photo credit: Horia Varlan

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.

Walt Whitman – Leaves of Grass

One of my favorite movies, Dead Poet’s Society, is one that I think we could all learn a great deal from.  In the movie Robin Williams plays Mr. Keating, a radical impassioned English teacher who is hired to teach at a very strict conservative all boy’s school in the 1950’s.

Keating is frowned upon for his unconventional teaching as he tries to unravel the traditional ties that are binding his students preventing them from discovering their true selves, rather than following in the footsteps of their fathers as is expected.

Through the wisdom of some of the world’s greatest writers, including Whitman, Emerson and Thoreau, Keating urges his students to Carpe Diem — seize the day!

At 42 years old, I am beginning to understand the urgency with which Keating encouraged his students.  I’m more aware of time than I ever have been.  Each change that takes place in my children marks the passage of time.  I choose not to see it as another day lost, however, so much as another moment of my extraordinary life found.

I hope my boys are lucky enough to have a teacher like Mr. Keating – a teacher who understands how extraordinary this life is.  But I’m not going to leave that lesson up to the hands of fate.

I will teach my sons to follow the advice of Thoreau and “suck the marrow out of life“.

I will remind them to trust themselves as individuals in all that they do because they are amazing and the world deserves to experience them completely and without reserve.

And I will remind them to set aside some time every so often to break out of the rut that everyday life can force upon them, stand tall and proud and sound their barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world because yawping is good for the soul.

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photo credit: bclinesmith

(Meet Spongebob – the sometimes sitter)

As a mother, and as a person who attended Catholic schools I have a very guilt-ridden conscious.  Most of it is self-inflicted due to my perfectionistic tendencies.  Some is based on what I perceive to be expected of me as a wife, mother, friend, sister, daughter and all the other manifestations of Michelle that co-exist inside of me.

But as a more productive exercise in self-awareness, I thought it might be better to focus on those things that I don’t feel guilty about.

1.   My evening glass(es) of wine – I figure if my kids get to have their whine then so does Momma.  And besides the only reason I partake of the jolly juice is because it is good for me heart.  Let me just say that my heart is doing pretty well these days.

2.   Staying in the bathroom for over 30 minutes – I consider the bathroom my refuge.  I have been known to get comfortable on the rug after my very quick bath with my wine and my current read.  As far as anyone knows, I’m just soaking in the tub.  When the kids were babies, I would pretend to have stomach problems so I could escape momentarily.  Don’t judge me.

3.   Letting my kids  watch TV when I need a break – I used to fret over this one when  Jacob was younger.  I was sure it was some form of neglect to let Spongebob Squarepants be my babysitter for half an hour, but I got over that one pretty quickly.  There are simply times when I am out of give and a quick bathroom retreat isn’t enough to refuel my mom engine.  So what if my kids can recite nearly every episode by heart.  I owe a great deal of my sanity to the folks of Bikini Bottom.

4.   Having a DVD player in the car – I live about 25 minutes from my kids’ schools on a good day.  Throw in traffic, accidents, and police with speed radars and it can turn into a good 45 minutes.  Throw in a four year old and a 12 year old and it can turn into hell.   Popping in a movie keeps them both happy long enough for me to navigate my way to the drop-off points.  Thanks to the library I am often able to sneak in some really cool educational videos like Bill Nye and Popular Mechanics for Kids.  Of course, Mr. Squarepants gets a fair amount of air-time too.

5.   Letting my kids play video games – Again this is one that I was very unsure about.  When Jacob was 3 he was playing computer games like The Incredible Machine.  He graduated to video games shortly after that and I saw pretty quickly how the games we chose for him engaged his mind.  Many of the games required pretty elaborate problem solving capabilities that Jacob took to immediately.  Video games also helped him learn to read.  When a dialogue box or directions would pop up on the screen, he’d ask for my help.  I’d tell him I was busy and I’d help him when I was done.  By the time I got there he had sounded out the words and moved on in the game.

When Jacob is playing a video game, he rarely tics.  It’s a nice break for him on days when his tics are severe.

