Zen


Teachers are allotted only a window of time with their students.  Once the student has exhausted this learning period; the teacher’s responsibility ends and the student must go on.  The student must accept this ending and may only bow in respect to the teacher, for the opportunity to learn has now passed.  It is now the student’s time; not to mourn the absence of the teacher, but to continue the quest for knowledge.

 

 

Only with a closed mouth and open mind will a student see the multitude of offer for infinite challenge and opportunity on the road to enlightenment.  Any valid word from a student to a teacher shall be but a question posed when the time is offered for such.  Fussing over disagreement or materialism will only slow the journey, and our time is short.

 

 

The most important rule is recognition that you are but a student.  Worry not.  Close your mouth.  Open your mind.  Work diligently.  Be peaceful.  For all the while in being a disciplined student, you’ve become a teacher.

 

 

~padinkydink



anger. it’s only one letter away from DANGER.


I never use this blog anymore.  I spend a lot of time angry at myself as a result of that.  I actually spend a lot of my time just plain angry.  I’ve said it a million times before, people like the funny girl when she is witty and funny, notsomuch when she is pissed off or talking about real shit.  Here it goes anyway.

 

I am pissed off about so many things I might not be able to fit it all in one blog.  I guess I can do an ‘angry’ series.  Whatever.

 

Where do I start?  How about my anger toward this world I am trying to raise my children in.  Yesterday I picked my kindergartner up from school and she told me about the drill they had earlier that day.  It wasn’t a fire drill or a tornado drill.  It was an intruder drill.  What is an intruder drill you ask?  It’s where all the kids ‘pretend’ there is a bad guy in their school (the place where they are supposed to feel safe) and he wants to hurt them, so all they have to do is hide and be very quiet so he doesn’t know where they are.  They were told to sit very still and huddle together in the corner while a man walked through the building and beat on every classroom door and tried to get in.  As she was telling me about this drill, I was fighting back two things:  1. Tears  2. Rage.  I elaborated on what they had already told her by telling her she should try to find a really small place where she could tuck herself away and not be seen.  I also told her that if a bad guy came to her school, she might hear other sounds besides him knocking on the door.  I told her it might sound like fireworks like the 4th of July and there might be more than one bad guy, and no matter what kind of scary sounds she hears, she can’t cry or make any sounds.  She didn’t bat an eye when I said these things to her.  Is she that desensitized at the tender age of 5 1/2?  Apparently.  Did I do that to her?  Maybe a little.  I think it could also be the fact that every time we turn on the news in the morning there’s more shootings or robberies or some kind of standoff.  My big kids have an ‘intruder’ strategy as well.  It’s gruesome, but they will just lie in another kid’s blood and play dead.  I can’t believe I just typed that, but it’s the truth.  I am angry that I have to have these types of conversations with my kids.  I do not understand evil, which I guess is a good thing, because ‘it takes one to know one.’

 

I remember April 20, 1999 like it was yesterday.  I was sitting at home, 9 months pregnant with my first child when the horrific massacre took place at Columbine High School.  It was then that I first started to wonder if maybe it was a selfish idea for me to bring children into this world.  So to make myself look like a fool for having just made that statement…my oldest daughter was born in February 2001; when she was seven months old, on September 11, 2001; our country endured the most deadly attack in history.  Violence begets violence, so it has really all just gone on and on since then.  This past month the world watched while news reporters covered the story of an 18-year old kid who was shot in Ferguson, MO.  That’s 30 miles from our home.  As if that wasn’t enough, the only story on EVERY SINGLE CHANNEL was how an angry mob would wait like cockroaches to come out at night and steal and ruin everything in that city.  It was race-driven too, so there was an irrational (but kind of legit) fear that they would start to spread out and attack in unsuspecting predominantly white neighborhoods.  Robbing stores, stealing rims and hair weaves, throwing Molotov cocktails at police, shooting guns and behaving like wild animals.  Why?  All supposedly a part of ‘peaceful protest’ in the name of the man who was gunned down.  What a crock of shit.

