Jump

In case you missed it, an Austrian man jumped from the edge of space yesterday and reached Mach 1.24 in his free fall back to earth. That is 800+ miles per hour without the protection of a plane around him. We watched the entire event unfold, all two and a half hours of it, completely transfixed that someone could be courageous (borderline crazy) enough to effectively risk killing himself in from of family and friends and the viewing audience as well.  I think what he did was absolutely amazing and mind boggling, surpassed only by the fact that someone had already made a similar jump from a 'mere' 19 miles up all the way back in 1960! What made yesterday's jump even better was that the previous record holder, now 84 years old, was the only person in the command center who was allowed to communicate with the jumper for safety reasons.  I am fascinated by this on so many levels none the least of which is that this gentleman had the wits about him at his age to be able to take down the stats necessary to ensure a safe jump, but also to complete the final check list necessary before the jumper dove out of the capsule. The fact I find most interesting is that this gentleman retains the longest free fall record as that was one record not broken yesterday...and he did it all 52 years ago.  Unbelievable!

Now, let's talk about the jumper's mom.  Oh, my goodness, how the heck did she stand to watch this feat?  Yes, she did cry initially but then she seemed to pull herself together in a way I know I never could.  When the camera panned to her calmly sitting on the couch watching the live feed, she looked as though she might have been watching 'Dancing with the Stars' instead.  Even with the years of daredevil antics I am certain her son put her through prior to this, I was still amazed at her calm persona as she had no idea how this show was going to end.  Thankfully, it ended very well but, boy, it could have been ugly.

Hopefully, none of my children will ever subject me to this type of torture as they all know I would not sit by stoically, calmly watching their antics, hoping for a positive result.  Had that been my son yesterday, I would have knocked that crane driver out and driven my son, still in that capsule, right out of Roswell and then I would have blamed aliens for the disruption.

No Way!

Sixteen years ago today, I was very pregnant, very anxious and, true to the perfectionist that lives inside of me, going crazy making sure that all my plans were in place before the main event scheduled to arrive on October 18th.  I prided myself on the fact that I had read 26 books about pregnancy and a child's first years, I had studied and I was ready for my test.  Not one to leave details to someone else, I had already submitted a carefully crafted and explicit birth plan to my doctor whom I adored as he was an older gentleman who took his time with me and answered the 42,000 questions that I had had, all with kindness and understanding.  Over the course of the nine months, however,  I made sure to visit each with doctor in my practice so that there would be no surprises on the day I delievered.  What I had not planned for (probably because everyone I knew told me that the first child is rarely delivered on its due date) was the fact that I went into labor in the middle of the night on October 8th.  Of course, my bags had been packed a month in advance so there was no worry there except that my husband was so nervous getting out of the house, the bag got stuck in the doorway twice before I told him to turn it sideways to make it through (he also forgot the bag with all my toiletries in it and I had to ask the night nurse for a toothbrush and some toothpaste!).

By the time I was almost in full labor, I had thrown that birth plan right out the window because I wanted drugs and lots of them. Once I had the epidural and I had released my death grip on my husband's hand, things began to move along more smoothly until the doctor arrived.  Now, although I was in labor and I knew I was not looking my best, I pacified myself with the knowledge that my doctor would not even take notice.  I could be unselfconscious and just relax.  Wrong.  Just as I knew delivery was close, the door opened and in walked an extremely young and terribly good-looking doctor with a killer smile who was subbing for my doctor who became unavailalbe at the last moment.  I tried covering up a little (giving birth is not pretty, you know) but realised all too soon  that this was one of those 'whatever' moments and I focused on the birth of my gorgeous baby boy.

So, here we are almost 16 years later and I would never have believed that that little newborn would turn into my handsome teenage son.  He has brought me so much joy and laughter (okay, and tons of sarcasm and eye rolling, too) that I could never imagine my life without him.  In fact, I loved being pregnant so much so that I did it again and again and again and you know what?  All the pain and torture of delivery (and the embarrassment, too) was instantaneously forgotten the minute he was placed in my arms.