Nick is following in Jacob’s footsteps and is able to navigate the game world with ease.  And with the added benefit of Wii active games we can throw in a little exercise here and there.

What things leave you feeling guilt-free?

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In the cafeteria at Camp Twitch and Shout

We just got back from our second annual Camp Twitch and Shout Family Weekend at Camp Twin Lakes in Winder, GA.  And just like last year’s weekend this one was equally inspiring.

Over the past 6 years, I have had the fortune of meeting so many families whose lives have been touched by Tourette Syndrome.

There were several moments during camp that I had the opportunity to stand back and watch.  As the excitement filled the air, the tics were unleashed in domino fashion.  Wall pounding, clapping, stomach punching, screaming, squatting, jumping, blinking.  Of course this is only a small representation of what I saw and heard.

But if I was asked to describe in one word what I really saw it would be strength – strength in both parents and kids.

Kids with TS look like everyone else.  There are no physical markers and they are quite often highly intelligent.  As a result they are at risk of being misunderstood and mismanaged.  To the outsider TS can appear to be nothing more than bad behavior as opposed to what it really is, a neurological condition.

I have been on the receiving end of many judgmental looks from other parents.  Looks that say you are a bad mother and have no control over your child.  But what they really need to know is that my child has no control over himself.  What they really need to know is that I am a good mother who will do whatever it takes to make sure my child is treated fairly.

Can you tell who has Tourette's?

Imagine being told we aren’t really interested in a student like your daughter.

Imagine watching as your child repeatedly slams his fists into his already bruised thighs.

Imagine worrying every day about your child being bullied or made fun of.

Imagine, as a parent, choosing to let your child pound his fists into you, in order to prevent him from hurting himself.

Imagine being a teenager trying to fit in and always standing out in a crowd.

Imagine going to see a movie with the constant fear that you might be asked to leave at any time.

Imagine being told to be still or be quiet when your body won’t let you do either.

Imagine having to squat and touch the floor every fourth step.

Imagine being in a wheelchair because your tics make it difficult for you to even walk.

Now imagine a place where none of this matters.  A place where no one judges you, or laughs at you.  A place where you belong.  This is Camp Twitch and Shout.  And for parents the family weekend is a place where, despite the fact that your child is hitting you, or spiraling into a TS meltdown no one will stare or question your parenting abilities.

The best part of the weekend for many parents isn’t the canoes, or kayaks, or even the ‘Smores.  It’s sharing our stories and discovering the similarities.  Just knowing that there are other parents who have cried at night out of fear and frustration; that there are other parents who worry what the future holds for their children – just knowing this makes everything okay.

We are a family at Camp Twitch and Shout and though we are spread out all over the country, I really don’t think we could be any closer.

*Visit these helpful links for more information:
TICS of Georgia
Moxie Momma’s Tic Dock
Brad Cohen Tourette Foundation
Camp Twitch and Shout

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I was sixteen. A self-conscious, awkward girl with short hair, glasses and braces – the whole package that seemed to spell out NERD. I was always the one people spoke of with words such as, “Oh, she’s such a nice girl., or “She’s such a good friend.”. Not bad things to say about a person. But when you are just a “nice girl” no one asks you out. I felt like I didn’t belong most of the time.

I don’t remember when I made the decision, or even if I really did. It’s just something that happened. It started off simple enough. What 16-year old isn’t concerned about her weight? My meals became smaller and smaller, fewer and fewer. I explained to my mother that I had to eat at at 6pm. If dinner wasn’t ready by 6pm I wouldn’t eat anything. Lunch in the school’s grotto was an apple and a diet Coke. I kept a food journal documenting every single thing that I ate, writing down calories and fat grams. I actually began to enjoy the task as if it were a game, something like the limbo, “how low can you go?”

At this same time in my life, my parents were having problems with their marriage. There was lots of yelling. My life was spiraling out of control. Except for one thing: I could control what I ate.

No one seemed to notice anything different about me…I didn’t either. And though only a few days had passed, I decided to up the ante, and I started exercising. It began with walking and turned to whatever aerobics I could do in my room while listening to Bryan Adams or Rick Springfield. Whatever free time I had I spent it not eating and excessively exercising.

