All I've Got

Now that my mornings are free, having been returned to me as a promise of investment, it seems as if I were getting less done than ever before. It's as if the domesticated areas of my life that have been neglected for so long due to school work have, through my neglect, grown wild and untamable without my attention. Now that I have attention to pay them, they are strangling me in a carnivorous and cannibalistic attempt to be moved to the front of my day, top of my list, and consume my time.
I began to carry a notebook around for two days, documenting every action, errand, and task completed in intervals divisible by five, and five only.

6:30-7:00am - Attempt to get out of bed
7:00-7:40am - Get kids ready for school
7:40-8:15am - Drop kids off at school
8:20-8:40am - Walk Daisy
8:45-8:50am - Laundry


I thought this was a great idea to hold myself accountable for how I used my time, see where I really spent most of my energy, and look for ways to cut inefficient uses of time (such as blogging) to get more done in a day. That is, until I began noticing that there were 5 minute increments missing throughout my day.
For example, look at the list and tell me what happened between coming home from dropping the kids off at school and leaving to go for a walk? And what was I doing between getting home from walking the dog and starting my laundry? Where do these invisible, undocumented increments of time go; these minutes that seem to be disappearing before they are even spent? This bothered me so much, that the following day I took even more care to document, to the minute, where I was losing my time (or maybe, my mind).
The discrepancy was even more horrendously apparent than I thought.
And I can come to only one very important conclusion: that you'd have to be farking crazy to document how you spent every minute of your day and that it was in my best interest to stop right. now. before I started concerning someone. Including myself. It's bad enough to know David has to deal with me on a day to day basis, which he does so patiently and lovingly, that I couldn't bear the thought of making him think I was even more crazier than he already knows I am.
That being said, it's taken 27 minutes to write this entry.

Outside my window:

i can hear the wind begin to awaken and play outside the way it did so recklessly yesterday, and little drops of water are pouncing to the ground.



I am listening to:

Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Raising Sand



I am wearing:

Barefoot in a pair of boot cut jeans and form fitting black T.



I am thankful for:

The quiet the house is currently experiencing. Two children at school, the other amusing herself, equals a mommy enjoying the peace.



I am pondering:

The words of MLK: "True altruism is more than the capacity to pity; it is the capacity to sympathize. Pity may represent little more than the impersonal concern which prompts the mailing of a check, but true sympathy is the personal concern which demands the giving of one's soul."



I am reading:

or re-reading I should say, Outlander. Nana bought me the whole series for Christmas, minus the 7th book that just came out in hardback. Of course I was so excited I ran out and bought it, only to hide it from myself until i reread the entire series.



From the kitchen:

Trying Shephard's pie tonight. It's a new recipe from my Clean Eating magazine (which I LOVE.) The awesomeness of that is I wouldn't need to go to the store.



I am thinking:

that I am very frustated Blogger let's me Cut, but not paste! I just lost a whole segment of my post! and that maybe i should close my living room window now that the wind is blowing rain sideways.



I am creating:

a music video for Svetlana and Bibi. It was a Christmas present, really. They understand that it will be late.



On my ipod:

The same thing that I was just listening to. Duh.



Towards a Real Education:

Always trying to improve my grade in the crach course of parenting. Determined that William is a Hyper-Sensitive child, which doesn't get a lot of attention compared to autism or asperger's, but definately requires special handling techniques. Jumped into the library's parenting section for help on dealing with him. Also reading up on sibling conflict, tattling, and rivalry. We need help!



Toward rhythm and beauty:

hmm. maybe my life is offbeat and ugly, but I can't think of anything that would qualify to go here, lol.



To live the Gospel:

rededicating myself to reading spiritually fulfilling works at least 10 mn a day



I am hoping and praying:

for my mother to have peace, now that Greg has passed.



In the garden:

planning for spring! David is making me a raised bed garden. Oh, how i've wanted a raised bed garden! Lots of ideas to throw down on paper. It's going to be so much fun.



Around the house:

rejoicing in the beauty and simplicity of a clean house! (downstairs at least)



On keeping home:

refocusing my kitchen on clean eating. Last night our plates were 1/4 protein (baked chicken), 1/4 grain (rice), and 1/2 vegetables (broccoli and succotash). The perfect formula!