 

The United States feels like a world where people can’t let go of anguish or suffering.  People of every ethnicity feel entitled to things because they are bred to feel that way.  Does your back hurt?  You are entitled to disability pay from our government.  Did you have too many babies?  You need free money for that.  Were your ancestors oppressed?  Then line up!  We have money for that!  What is this place?  When did everyone feel like they could just tell you they are entitled to something?  What happened to people just doing nice things because it’s the right thing to do?  Karma is real, everyone.  I don’t care what religion you are or aren’t.  Basically every single philosophy tells you the same story.  It’s not a theory, it’s truth.  You get out of this life what you put into it.  Which is why I am not rich and famous.  I am lazy.  I get distracted easily.  Lately I find myself sitting on the couch every night staring at my phone on some social media website like some kind of fucking zombie while my kids do the same thing.  I am part of the problem.  Can I get a check every month for that?  Ha!

 

I guess there really isn’t a point to this.  I just have to let off a little steam once in a while so that I can sleep at night.  I have problems, but someone else has bigger problems.  I want to be a person who can not only endure my own drama, but also be helpful to friends when they need me.  Lately though, I’m not in the mood.  The LAST thing I need on a very long list of shit is to get a phone call from someone who needs to ‘cry it out’ or have me cheer them up.  I walk around pissed like 97% of the time.  There are other factors at play, but at the risk of losing the livelihood that keeps those phones in my kids’ hands I will refrain.  I literally just typed it all out and then deleted every word.

 

Sorry I didn’t make you laugh, so I will share something with you that will LITERALLY get me through the day tomorrow.

 

Today as we were driving along, my 5-year-old saw a limousine, probably the first one she has seen in ‘real life’ and she said, “Wow!  Is that one of those things that takes the beautiful people to the shows?”

“Yes, it is.”

 

I love that kid.

 

I feel the inclination to apologize for my rant, but I am not sorry.  You have a choice when you read, thank you for choosing Padinkydink.

 

Peace.



Coolest Mom Ever


If you know me on a personal level, you know I am a bit goofy and somewhat immature for my age.  Here’s the thing; I am pretty sure I was born this way.  Lady Gaga is cool with it.  I thought I was cool with it…but turns out my teenage kids might not be cool with it.  I act a fool all the time, being silly in the car, singing and dancing along with songs, making up lyrics to popular songs, you know, stuff I have done for my entire life.  Turns out my kids are cool with this unless they have friends around, and in that scenario; I am only supposed to be their chauffeur.  You know, the lamesauce dude who wears their standard-issue black suit and lame hat and is paid to (well I guess that dude gets paid, but I don’t) drive the ingrates around and purchase food and beverage for them in silence.

 

In T-2 hours from now, much to the chagrin of my 13-year-old daughter, I will be chaperoning her field trip to the Science Center.  I will be held responsible for my kid plus 3 more kids.  I am certain I will speak aloud during this excursion and definitely mortify my daughter beyond social recognition.  I am contemplating wearing some 90’s getup, like maybe a pair of overalls with one side unfastened, a sideways neon hat that says ‘Word to Yo Momma’ and some neon Chuck T’s.  Of course I will also pack her a nutritious lunch of PB&J (I almost spelled out peanut butter and jelly, but it’s cooler if I abbreviate I think) and some whole milk with a CRAAAAZY STRAAAW!!!  What What!!!  But since I am sooo cool I will also bring along a mix tape of some def, funky fresh tunes featuring the vocal stylings of Ratt, Twisted Sister, and probably the ever-so-popular Will Mother Fkn Smith!!!  Of course I will be blasting all of this from my heavy ass (on the shoulder) boom box!!!  Yeah Yeah.  I think I might also paint my eyelids to look like they are actual eyeballs so that in case the (lame) Science Center (lame) exhibits are LAMESAUCE, I can fall asleep and the teacher’s won’t notice!!  Ha Ha!!  Yeah!!  And I will make sure to have all 4 of the girls I’m charged with (Madi and her 3 close friends) high (and LOW) five me ALL DAY LONG!  Today is going to be the BEST. FIELD. TRIP. EVER!!!!!

 

Seriously though I will probably wear jeans and something beige so that Madi won’t even notice me.  That way she won’t be so mortified that I am there.  When do they turn into such dicks?  My kids used to find my chicanery and tomfoolery to be quite entertaining and fun, but then these crazy kids turned into complete asshats and now all of a sudden I am such an embarrassment, but I am NOT too embarrassing to entertain every whim they might have or to drive them to the mall or Starbucks or buy them junk food and a shit ton of expensive clothes and shoes.  In the moments when we are headed to the cash register I am still the best mom ever.  I guess this is one of those Darius Rucker song things…you know, ‘It Won’t be Like This for Long’…maybe?

