THANKSGIVING OR FOODGIVING?

I am such an awesome hostess at holidays! Everyone gets wonderful pressure-foam mattresses and pads. I cover these with soft sheets, blankets and bedspreads, all matching each other and the room they are in. Even the dogs get royal coordinated beds. This is because I’m secretly hoping everyone will just stay in their beds. Maybe then they won’t notice that I haven’t cooked anything.

What is it about food and holidays? The food served takes on a meaning all its own, and each person adds his or her own meanings to this. What’s feasting for one is suffering for another. This applies to broccoli, green beans, sweet potatoes, and especially turkey and dressing in our family. There are those who want the sweet potato marshmallow casserole. There are those who want it made with less sugar, for health. Some just want their sweet potato baked. Some want little sweet potato circles with a thick covering of brown sugar and land-o-lakes. Some don’t like sweet potatoes and request regular baked potatoes.

On to the dressing or should I say stuffing or shouldn’t I? Some want oysters in the stuffing. Some are horrified at the thought! Most want turkey but some won’t eat a turkey because “that would be murder.” There has to be a Tofu turkey for them. Some want the dressing in a casserole dish. Others want it stuffed right into the murdered turkey, mixed with onions and celery and seasonings. I get some requests for dressing made with corn bread and others for dressing made with day old toast, “like mother used to make.” (She probably did this so as not to waste her old bread.)

I am truly thankful for my wonderful family. I love being with them, especially during times when we are all sitting around laughing. When we laugh together at how crazy our lives have been, it seems more bearable when we experience our struggles. But why do we have to make such a production of eating? And why is food so connected with love and nurture with already grown up people? Each person knows exactly what he or she likes to eat. Why not bag lunch and enjoy the time together, no dish washing involved?

Food has always been an issue for me. I quit cooking about the time my youngest child became old enough to use the microwave. My mother didn’t like cooking either. We all know that everything is our mother’s fault right? I cook twice a week for the dog because he doesn’t know how to use the microwave and our vet said to give him meat and veggies. He only likes salt and butter on his food, so I never have to worry about him gagging over his dog bowl in disgust. As for crowd pleasing cooking, seasoned to perfection, I formally resign from any future attempts. Girls, thanks for all your help this year. There will be even more to thank you for after our next holiday together. Row

TO MEMBERS OF THE CCCC: Clueless Confidence Crusher Club

ARE ALL PARENTS C.C.C.s?(Clueless Confidence Crushers)I have often cringed in judgment as I watched an unloving disciplinary approach with children. I am NOT saying that I don’t believe in discipline, just that a child’s spirit should be protected as a top priority.

A child should always feel loved and special. That being said, just this morning I was reading my oldest daughter’s blog. She said and I quote:

“This boils down to wanting to be recognized as something special. Growing up, I didn't feel special in the eyes of my parents. I think this has led to my looking for that affirmation in others. As a teenager I looked for it in my relationships with guys.”

Well now, I don’t think I get a gold star do I? What’s important to say here though is that I was truly clueless about my daughter’s feelings. Ginny was amazing from the day she was born. My greatest bragging material has come from simply being her mom. She was truly brilliant and funny and inventive. I loved her beyond reason. I still stand amazed in her presence and I adore her.

Ginny preferred reading encyclopedias to children’s’ books at a very early age. She read her whole set of children’s encyclopedias more than once. She was rearranging the furniture in her room before she could see over the top of her bed. Perhaps she was too much my little genius pal and not enough my carefully nurtured daughter. She just seemed to know everything and not need me for much. Where did I go wrong?

I used to dance around the room with Ginny singing “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.” She went every where with me and I bragged to everyone about her. As she got older, her status quo was almost perfection in school. Maybe I just expected it because she always did it, and I didn’t praise her enough. Maybe I criticized? The point is that I don’t know. What ever it was, the bottom line is that my precious daughter didn't feel special. How did I screw up so royally? It is too bad that we don’t get do-overs in parenting. For me, I would have to go back and get a complete life-over.

I got married when I was 21, three months from college graduation. I got married because I thought I had to get married. I had sinned in God’s eyes and was trying to fix it by marrying the guy I sinned with. God, to me, was the one with the big mallet. I didn’t want to get pounded so I tried hard to toe the line. Well, I didn’t even look my future husband in the eyes when I recited my wedding vows. I was horrified. Before the ceremony, I told a close cousin that I wanted to back out. She said she thought it was probably the wedding jitters and that she had prayed about it and felt good. So, I walked down that aisle, tears in my eyes, and said my vows looking straight into the eyes of my brother in law, the pastor. (Hey, I wonder if that makes me really married to my brother in law??)