One of my favorite things:

down time



A few plans for the rest of the week:

Costco, commissary, return shoes to payless, spend birthday money, return Old Navy shirt, develop photos at Target, buy Ali-gator a birthday present.



A picture thought I'm sharing:

I want me some of this weather back!

Can it really be another year? I don't think I'm quite ready for this. Since I don't know what to be ready for, I'm sure it really doesn't matter. I begin each year with a sense of anticipation, as if this is the year that "will be it." What it is, I never really discover. Somehow I sense it represents the full realization of my potential; the year I "get it", the year I "do it", the year that "it" occurs. As each year passes I become more and more convinced that waiting for some thing to happen is a ridiculous way to live a life - as if life were living me, instead of the other way around. This is the year, the month, the day, and the moment that I actively live my life - with intent, full of purpose, carrying grace in my pocket, a smile on my face, and a prayer in my heart.
Happy New Year. Happy New Day.

"The will of God will never take you where the grace of God cannot keep you..."

Oh, how time passes us so quickly without permission or recognition. It seems as if the months have piled up above my head and have left me lost in a landslide of days and weeks that are scattered carelessly about. I am easily distracted and ask your forgiveness for allowing myself to be so inaccessible and unresponsive. In other words, sorry for taking so long to respond to you and write back. My intentions have always been to let you know that we are happy, healthy, and doing well, but life so easily diverts my attention to another matter that is inevitably seemingly more pressing, more urgent, or more necessary. (Not that it always is, just that that is how it seems.)

To catch you up with California happenings, I would most likely begin with the health and decline of my step-father Greg, who is dying of cancer. He’s been fighting colon cancer for the last seven years, so his condition is not surprising, simply sad. Unable to continue with chemotherapy, the cancer quickly spread from his colon to liver, lungs, and now brain. My mother and sister, who had been living in San Diego, have temporarily moved up to Los Angeles to care for him until his death, which is likely to occur within the next few weeks. Perhaps he might have the wherewithal to hold on until after the holidays, so as not to leave the association of death and holidays so easily transmutable into unpleasant feelings and memories.

Just this last weekend, we went to visit him in his home. Opening the door to his room, he lay deflated against his pillows, his ashen face marked only by dark circles that looked like bruises beneath both eyes. With barely enough strength to sit up, I lean forward to kiss his forehead and greet him hello. He reaches up his arm and hooks it around my neck, breathlessly whispering into my ear, “I love you.” It made me uncomfortable to hear him greet me like that, because his “hello” really meant “goodbye.” Twenty minutes when my mother asked if Gregory and Ashley (my brother and sister) could come in to talk to him, he asked, “Who are they? Do I know them?”

Brain cancer is a funny thing. The brain is such a delicate tissue, the slightest increase in intracranial pressure or abnormal growth within certain areas of the brain can cause a drastic array of symptoms, among which he has experienced: severe migraines, blurred vision, periodic blindness, memory loss, inability to recall the names of people or things, dizziness, loss of balance, generalized weakness, bizarre speech pattern, and the list goes on. Seemingly on the verge of dying, my mother called hospice care who came in to assess his condition and swift deterioration and determined that a particular steroid may help reduce swelling and alleviate the symptoms that had so swiftly swept over him. To everyone’s shock and relief, the steroids improved his condition enough for him to be able to leave his bed and shuffle around the house, albeit for short periods of time. He is not always coherent, (seeing as how he asked my mother, “If I die in the jewelry box, will you bury me with my rings?”), but to compare him to how he looked just a few days ago, you would never have guessed that he was practically on his death bed. For that, I suppose we ought to be grateful, but some small part of me wonders if it is right to prolong the inevitable. Today, as my mother was administering his pain meds, he accused her of trying to kill him. We are now adding paranoia and severe agitation to the list of symptoms. The nurse said the tumor is causing some sort of brain psychosis and doctor has added Haldol to his list of drugs, which also include, but are not limited to: Morphine, Ativan, Oxycontin, and Ambien that he takes each day/night to help manage pain and help him sleep.

Death brings perspective, and with perspective comes reflection; reflection brings insight, and insight moves the heart. Once the heart is moved, we can never be the same - and this is what I'm learning.