In a few days I saw a change. My clothes were looser, and my stomach flatter. I fell in love with this feeling and wanted more. I skipped meals to speed up the process, claiming that I wasn’t hungry because I had had a big lunch at school. I began to loathe food. And I began to welcome the empty feeling in my stomach, its state of hunger making me feel as if I were in a drugged state.

A friend of mine was also experiencing some of the same feelings. Only she was anorexic, I just wanted to “get into shape”. I tried diet pills and found myself shaking in all of my classes, in an amphetamine stupor. I grew tired of that feeling and decided to try self-induced vomiting. Even though I knew I didn’t have much food in me, I thought at least it would speed up the process. I had no idea where I was going with this whole thing, I just knew it was something I needed to do and when I got to where I wanted to be I would know it.

Fortunately, the vomiting thing didn’t really work for me because I was too grossed out by it.

Not to long after I started my “project” my friends began to comment on how great I looked. I wanted even more. I was being noticed and rewarded with comments I had never received before. After only 3 weeks, I had dropped from 125, what I considered at 5’4” to be quite overweight, to a slight 95 pounds. I was happy, but when I looked in the mirror I still didn’t like what I saw. When would it end?

My mother began to notice that I was not feeling well for quite some time. She took me to the doctor who promptly made her leave the room so he could tell me that I was anorexic. Rather than making me uncomfortable and worried, the words seemed to pour over me like warm, soothing water, drenching me in happiness. So I was really thin, it was a medical fact! It didn’t take long for me to dry off. His next words were, “Here’s a card for a friend of mine, he’s a psychologist, and I think you need to see him.” Without missing a beat, I replied, “How much weight do you want me to gain?”

Months later, I was back to normal, though I still wasn’t happy. As a matter of fact at age 42, I still find myself calculating calories and fat grams in my head throughout any given day.   I have never gotten comfortable with food again. And even though I have managed to maintain a healthy weight, I still find myself feeling like I just don’t belong sometimes because of my inner demons.

To eat or not to eat?  That is the question.  Will i ever be able to eat a carbohydrate-laden meal without thinking about where those calories might land?  Will I ever be able to forgo a day of exercise without feeling so damn guilty?

Perhaps saddest of all is the fact that it makes me feel like such a slacker that I don’t have the willpower that I did when I was in  high school – the willpower to starve myself.

So now as a 42 year old woman whose body has given birth to two incredibly beautiful boys, whose body has managed to pull her through some fairly scary medical experiences, whose body is a home not a house, something that is lived in and provides shelter and sustenance, will I ever give up that 16 year old image of myself?

I am working very hard to find myself in the midst of all of these cravings – these cravings to have a pre-baby body.  These cravings to have dimples on my other set of cheeks instead of the ones I sport them on now.  These cravings for perfection in a world that perpetuates the horrible myth that there actually is such a thing.

I am working to develop new cravings.  Cravings for happiness and the ability to appreciate all it means to be a mother, a woman, a wife, a friend, a sister.

I am working very diligently to crave life rather than perfection.

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Once upon a time there was a little boy… (click there <– to watch him – there’s no audio)

Jacob started 7th grade yesterday. I remember when I started 7th grade. I remember the boys in 7th grade. I remember why I dreaded the day when Jacob would be in 7th grade.

Fortunately, Jacob isn’t like many of the boys I went to school with. Not that they were mean or bad. But many of them were too cool – or at least they thought they were, and I have to confess, so did I. Jacob is cool, but not in a cocky sort of way.

The cool boys in my school were good at blending – meaning they all sort of looked alike, acted alike. Of course, maybe that had something to do with the fact that they were all wearing the same Catholic school uniform – dirty gray slacks (not pants), and a pure white shirt.

I don’t think the gray and white were chosen by accident either. I believe that the powers that be were sending a pretty clear message to the boys – from the waist down = dirty parts sure to secure you a seat next to Satan on the Eternity train – from the waist up = the seat of all that is pure and holy. Our skirts were plaid, not sure what that meant – maybe all the lines represented an intricate network of boxes to remind us to keep it all locked up.

