creative.mother.thinking

explaining my life to strangers

Archives for January 2007

handicapped

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January is almost over and I still have to write my social issue post. I promised, so I deliver. When I was a child and young adult there just were no handicapped people visible. The only one I knew was my cousin. She had a hole in her heart and when the doctors operated to fix that they found out that everything was connected to the wrong place and so they had to leave it open. She always had a very bluish tinge and her left arm was paralyzed. We didn’t meet often, she was about five years older than I and there was only one year when we visited each other and talked. I never understood why my mother always whispered when talking about her. To me she was my cousin. Different yes, but then everybody is, in a way. Nobody told me that she had been living on supposedly borrowed time since birth. When she died at the age of 30 she had lived far longer than expected.

Apart from that I was one of those people who shy away from people in wheelchairs on the subway thinking, “I hope he doesn’t ask me to help him, I hope he doesn’t ask me.” And then I was unemployed after my last ever office job, knowing I’d never work in a place like that again, looking for a job in my own field. I was so desperate I even considered teaching. With hindsight I say that was the best move I ever made, but then it seemed terrifying. A friend of mine worked as a music teacher for grades 7 to 12 in a private school. She got pregnant and looked for somebody doing her job while she was on maternity leave. I really needed a job, but teaching? In a school? And in a private school with 60% of physically handicapped students? “But what shall I do?” I asked, “I don’t know how to help them. I never had anything to do with handicapped people.” She told me not to worry. Those people were very used to tell others how to help them. They do it all the time.

It’s a very small school, only 14 students per class. And I taught music there and found out that I love teaching music but that I am no longer able to work in a hierarchic system. Some of the students I liked and some I didn’t like. It is a marvelous school. they have helpers for those of the students who can’t do things on their own like eat, go to the bathroom or write. We had students with all kinds of handicaps from all over the country. Suddenly I found out that even Germany where there are many regulations and everything has to have access for wheelchairs is not as friendly as I thought.

Daily contact with people with muscular dystrophy, spasticity, paraplegia, osteogenesis imperfecta, spina bifida, and whatever changed my attitude a little. The first time I heard a fellow teacher saying, “Oh, he’s only a paraplegic, he can do everything on his own.” I was a little speechless. But compared to others… Nowadays when I meet somebody in a wheelchair in the subway I can see, if he’s a paraplegic, basketball-playing in a sports-wheelchair who is perfectly capable of maneuvering his wheelchair up the escalator, and probably stronger than me or if it’s somebody who’d like to have a little help pushing the button that opens the door.

And I found out that handicap or not, we all are just people. Not knowing how one can help certainly is no excuse for looking away. If you were handicapped like, let’s say, you broke your foot and are on crutches, or you broke both feet and are in a wheelchair, would you find it acceptable if people looked away because they were afraid of doing something wrong when helping? Would you find it acceptable for people to rush past you not helping you to maneuver your wheelchair out of the subway? Would you like to stay at home always, because you can’t drive a car or push a grocery cart on your own?

There’ll be a second part to this post, because again, I am under time restrictions here, but for today I have a task for you: when you’re out today, try to look out for people who might need a little help. Or even if they don’t need your help at all, just make eye contact, smile and treat others as equal human beings.

Thank you. End of sermon for today.

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Blogger Postcards from the World 2

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I’m always amazed at all those food bloggers. Not only do they cook magnificent things I’d never dream of trying, no, they blog about it and make gorgeous photos. My attempts at photography are *cough* mediocre at best, and my attempts at food blogging best go unmentioned. (But you can see them in my post about mega menu-mailer. Yeah, that’s me. take a bag from the freezer, thaw, cook still frozen and be happy to have something remotely edible.)

I stumbled over Meeta’s blog on blogher because she is living in Germany too. And not only does she have a food blog (and really gorgeous pictures), she also hosts the “blogger postcards from the world” event. I’m glad to participate in it for the second time.

This time around there is a theme to it: “Valentines”. I’m not much into Valentine’s day, because, in Germany at least, it seems to be an invention of a big chain of flower shops, but as Germans love anything American, of course, nowadays Valentine’s day is celebrated too. On the other hand, my feeling for gross commercialization notwithstanding, it is always good to spread the love around, and so I decided to make my own Valentine’s postcard to be sent to a yet to be unnamed recipient. I first thought of drawing a big heart and write something on it, then I couldn’t find a red sharpie. Then I thought, well, why not browse flickr and find some cute photo to use. There I saw a picture of several Valentine’s postcards. I almost used that and then I thought of my Peanuts collection. Ha! What would be better than a self-made peanuts Valentine’s card. Then my son came back from a friend, life happened and I had to try again today.

I went out and bought a postcard which you can see below.