Our five year long marriage was difficult. My husband was dealing with the stress of medical school, a wife who didn’t love him, and then came two kids. In the year he was made chief resident in internal medicine, one of his interns caught his eye. Or should I say, caught his heart. I don’t suppose he had felt loved our whole marriage. I’ll never know really. He left me and our two daughters when Ginny was three. I still remember her saying, “Daddy, please don’t leave.” By that time, I really did love my husband, but I was too proud to say it. So I scooped up my little girls in my arms and I watched him walk away. Then I cried for days and weeks and months.

I got into that marriage recklessly and I got out of it the same way. And I appealed to my self-created God to fix everything. I didn't know how to love my husband the way he needed to be loved. My understanding of God did not include the concept of GRACE. I had to work to remain in good standing with Him. People were "good" if they tried real hard. People were "bad" if they screwed up. The only thing I knew how to do was to condemn my former husband for being in the "bad" category.

Unfortunately, even if I had understood grace, there was my pride and my maturity level. Either probably would would have excluded my "fallen husband" from my list of receivers of grace. But I regret that my girls didn't learn about God's grace through observing it in my life. I said a lot of "spiritual" stuff to them and recited a lot of Bible verses. What the girls observed was an injured and angry mom who felt rejected and abandoned to circumstance. They grew up watching their mother try to become acceptable enough to be loved.

Ginny, Abby, and Angela, I am so proud, not only of whom you’ve all come to be, but of whom you’ve always been at heart level. You are all three beautiful, both inside and out. Please forgive my failure to nurture your self esteem the way God intended. I adore each of you, Mom

WATCHING NORA WORK: I Learned to do this when we were little and mother said we had to wash the dishes

ONE WORKING....ONE WATCHING...AND ONE BORED BEYOND REASON

The Reckless Thinking Cycle: Justifying vs. Analyzing

My sister Nora came over a few times to plan a business with me. (I thinks she is trying to pull me out of my midlife depression. What she says is that she wants us to teach seminars together.... on strategic thinking.--I'm giggling.) I would be happy to get on stage in front of a lot of people. Maybe I could dance or sing poorly like that bad karaoke in MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING. But…..strategic thinking!!?? How can I teach something I’ve never done?

Strategic thinking seems like something you do to make an outcome more predictable. How much fun is that? Nora said, "Row, let's analyze some of your more reckless decisions and look at ways you could have handled them differently.” One day I said "ok" and we looked at a former vacation of mine to Destin. Several of my family members and my buddy Caroline went on a guided tour, snorkeling here and there along the gulf coast. One of our stops was the jetties, where one often finds an interesting array of fish.

Our guide said something about not swimming out past the jetties. I don't remember him telling us why. Let me tell you something. It was seriously BORING swimming around in that shallow water with all of those boat sitters! So, when the guide wasn't looking and my husband was otherwise occupied, I headed out for deep water.

The deep was awesome and beautiful, so much better that the rocks, reeds, and minnows of the shallow. Well, it was awesome until I realized that it was time to go and I was in trouble. Caught in a strong undercurrent, I was giving it all I had and going nowhere. I panicked and forgot the rules of swimming with the current. I kicked and splashed and fought it with all of my strength.

A fisherman noticed my plight about the time I was ready to give up. He dove in and attempted a rescue. Then the current was too much for both of us. Another man joined and we eventually made it back to shore. Here is how Nora mapped this out for me: (She said I was using a process called the cycle of reckless thinking. I told her that I call it “life.”)

Information: I was out on a guided tour and the guide said not to swim past the jetties.

Interpretation: From past experience, I interpreted this as "The fun must be in the deep water since the guide said not to go there."

Snap Decision: I decided that if I got the opportunity, I'd go for it.

Impulsive Action: Without a further thought, I headed for the "deep end" of the “pool.”

Consequences: The undertow wore me down. When I panicked and started to drown, two other people took risks to rescue me. The boat had to wait for me so a lot of other people suffered because of what I did. For me, the consequence was that I satisfied my thrill factor at others' expense.

Justification: Since I didn't consider possible outcomes before acting, I made up some believable reasons why I did what I did.

The true reason was simple. My thrill factor is quite high. Swimming around in shallow uninteresting water right next to the real thing was just too much to ask of me. Actually, if I had it to do over, I would drive a stake into the ground and take a rope with me. I’m just not wired to kick around in a foot of water.

Nora and I are only 20 months apart in age and raised by the same parents. Yet, we handle our lives quite differently. I think that many of our differences may be based on the fact that Nora always had me to look out for and I always had Nora nearby for a quick rescue. Unfortunately, my participation in our business development has halted. I lasted about two weeks. Then, all of that business talk started feeling like paddling around in the shallow water. Nora gets paid mega bucks for stuff like that. It sucks the life out of me. I told her I might be able to do it if we stuck some "Rosana Rosanadana" stuff in there to liven it up and if I could wear costumes and make faces while we teaching those stiff suited business people.