Happy 16th Birthday!

Ha! You Lose!

On Monday, when I turned my calendar page to October, I realized that my 'friend,' the criminal, was supposed to be sentenced in the morning.  I thought about it on and off all day, wondering if indeed he would be getting the maximum sentence or if justice would turn its head the other way and let him off easy.  I worried for over two years about this man reliving over and over again the sense of personal violation he had caused me when he shattered my car window, stole my identity and subsequently, shattered my life.  Every three months like clockwork, I received subpoenas for both his trial and his girlfriend's.  I mentally prepared myself to face him in court only to be devastated by the subsequent phone call or letter alerting me to yet another continuance or postponement in the case.  I cannot tell you the amount of emotional upheaval I went through knowing that I had three more months put in front of me, more months of stress and anguish, only to go through it all again--six times for his trial alone, to be exact. When I actually testified this past August, it was liberating and even knowing that I have another trial to face next month (if it happens as this trial has been postponed seven times already!!!), I now know what to expect and at least some of the fear has become manageable.  It no longer consumes me.

For the record, the prosecuting attorney asked for a 20 year sentence as he was being tried as a career criminal.  Today, I received a letter in the mail stating that he got 28 years. This summer,  he boldly refused a plea deal of 10 years which had been presented to him.  I think he may have made a mistake in doing so, don't you?

Why Rush It?

Let me preface this post by letting you know that I am in a dark place today, a black mood so to speak,  so those of you looking for an uplifting, life affirming read, please check back later as this one will not satisfy you in the least. Right now, I seem to be grappling with the speed with which our lives are flying by, and yet, how we are steadfastly mired in one place while others seem to be moving forward, growing and changing, all the while making plans and actually seeing them to fruition.  It is a marvel to us that we seem to be trying all different options and yet nothing seems to be working.  Maintaining our optimism is really an option that has worn out its welcome and despite my efforts to 'stay positive' for the children, I am feeling pretty battle weary.  I have been dreading the holidays since we started school knowing that they would be speeding our way now and we would be hit full-on while we are still financially unstable.  Which leads directly to my gripe of the day...while it is bad enough that I need to face the fact that the holidays are coming, I ask you, must they all come at once?

I was shopping yesterday and I entered a store which had Halloween displayed out in front, Thanksgiving/harvest right behind that and the entire other side of the store was Christmas-themed.  Holy heck!  It was my worst nightmare come to life.  Had this retailer somehow entered my thoughts and decided to hand me my own personal horror story in a one-stop shopping environment?  My fear...no money, lots of holidays to manage...bulked out in my honor. I simply do not understand the rush to get through all the holidays we are supposed to enjoy.  Retailers did not do this back when I was a child and yet we managed to get through each one with decorations and gifts as applicable.  How did we manage to do that with so little prep time?  A wonder, no?

Unfortunately, in our rush-rush society, this seems to be our new normal for the holiday season. So, with that in mind, I am heading to Target and since I find them to always be head of the game, I will be sure to pick up some Valentine cards along with my groceries.

Knowing Headaches

This has been an odd weekend for me.  The days have crawled by for no apparent reason and their length is so obvious, even my husband commented that these two days seem much longer than most.  Try as I might, I cannot put a finger on why they seem unbearably long as the weekend has been pretty good.  The weather has been gorgeous and we have spent a lot of time outside playing plus, despite our usual weekend homework wars, there were no big battles to be fought.  As a matter of fact, I started the weekend off in a particularly good mood as my best friend had brain surgery on Thursday morning and had already texted me (yes, I blown away, too) by Friday morning.  By Friday afternoon, she had already called me and she was happily ensconced at home by 1pm EST on Saturday.  The weeks leading up to the surgery were filled with dread and fear of the unknown and yet, after 4.5 hours of surgery, she was able to text and talk to me the very next day.  We are all amazed and very, very grateful.

