***************************************

Sunday morning:

I was having a hard time waking up this morning. I was physically out of bed, reading news on the computer but my brain was only half awake. Then I saw this:

Cheney: Obama detainee policies make US less safe

Cheney: Don't blame Bush team for economic woes

Nothing like seeing something that makes your blood boil first thing in the morning to wake you right up!

I'll try to keep the profanity to a minimum, but I can't promise to control myself when a man who has had quite an enormous role in getting this country to EXACTLY where we are today will not just SHUT HIS #$%^&#$ MOUTH and crawl back into whatever hole he usually lurks in, so the people who now have the responsibility to pick up the pieces from the DISASTER that he and his pals left of this country, can do the work that is needed to be done.

Okay, Mr. Cheney, just keep telling yourself that you and your administration did everything right and that everyone else is wrong.

That the Iraq War went just as planned and when the whole shaky "democracy" that we've built there collapses in on itself, that it will be the new administration's fault.

That the illegal and repulsive torture which was done in America's name did NOT create more terrorists around the world who hate us.

That holding prisoners for over 7 years without charging them with any crime or bringing them to justice was a outstanding example of America's highest ideals and values, not a shameful abuse of power.

That lining the pockets of contractors like your Haliburton buddies with no-bid contracts and laughable oversight is just good fiscal practice.

Just keep TELLING YOURSELF these things if that's what gets you through the day. But STOP TELLING US ANYTHING. You had your time. Now is the time to sit back, shut your %$@&*% mouth and let other people try to rebuild the wreckage that you have left behind.

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Glenn Greenwald Column on the subject

And now to try to counteract the bad mojo that I just released on this blog, let's all take a moment and look at some cute kitties.



















Ahhhh... now doesn't that feel better?

No more poo

I just read some information online about how to stop using shampoo on your hair. Forever. You use baking soda and apple cider vinegar instead.

Why my family is going 'no poo'

A Non-Toxic, Frugal Way To Wash Your Hair Without Buying Shampoo

I am DEFINITELY going to try it.

Hey sisters - I DARE YOU TO TRY IT!

(Okay, brother too. I dare YOU to try it too.)

volunteer time

I volunteered after work today.

Little boy with the bright smile gets sad when I have to leave. He is about 5 or 6. We read books. He made me read Dr. Seuss at lightning speed and laughed all the way through.

They had just transitioned from the playroom to snack time, so it was a good moment for me to leave. I told him I was going. He gets a sad look on his face and says, "Why do you have to goooo?" I said that I have to go home and eat dinner. He said, "Are you coming back?" I said I would come tomorrow (and I will.) He said, "When? Early?" I said it would be later in the day. He was still sad when I said goodnight and left.

And it made me really wonder - is it a good thing for these kids for me to come, play with them for a little while, give them some loving attention and then leave?

They have just been yanked out of their homes and their world probably feels chaotic and scary. They have staff people rotating in and out of their lives every day as each shift changes. They watch other children come and go - the new kid today could be gone tomorrow. The are kept safe and clean and fed, but nothing in their lives is stable or predictable.

So am I just another unstable element in their lives? I show up for a few hours a week, play with them and always leave. And I can't usually promise that I'll be back the next day.

I have to tell myself that it does benefit the kids or I wouldn't be able to do it. The staff people have to focus a lot of their energy on running the place and they can't always give their full attention to being with the children. I can play with them, talk to them and just be with them. They can have my full attention while I am there.

I have to believe that any small, kind gesture - a hug, telling them that they did a good job, reading books together - can have a positive impact. I can't change their lives or fix their difficult situations. I can only offer brief moments of kindness and love - and hope that it will bring some small measure of peace into their unsettled lives.

The next day

I went back after work the next day. The 6-year-old was still there and he ran up to me to give me a hug as soon as he saw me. I just want to fold him up, put him in my pocket and take him home.

Later in the evening his older sister came over to say goodnight. She is staying in one of the other sections with kids her age. I am so happy to know that he has an older sister in his life. So relieved that he is not going through this completely on his own.