 

Well, seems like it’s about time for me to go shower up and get my ecru personality and outfit together for the field trip today.  Have a bland day everyone!

Peace out Homies,

Word up.



No Sleep ’til Brooklyn


 

Actually I am not going to Brooklyn, I just can’t sleep again.  I haven’t written (again) in forever (again) and it’s not like I have a whole lot to bring to the table, but here goes anyway. 

 

This is in no way a plea for anything; I just have to let it out of my brain.  I’ve been sick.  I have Sjögren’s Syndrome, and it’s an autoimmune disease.  Do you think I have AIDS when I say that?  It feels like I am saying I do.  I don’t.  I didn’t catch it, I just have it.  As it turns out there is nothing on earth I could have ever done to prevent having it, and looking back at things…I have had it my entire life.  My body fights itself and my ability to fight infections.  I have had e.coli, giardia (twice) and all sorts of  other fun.

 

So I recently had a little stay-cation at Chez Mercy Hospital.  It was a totally spontaneous vacation (the best ones always are, aren’t they??) My stay was packed with four luxurious nights of broth and jell-o, and an exquisite blend of saline and dextrose at my fingertips.  Actually the IV was in my right arm, then they moved it to my left hand, then it was in the back of my right arm again.  It was all part of the mystifying fun and adventure.  My favorite part of the adventure was leaving there not knowing exactly what is wrong with me.  We have determined it’s either some form of colitis or Crohn’s Disease.  Can you stand the excitement!??  Me either.  I can hardly wait to book my next excursion…another colonoscopy!!  TMI??  Yep.  Thought so.

 

Unfortunately I am no stranger to the hospital, so that part’s not a big deal.  It sucked being there and I am in no hurry to go back, but what sticks with me is the remaining fact that these autoimmune diseases don’t like to be lonely.  They are like Ruffles…you can’t just have one.  And the more you have, the more susceptible you are to have even more health problems.  I didn’t know that, it was not in the brochure.  This whole recent experience has really changed my perspective on life.  I have felt physical pain a lot.  I have had 3 babies (which was cake by the way, compared to this), and I have daily random pain.  This pain, this time…it was different.  I have been thinking about things differently now.  I am a little more patient, (when I am not freaking out and crying for no reason) and I am spending more time with my kids. I have been telling them things they will need to know just in case I am not here when it’s time to learn them.  I know I will probably not live to be an old lady.  That stings a little.  Ok a lot.

 


I am trying to let go of any drama I may have in my life.  I am trying to savor moments more.  I am living like I am dying.  Even though I am not dying, well, we all are dying each day, but I don’t have a death sentence with a time stamp on the end.  I just have to watch out for things more closely than I did before.  I don’t know why I am typing this, it’s really more personal information than I care to share with people but sometimes my cup of whatever this is runneth over, and when it keeps me awake, I share it with both of you who read this shit.  (Yeah, like there are two of you!)

 

I guess if there is a point to any of this, it’s that I am loving my kids more than ever, and my husband too, even though I think he thinks none of this is real, and I could cure myself if I would just take my vitamins and drink more water.  Gotta love him.  He certainly loves me.  I never imagined in my whole life that I would have a husband that would prove he meant it when he said “In good times and bad, and in sickness and health”, but I got him.  He is wonderful and so patient and kind.  There is nothing on earth he wouldn’t do to make me feel better.  That’s the truth.