Anyway, as I was saying, Jacob is not a blender. Never has been. There have been days when I’ve wanted nothing more than to have him blend because his Tourette’s made him stick out, but, in reality, I’m grateful that my boy hasn’t fallen victim to the Smoothie Syndrome.

I’ll be interested to see how being nearly 13, nearly hairy, nearly deep-voiced will change Jacob. But I don’t think I’ll really see any negative changes. Jacob’s just different.

He’s a yes ma’aming, door opening, follow the rules kinda guy. He’s a give the homeless guy his money, thank the soldiers for protecting our country (every single one he sees), say a prayer for passing ambulances kinda guy.

And no matter the changes that take place, he’ll always be my kinda guy.

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photo credit: alancleaver_2000

I talk big, but I plan even bigger. I’m one for making lists and then compiling those lists into endless folders of ideas and to-do’s that usually wind up as to-don’ts because I have way too many and I get overwhelmed.

I have fallen into this pattern in several facets of my life, but one in particular is about to change…no really, it is this time.

I recently started reading Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now and have found a great deal of wisdom that is applicable to my life in the now.

My mind is in a constant state of motion and lately it’s been nearly unbearable. I find myself overwhelmed by the simplest tasks because I can’t seem to lasso my thoughts in. I am in shut-down mode as a form of self-preservation and I don’t like it. Where once I was excited by possibilities and choices, I am now paralyzed by them. I am depleted.

I talked before about being one of those people, the ones who have chemical imbalances and require medication to help them feel even. I have been a guinea pig this summer, a virtual cocktail of anti-anxiety meds being fed to me in the hopes that one will click. I have high hopes that I’ve found that magic pill and even higher hopes that it will even me out enough to start to be excited about the things that I find debilitating now.

I thought I could do it on my own – fix myself. But I realize I can’t. Part of me feels weak, for not being able to heal myself, but I think the true weakness is not being able to admit my needs, not faults, but needs. I need something to balance my brain.

That said, I am ready to embark on my journey to lose the wait that has been slowing me down for so long. I am ready to shed this false sense of self that I have been holding onto and come back to my true Being.

What is the greatest obstacle to experiencing this reality?
Identification with your mind, which causes thought to become compulsive. Not to be able to stop thinking is a dreadful affliction, but we don’t realize this because almost everyone is suffering from it, so it is considered normal. This incessant mental noise prevents you from finding that realm of inner stillness that is inseparable from Being. It also creates a false mind-made self that casts a shadow of fear and suffering.
-Eckhart Tolle – The Power of Now

I have to let go of my mind – become out of my mind (ironic, considering I feel like I’m already there). When I am able to do that, then I will be so much closer to who I really am and not the person I have allowed to slow me down by creating some “mind-made self”.

I have plans, not lists. Plans to learn to be present in the now, not in the how it might be, or how I’m afraid it might be. I’ve learned the hard way (and am still learning) that thoughts like that do little to propel me forward, rather they stall me out.

Life’s too short to wait for things to happen. I’m ready to make them happen. And if I need a little medication to help put me on the right track, then so be it.

It’s time to jump start the rest of my life and lose the wait because life is going to go on around me whether I jump in or not.

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photo credit: eleanor.black

I admit this post is late in coming because I was stumped.  “X”?  What in the world could that stand for in my life?  I was going to force it and use a word like “Xcellent”, but I would be going against one of my rules, no “kute” misspellings.  So as I was on my way to get groceries this afternoon, I was trying to think of phrases to use instead, and I hit the jackpot.

Treasure maps.  Elusive pieces of paper that have esoteric markings but, if found and cracked, will lead to great rewards.  Hmmm, sounds like life.  Well, that is if life was a piece of paper and could be bought in reams.

John Locke, argued that we are all born as “tabula rasas” – blank slates waiting to be drawn upon, our knowledge coming from experience and perception.  If that’s the case, and I tend to think it sort of is, then we are a bit like treasure maps.

We take the journey of our lives, leaving behind a dashed line of memory, certain areas of our journey being  more significant than others are represented by landmarks or, in this case, life-marks.  And finally we reach a point in our journey when we can say that we have found our treasure.