What you see is not what you get

String Bean Chicken.

Look at it. Doesn't it look good? It is on their healthy eating menu too. Big chunks of tender chicken breast. Fresh-cut string beans looking so fresh and crunchy. And even big slices of onion simmered in their garlic ginger soy sauce.


Look at what you really get.


Oh, the bitter, bitter disappointment . . . that is now in my stomach.

this little weed

This little weed. Reaching out
from a crack in the concrete.


Look what it has done -

found life on barely a sliver of earth.


I just can't bring myself to pull it out.

How could I?

When I grow up

When I Grow Up

In 5th grade, one of our class assignments was to write an essay and draw a picture about what we wanted to be when we grew up. I remember that I didn’t have the slightest idea. Was it due to a lack of imagination on my part? The limited exposure to career-minded females in my life? Or was it just a Zen-like focus on the present – “I’m ten years old, for Pete’s sake, how the heck do I know?”

So I wrote that maybe I would go to Jr. College and then become a secretary. My Mom was going to Jr. College at the time to get a nursing degree. I’m not sure where I came up with the secretary part – there were secretaries who worked in the school office and secretaries in the doctor’s and dentist’s offices.

When my teacher read my essay, she told me, “No, do it again.” I was a bright kid and she was flabbergasted that my dreams were so narrow. Of course, she said it in that encouraging, positive-reinforcement way that teachers do. But she basically told me that what I had handed in was not acceptable.

I remember sitting back down at my desk and still not having any idea. I was a very pragmatic kid and took things literally. I thought that I really had to KNOW what I wanted to be in order to write it down. But it was also clear that telling the truth wasn’t an option. I couldn’t get away with saying “I really don’t know.” So I made something up. Something I knew she would find acceptable.

I wrote that I would become a doctor and drew a picture of me as a doctor with a stethoscope and white coat. When I showed her this one, she was very happy. I could tell that she thought she had uncovered my real dreams. She was proud of herself.

I didn’t become a secretary or a doctor. But I did become very good at telling people what they wanted to hear.

more than green

Green is not the only color around here.

All of these flowers are in the front yard. I have absolutely NOTHING to do with any of these plants being alive. NOTHING.

I don't water, weed, feed, plant, or prune any of these. They are just there.

Like many things in my yard, they live on... no matter how much I neglect them.


I had to end with yellow. Such a happy color.

February Walk

The color of the day is GREEN.


It has been raining here lately. Not enough to reverse the perpetual California drought. But it turns everything green rather quickly.








The rain also makes the river run.

Monday in my head

Every Monday I have an existential crisis. It starts at exactly 10:00 A.M.

Let me set the scene. Monday morning we have a Management/Sales Meeting immediately when I get in. (Yes, I go into work at 10:00 in the morning.) The meeting includes Enthusiastic Sales Guy and The Boss Man (a.k.a The Big Idea Guy.)

I love Enthusiastic Sales Guy. He is unfailingly positive and tenacious out in the field. Rejection just bounces off of him like those crazy, rubber balls that we used to get out of gumball machines when we were kids. He moves on to the next prospect with unabated optimism. Enthusiastic Sales Guy has been selling for a long time. Let's just say that he started well before computers were so ubiquitous. He is not very technically savvy. I am always helping him figure out little problems with his email and his laptop. I get annoyed sometimes, but I give him a lot of credit for trying to use technology as much as possible, even when it is not one of his strengths.

The Boss Man is the classic entrepreneur. He is not afraid to take risks and he is always pushing us forward. I call him The Big Idea Guy because he’s constantly coming up with new things to try and new angles to pursue. One of the main reasons the company has grown so much is that he never stops thinking ahead to what is next and pushes endlessly for us to do more.

Big Idea Guy has absolutely no understanding of how much work goes into executing his Big Ideas. We just created a beautiful new marketing piece – twenty pages of gorgeous pictures using our product along with all the calculations and pricing needed for our distributors to easily sell them. A week after we first talked about doing it, he was wondering why it wasn’t done yet. I said, “Are you crazy?! Do you have any idea how much work this is?”