Of course, being prone to migraines myself, I could not have survived the weekend without a monster 'post-traumatic stress' whopper of a headache hitting me at 3am this morning.  Nothing starts the morning off right better than being startled awake by searing pain such that I thought my brain was exploding within the confines of my skull.  Being no stranger to these headaches and knowing their aftermath intimately, I braced for a long day and was met with one.  When I told my friend about my migraine (interestingly she has not suffered even a mild headache since her operation), she suggested I try a craniotomy (ever the jokester), too.  So, in honor of her suggestion, and because I am such a control freak, I am looking up instructions for a 'do it yourself' version on the web.  She got quite a chuckle out of my suggestion and told me that she would not have expected me to go about it any other way.  This from the same woman who told me that whenever she is feeling down, she thinks about my life and then she feels blessed.  Gotta love her!

Inertia

I spend a lot of time really listening to people and what they have to say.  I have a tendency to take it all in, the big picture, not merely their words but the implications that tend to travel along with them.  Because I was born with the ability (curse) to never take anything lightly, I then ruminate about those words and the people who said them, constantly comparing myself to them, for better or worse.  Speaking to me should come with a disclaimer stating that nothing said to me in passing is ever just that, a mere passing comment.  Nothing is situational for me, but all is fodder for my constant mental rehashing.  Where am I going with this?  Well, after too much Facebook and chats with neighbors of late, I have decided that I am a slug.  It seems that I am suffering from a form of mental paralysis that is keeping me from actually living a life instead of merely existing in one.

That said, I do have an extenuating circumstance in that with no income, we are in kind of a bind when it comes to 'living the good life.'  However, I am so in awe of people who make a plan or set a goal and then go after it with reckless abandon (no, never been reckless in my life, but I can dream, can't I?).  I watch Househunters International on HGTV and I am completely amazed at people who have given up good jobs and beautiful homes all for a dream, or at least a chance at it, in some obscure European village or third world country with a gorgeous beach. How I wish self-confidence was a saleable commodity.  I swear I would be the first in line with my credit card at the ready.

I was brought up to think first, fully understand all possible ramifications of my actions and then, if I was certain I could do something well and appropriately, I could act on it. A direct result of all this 'analysis before action' apparently led to my son telling me that I am too much of a 'goody two shoes' to have ever done anything wrong.  He is not completely right as I did attempt to have fun during my college years, however, I certainly have had my feet cemented in the straight and narrow ever since.

So, on this Monday morning when I am feeling wholly disenchanted and bored with where/who I am in my life right now, I am looking to converse with only those who who are equally dismayed or more cranky (as if that really is possible) about their lives for self-preservation sake.  The rest of you happy campers, talk amongst yourselves and  keep your distance until further notice!

Change

Sometimes I think change is over-rated.  Oh sure, I embrace change more easily than most and given our life status right now, I had better be able to adapt or life could get really messy.  I need to embrace the fact that change is good, it shakes up the mind oftentimes brings clarity once I get over the shock.  Our life is filled with more questions than answers, more tumult than stability. I hate to admit it but it is filled with more fear and sadness than it should be especially with young children.  The most import point I try to drive home to them is that change, though sometimes unwanted, is character building.  It requires a lot of inner strength to not become mired in the 'if onlys,' but to focus on making the new alternative a positive and happy experience.

That said, sometimes change just stinks as evidenced by the upgrade on my search engine (I bet you thought I would be taking this blog in a different direction, eh?).  Why, oh, why would this company remove my most favorite element, the ability to email a page merely by pressing the button?  How the heck is this an upgrade?  I now have to copy and paste when I can, but most of the time that is impossible with numerous pages to email, so I just skip it.  Bummer.  I would love to have been sitting in on the meeting of the minds who decided to kill my button in an effort to 'upgrade' their engine.  I would have loved to give them a piece of my mind but there is so little left these days, I cannot afford to give any away so easily.

I did say change was character building, right?  Don't tell my children, but sometimes I don't believe all the things that actually come out of my mouth either.