Treasures will vary, of course.  It’s the whole one man’s trash is another man’s treasure philosphy.

In my life, on my map, I’ve had many life-marks – putting myself through college and graduating 10 years later; moving to Memphis and realizing that, while it was an experience I needed to have, it was only to help me realize how important my home was; finding the love of my life life-guarding at a pool, obviously practicing for his role as my own personal Life-guard, and marrying that man; getting my first teaching job and sharing my love of reading and words with kids who as adults now on Facebook have told me that I was one of their favorite teachers; giving birth to my first son, Jacob; getting paid to write;  deciding to have and having my second child, Nicholas, when I was pretty sure I only wanted one for quite some time; discovering Jacob has Tourette’s and OCD and coming to terms with that – a very long (and sort of continuous process); writing a book about that process.  Those are some of the life-marks that have occured between the dashed lines of my day to day.

There are many more that have happened and many more to come for sure.

As for the treasure, well, I have found several treasures along the way.  I think that “the spot” is actually a series of spots.   I don’t think they are all the great and final big daddy of them all treasure.  But I’m not sure that I want that.  I sort of like finding little treasures along the way.

I find that those little treasures sort of sustain me.  Maybe there is a bigger treasure.  Maybe it’s my book getting published.

But maybe the big treasure is nothing more than a motivator.  Maybe those dotted lines along the map, along with the life-marks and the promise of some huge treasure are simply motivators – things to keep us moving, keep us experiencing life and not getting complacent.

I could go all big picture and talk about the treasure as heaven or whatever “life-after” you believe in.  But I would prefer to focus on my treasure in the here and now.   It’s sort of comforting to know that life is a series of “X’s” instead of one big “X” at the end.

Yeah, “X” marks the spot, for sure.  But my life has X’s all over the place.  How about yours?

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photo credit: Amy McTigue

Things that stress me.  Not exactly a riveting list, huh?  But in light of recent events, I have found myself in a bit of a stressful state of being.  For those of you who know me personally you’re probably thinking, and this is different from your normal state how? And to you all I say, p’shaw because I have always wanted to use that word ever since I learned it on a 3rd grade worksheet.  Don’t ask.

Anyway, as I said I have been very, more than normal, stressed lately.  I don’t enjoy this state of being and yet I can’t seem to pull myself out of it very easily.  I think Wordsworth said it best when he wrote, “The world is too much with us”.

I would like to say that my stress is solitary, that only one thing gets me caught up in my mind, but, sadly, that is not the case.

1.   My kids - I don’t mean this in the man-why-did-I-have-kids sort of way.  The way I stress over my kids varies from day to day.

But mostly my stress lies in my worry that I don’t do enough.  Create enough amazing memories. Bake enough sugary, tooth decaying treats with them.  That sort of thing.  I worry incessantly that they will remember the bad days and forget the really cool days.

Like the day I made a great parody video with Jacob.  Or the day I had a snowball fight with them in the middle of the night because it snowed for the first time in their lives.  Or how we play bat ball at night sometimes.  For those of you who haven’t done this, you must.  In the early evenings when the bats come out, get a tennis ball and toss it up into the air.  They will dive for it and it’s cool and amazing and surreal.  Try it.  You’ll like it.

2.   Digitalia – It sounds like something naughty, but it’s only my many forms of technology that supply me with an endless list of to-do’s and why didn’t you’s.

I am constantly wondering when I will have the time to do something with all the digital photos I’ve taken.  I need to label them, categorize them, print them, do something with them.  But I do nothing.

My emails are like a some sort of digital train wreck.  As of right now I have nearly 1000 emails that need something to be done with them.  Probably most could be deleted, but every time I go to handle my emails, I’ll be damned if more don’t pop up.

I feel sort of like Uncle Vernon in the first Harry Potter movie when the owls deliver Harry’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts.  He plugs up his mail slot and they start flooding in through the fire place and windows.  I could use a little HP magic right about now.

My desktop looks like a file cabinet threw up on it.  I have folders and documents all over the damn place.

Then there’s the blog, twitter, facebook, RSS feeds, bookmarks, Google Alerts – and the list goes on and on.