My six year old grandson (with Aspergers syndrome) is so funny, and so very precious. He tells people that he is a scientist and that he needs scientific equipment. When other children “refuse to learn” he gets so exasperated with them. He says things like, “Mom, those kids don’t care anything about science!” Maybe I’m an adult with Aspergers. Maybe I just need stimulation…like near death experiences….to inspire me. What do you think Nora? Do you still love me? Will you still come over and play if we don’t talk about balanced score cards and increased profitability? I will always adore you. And you will forever by my Yoda.

Passively Reckless

I should have eyes on my backside because hindsight has been my primary sight up to now. I generally decide to do something right before I do it. I am also very persuasive in involving others. I think this is because I generally believe my own reasons for what I want, at least while I’m using them. This is a recipe for disaster…and I’ve had a lot of F-5s. I want to learn how to change this on one hand. Oh the other hand, I love being a free spirit.

I don’t even like planning a trip to my sister’s house in Myrtle Beach. I like for us to be on the phone and maybe she says “come over.” Then I say, “Do you mean now?” She’ll say “Anytime, whenever you want.” If I get in the car in the next few minutes, I’m on my way. Otherwise I feel controlled by my own plans and can’t do it. Even today, I have a full suitcase packed with summer clothes sitting at the top of my stairs. I was going to leave it packed so I’d be ready if the mood hit. Now, I think shorts and bathing suits would be a little sparse for the cold weather. On the other hand, being inappropriate sounds a little appealing.

I’m smiling now. It’s that evil smile I used to wear when whispering the only dirty word I knew into the microphone while my large extended family were positioned around our Grand Piano sounding like the Von Trapps in The Sound of Music. The dirty word is one that wouldn’t change a G-rating at today’s standards but it was my instrument of rebellion and I used it with vigor.

Maybe, I can’t change. I think that’s what 2 of my 3 daughters are most afraid of. The other one tiptoes through the tulips with me.

Actively Reckless
My childhood was one easily defined as “reckless.” All one had to do was count the emergency room visits and multiply by a number between 3 and 20. That would offer a fair bragging estimate of the number of stitches I received before the age of 18. I wasn’t a “wild” child. I was simply an active child who had not been introduced to the concept of forethought.

For instance, I never considered how hard it might be to walk front wards down an attic ladder. (Carrying an object which blocked my view in all downward directions) So, I fell out of my oldest sister’s attic carrying a television, which I quickly catapulted into her wall to save myself. That time there were no stitches, but the parsonage wall was more holy than ever. Then there was the skiing trip behind a bike on a skateboard. It wouldn't have been a bad idea had I let go of the rope when I fell. Falling off roofs, out of trees, and into ditches was a way of life for me and the emergency room became my second home.

Some of my reckless actions didn’t involve stitches. I’ll never forget the 11th grade Spanish Club trip to Mexico City, Cuernavaca, and Taxco. It was Taxco that got me. I had little experience with alcohol and my friend and I bought a pint of 100 proof tequila. We shared this, each drinking half. Then, feeling sticky from our unairconditioned motel room, I went to take a shower, and found myself on a bus going to the next town. I lost a whole day of that trip. I wonder what everyone did during all of the hours I slept.

In later years, the accidents made a little more sense but they kept coming. I was out skiing with some friends when the boat had some problems. I hopped from my skis to a nearby pier when the boat stopped. Spotting a trampoline not 50 feet from the pier, I had the great idea to do a little showing off. So I popped up on the trampoline, took two bounces, and without any spotters, went into a front flip. Needless to say, I traveled across the surface, landed on my knees and discovered the concept of the lever. My face ended up on the bar, split open from mouth to chin and my teeth realized their long dream of being free.

Off to college I went a few months later, lip full of stitches and no car to get around in. I had to get rides home when I wanted to visit on weekends. Do you know how hard it was for “Miss Frankenstein” to ask for rides from cute fraternity boys? Once my favorite uncle said I could borrow his car for a week while he was out of town. I was thrilled to have my own ride. However, it was during finals at school. I had been up all night prior to making the three hour drive home. I made it to within a mile of my childhood home before falling asleep at the wheel. When I awoke, I was unable to get the front door of the car open but I was unharmed enough to climb over to the back seat and get out. At this point, this elderly man (whose PARKED car I hit) came running out of his house and grabbed my arm. He called me a young whippersnapper and held on to my elbow like a vice while he called the police.Ok, so I became a little more careful after that but this was more passive than active.

Rather than inventing a purposeful way of being, I came up with a list of things I wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t get on a trampoline again. (I did try to join the Auburn sky diving team….until all the stories of mutilation scared me away.) I wouldn’t skate board. I wouldn’t drive on no sleep. I wouldn’t drink alcohol. If I did occasionally drink, I definitely wouldn’t drive. I wouldn’t be immoral on dates. The list of don’t was large. It never occurred to me that there might be a list of dos.