 

I also have to brag about my daughter for a second.  I was at the grocery store on Saturday with her and her friend who was sleeping over.  They asked if they could walk around instead of buying groceries with me, so of course I said yes. We were at Wal-Mart and I wasn’t about to pass up the chance to have them get some good ‘People of Wal-Mart’ pictures.  I grabbed all the stuff from the list, and a couple extra things for them to snack on, and I was in the checkout aisle when it happened.  I started to get hot like I was going to pass out.  I texted Madi to tell her I was in checkout lane 6.  Thankfully she got there quickly.  I needed to sit down but I knew that if I did they would probably call an ambulance and I really don’t feel like paying $500 for a ride to the hospital again, or making a scene at the Wal-Marts.  So I handed Madi my debit card and said, “You are going to have to do this.  I feel sick.”  I went to the car and pulled it up close to the door outside and she and her friend loaded all the stuff onto the belt, then paid for the groceries and brought them out to the car.  She is 12.  She has a mom who is sick.  I hate that for her.  She has seen her mom in the hospital on a few occasions.  She isn’t afraid of me.  She crawls right into the bed with me and is asleep and drooling within minutes.  My little bitty (my 4 year old) is afraid of me when I am sick.  She doesn’t understand it.  When I came home from the hospital this time, she didn’t want me to help her take a bath, to lie in bed with her, to read to her…she wanted her daddy.  That broke my heart.  I have been talking with her about it and now  she has eased me back into her little world.  She and I are peas and carrots again.  Tonight when I was lying in bed with her, I said “I have to go to my bed now, baby, I don’t feel well.”  She replied, “Mommy, go drink some of your hosipal (hospital) water.  It will make you feel better.”  Then she sang ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ to me.  My girls seem to be little mommies, they definitely have the nurturing thing down.  My son is casually indifferent but I can tell it bothers him.  I don’t know what to say to him, he is 14.  I love him so very much, I still see that chubby little blonde baby every time I look at him, even though he is in high school now.  What do you say to your kid when they want to know why you can’t do the things other moms can do?

 

I am literally worth nothing without my family.  They keep me going.  They make me swallow the stupid pills that put my disease to sleep.  They give me the strength to get poked by a zillion needles and have gallons of blood drawn (did I mention I loathe needles and pass out at the sight of blood?), and to lie inside loud banging machines to find out what’s wrong with my guts and what I can do to stick around and get better.  I truly never feel alone.  I feel happy and safe here in this house with them all around me.  I am so very sorry for whatever I did in this life or any past lives to bring this annoying nonsense here to them and myself, but I must have also done something good because they are here with me, and I love them more with each moment.  This, along with every other silly thing I write makes no sense, but it’s gotta go.  I can’t keep almost crying at my desk at work.  I can’t keep staying awake.  I have to let it out.  Done.  Now, one foot in front of the other…

 

Love, Peace…

Padinkydink

 



Balance


It’s August again. It’s looking like the end of summer (though my husband is trying in desperate futility to fight it) the sun is going down a bit earlier, the days are steadily getting cooler, and it’s time to start thinking about wearing a jacket in the evening. Before we know it, the leaves will change again and a winter will be upon us. After that, a fresh new spring and then it will be summer again. It all works out, the end of one sparks the beginning of the next and so on…

(Gee thanks for the science lesson on the seasons Captain Obvious)

The end of seasons are bittersweet. I enjoy the transition of fall, but I can’t help but feel a looming sadness for the end of another summer because it means my children are growing up. If you are a parent you must understand that there is a delicate balance to raising children. I believe if you are raising your children correctly, your goal is to have them eventually be independent, yet still need you…but not too much. I try to mix the motherly advice with chicanery and tomfoolery just to keep things even. I have three brilliant children who are all growing up too quickly, it’s a lot like the end of summer and beginning of fall. I am trying to fight it, but they are staying up a bit later, growing a bit taller, and they don’t want me to hand them a jacket as they walk out the door…it’s not cool. Before I know it, they will be another grade level higher in school, they will continue to grow up…and then another year will have gone by and they will be one year closer to graduation. Being one year closer to graduation of course means needing less of their mom, and a growing intolerance of my goofy ass. I guess at some point I should probably look into growing up too…I hear it’s nice.

I worry senselessly about so many things and as I told my sweet father-in-law after his diagnosis with cancer before we lost him nearly two years ago…(miss you Pop…) “Worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair…it will keep you busy, but you won’t get anywhere.” Ever notice how easy it is to give advice, but so hard to actually take it? I also drew a picture of boobs on the dry erase board in his hospital room. See?? Balance.

This is just another transition and we will survive it. I will create new wonderful memories with my growing children and still show them how to be independent, but I will remain hopeful they will always still need me, whether I am being serious or silly.

Thanks for reading my late night ramblings.