3.   Summer – Refer to my last post.  A general lack of structure means that Moxie looses some of her Moxie Momma-ness and becomes more Bitchy Momma.  Not good, especially when you throw in 105 degree temps.

4.   Housework – I love a clean house.  And honestly, I really don’t mind cleaning when I have the time.  But lately housework just sort of gets in the way of life and I’m having a hard time getting a handle on it.

Even Fly Lady is nothing but a reminder to me that I didn’t get anything crossed off the list, like I was supposed to.  You’re supposed to work in 15 minute spurts.  But when your 15 minutes keeps getting interrupted with toy rescue searches and lectures on sharing the crappy plastic toys, then 15 minutes turns into 30, then 45, then forget it I’m done.  As a friend of mine once told me, dirt don’t hurt.

5.   Exercise – Exercise has always been a huge part of my life, but lately I’m finding it harder and harder to fit in.  I want so much to be one of those people who gets up at 5am to get a good workout in so they don’t have to worry about how to fit it in their day later.  Things always get in the way.  Well, 5am gets in the way of my sleep.

I am constantly reevaluating my schedule only to be left with the same belief that there truly aren’t enough hours in the day.  However, it remains a very important part of my day.  On the days that I miss it I feel horrible.  For me the horrible feeling is not physical, but mental.  I work so much better when I work out.

And the magazines make it look so easy for moms.  Do squats while you brush your teeth, or leg lifts while stand in front of the stove stirring your dinner.

Okay, here’s the deal for me.  If I do squats while I brush my teeth I will probably wind up shoving the toothbrush down my throat, and if I attempt to do leg lifts while standing in front of anything that is boiling or simmering, chances are I will get off balance and land face first in the marinara.  Yeah, I’m that coordinated.  I prefer to lift my glass of wine, not my cellulitic leg while cooking, thank you very much.

So there you have it, 5 of my stressors.  I assure you there are more.  Many, many more.  But I don’t want to reveal all of my incredible unstableness to you at once.  That would be way too much for you.  Believe me.

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photo credit: showmeone

Three weeks left.  Three weeks left and I feel like I am going to spontaneously combust.  Our two story house has collapsed in on itself like a black hole, sucking all the light out of my world.  Dramatic?  Maybe.  True?  Yeppers.

I’ve spent the last two months trying to entertain a 12 year old, and a 4 year old 12 year old wanna be.  Troubles abound…daily.  Maybe even minute-ly.  Is that a word?

If I wake up to hear what do you have planned today one more time, I will implode.  I’m not sure when my name became Little Miss Day Planner, apparently that memo got colored on, or made into a paper airplane because it sure as heck didn’t find it’s way next to my morning cup of coffee or my evening glass of sanity.

There’s the pool, but when it’s 105 degrees outside and the pool feels more like a bath without bubbles, it looses it’s appeal.  I enjoy solitary, not communal bath times.  Pretty much everything else costs money – and if it’s truly “fun” it costs lots of money.

When I was a kid – oh God, did I really just say that?  When I was a kid no one entertained me.  That’s not to say my parents didn’t do things with me, but they weren’t responsible for my daily agenda.  Mostly I rode my bike and did a bit of hairbrush singing in between.

Today I reached the end of my rope – it was a jump rope so it wasn’t very long to begin with but it was a rope nonetheless.  (Okay, it’s been frayed for a long time, but that’s another post.)  Anyway, Jacob and Nick both had my remote and kept pushing all the buttons.  Nick is easier to deal with – he’s only four.  Jacob, on the other hand, won’t let up.

As a result I found myself raising my voice – something I swore I would never do.  And now I feel horrible.

I think summer has had it’s last hurrah in our house.  I think we are too together – it’s time for a break and not the summer kind.  I never thought I’d be one of “those” parents who looked forward to school.  After all, I used to homeschool Jacob.  But this summer, I’m ready for it to be over.

Today kids seem to need more.  At least mine do.  Maybe that’s my own fault.  I’m not sure.  But I do know that right now I’m thinking “the most wonderful time of the year” comes way before Christmas.

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