We work well together. I have no problem smacking him back into reality and he’ll take a step back and let us do what needs to get done.

So first thing on a Monday morning, Enthusiastic Sales Guy and The Big Idea Guy are sitting around the table. I have only a few sips of my large coffee in my belly and the caffeine has not had too much of a chance to start flowing to my brain. Enthusiastic Sales Guy starts his report about what he has recently heard from our customers on his visits. Can we do this? How about we start that? Can we send some of those to all four hundred customers?

Big Idea Guy has a list of his own. We need to do this and that. Can we change those? Oh, and here’s a whole brand new thing that we need to do immediately.

And that’s when it hits me.

Why am I here?

How did I get here?

Does any of this really matter?

So much busyness. So much energy expended. So much of my own energy and internal resources used up... spent... depleted...

And for what? So we can try to sell more stuff that nobody really needs? Stuff that doesn't add a bit of authentic meaning or true fulfillment to a single person's life?

Oy.

I sip my coffee, take notes and plot my escape.

Mädchen im Romanischen Café (Berlin) 1911 by Lesser Ury

I was wrong

Here we go. Again with the octuplets.

I was wrong. It wasn't about religion at all. It was clearly a case of medical negligence or incompetence combined with mental illness.

Any medical professionals who were involved in implanting eight embryos into a 33-year-old woman who had successfully carried six children in five previous pregnancies should have their licenses revoked. It is not a matter of how many children she already had. It is the fact that it is a reckless, improper and dangerous act to do with a healthy woman of her age. It is completely against all standards of care established in that field.

If this were a Law and Order episode, Jack McCoy would definitely prosecute the responsible doctors for Attempted Murder using the "depraved indifference" argument that they love to toss around on that show. Good ol' Jack wouldn't let anyone get away with this kind of nonsense. Where is our real life Jack McCoy?

As for the mental health of the mother. (Sigh) What is there to say?

She says herself, "I just longed for certain connections and attachments with another person that I really lacked, I believe, growing up.” When asked what she felt that she lacked, her answer was, "Feeling of self and identity.”

Okay, so she has one child, two children, three children.

Hmmmm...am I feeling the connections that I long for? Not yet? Okay, maybe more babies will help.

She has four children, five and six children.

Still not quite feeling that sense of self? Let's just go for one more baby. Maybe that will do it.

There are just so many things wrong with this. However, she is not the only person in the world to ever have made a decision to have children for reasons that could be considered less than healthy. People have children for crappy reasons all the time. She just went a little too far - no, a lot too far and now her derangement is out there for all to see.

I will say that she seems to be out of touch with reality. She says she wants to go back to school in the fall and that once she is done with her schooling, she will be able to afford her fourteen children. She just had eight severely premature babies and she thinks she will be able to go back to school in six months?

One of her children weighed 1 pound 8 ounces at birth. Woman, wake up! Lift up your left boob. Your left boob weighs more than your human child. Does that fact sink in at all? Does the reality of seeing your eight new babies hooked up to IV's and breathing tubes and feeding tubes and monitors and incubators give you even a subtle hint as to what is in store for you in the near future?

But then again, we do not know the whole story. Maybe she does have sufficient financial means and enough sustained support from committed family and friends to do what she says she wants to do. Maybe she is not delusional, but simply a high achiever with big dreams and the gumption and determination to make them happen! Maybe we are just being judgemental and negative. Maybe WE are the crazy ones!


Octuplet mom defends her "unconventional" choices

Octuplet backlash: From celebration to boos

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Perspective

If this is the first face you see
in the morning...

...you know it is going to be a good day.

Unless, of course, this is you:

Then your perspective is a bit different.

Superstar!

Today the Starbucks lady gave me a star. Or I should say girl. I'm old now and she was a tiny, little young thing - so I get to say girl.

Today the Starbucks girl gave me a star.


I don't know what I did to deserve a star. I haven't gotten one since elementary school. I used to get LOTS of them. But then you grow up and they stop giving them to you. It just doesn't seem right.