As the one I sent as part of the first BPW event it will travel halfway around the world. But I won’t tell you where right now. All the bloggers on the list will blog about the postcards they sent today. Then we’ll wait. In a few days or so everybody who received a postcard will blog about it. And then you can see who got mine. Or who sent me a postcard. I hope my postcard travels safely. Right now my husband is going to the post office.

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how one can tell that I am teaching more than before

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I’m really happy that I have more students to teach. Really. More students mean more money. I no longer have to pinch every penny. And I like teaching. But one can tell that some things have suffered. The blog for example. Since I have been posting a lot of my to-do-lists here, I thought I’d just make it a little more visual this time. So, you can tell that I have been teaching more by:

My congas waiting to be photographed so I can sell them. (Anybody wanting some fabulous Michel Delaporte-congas? They are quite rare.)

Catalogue waiting to be browsed through, note waiting to be given to my husband, books waiting to be put back on shelf. (I fetched the Terry Pratchett book looking for a quote about the monks of cool, because I wanted to write about feeling cool. Well, the quote actually was in another book (the internet told me so), and the post never happened.) Couple of receipts waiting to be entered into computer for budgeting.

Stuff my husband used to polish the aforementioned congas so that they look better in the pictures waiting to be put away.


Wastepaper basket waiting to be emptied. Look at all those candy wrappers. Right where my students can see them. Either it has been a very long time since I last emptied it or I see for the first time why my weight has been going up again. Now venturing outside my room into the living room:

New shelves for DVDs. I put them together, but they are waiting to be installed on top of the ones we already have.

This was given to me for Christmas. I have to put some new wire to it and hang it up.

Kitchen: Toast waiting to be put into freezer bags and to be frozen.


Basement: Laundry waiting to be folded and put away.

Bedroom: More laundry waiting to be ironed, a glass waiting to be recycled, books waiting to be disposed off. Maybe I put those children’s books up for sale too.

My son’s room: projects and pictures waiting to be put away in a tidy manner.

Sigh.

So now you know how I will spend my weekend. What will you do? I hope your weekend has some family fun time in it.

And who knows, maybe there will be some real post from me tomorrow.

And you know what, today is my 39 1/2 th birthday. Only six months left until the -0.

sleep

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The way I have been craving sleep lately you’d think I had a 6-month-old in the house or were insomniac. But it is neither. I can’t say for sure, but it might well be that every single journal entry for the last, um, four years has started with “I am so tired.” (Paper journal, not online thingy, blog.) Maybe this has replaced my obsession with food and feeling fat, who knows. Maybe, and this really is the first time I’m thinking this, this problem I have with sleep stems from the same source as my former eating disorder.

So. Sleep. Just to think of it. Becoming oblivious to the world, resting, dreaming, nesting under warm duvet covers. Bliss. So why do I never sleep enough? I could blame my son; that would be easy. And for years he has been the source of my lack of sleep. But since he turned two years old he has slept beautifully, only disturbed when sick. And, for some reason unknown to us, he keeps on waking up an hour earlier than usual on Saturdays. But since I have heard of children waking up at 5.30 or something, I won’t say anything against him.

I really have no problem with the sleep itself. When I have the feeling of having tossed and turned for ages before getting to sleep, my husband (the official tosser and turner in our family) informs me that it took me all of five minutes to start snoring. (And yes, I really often snore, I am allergic to mold and thus have a year-round snotty nose.) No, when I go to bed, everything is fine. I’m that kind of sleeper who after a nighttime thunderstorm gets up in the morning all rested and when asked, “Wasn’t that a terrible thunderstorm?” says, “What thunderstorm?” I come from a long line of sound sleepers, my parents are famous for their never-disturbed sleep. I lay my head on my pillow and that’s it until morning. When I have a particular restless night, I might wake up and look at the clock, or maybe go to the bathroom. Then I go back and sleep again. This is a very useful talent to have. Especially when faced with a sick child. Wake up, tend to child, go back to bed, fall asleep. Rinse and repeat. (Hey, I should have posted that as my hidden talent in the meme I answered two days ago. Ability to sleep under all circumstances.) I used to be able to sleep in rooms full of people, light and noise, but that’s where I feel my age, that’s no longer possible.

The time when sleep was most precious was, of course, when my son was a tiny baby. When he was born I thought to myself how amazingly easy it was to cope with the lack of sleep. I need a lot of sleep and was very much afraid that I’d be constantly overtired when having him. Well, the real sleep deprivation kicked in a little later. When I was working three days a week, still nursing him around the clock, and then, when he was eight months old, the teething started and he woke me every hour to use me as a human pacifier. Fun was had. At that point I was so tired that I dozed off when my husband told me something and paused for about one second.

But this is long past, we treated this with daddy on night duty for two weeks, teabottle at the ready; mama sleeping in the spare bedroom (soundproofed annex! hurray!) being off duty until 5 am. So after that I could have slept enough. Alas, I didn’t. What I do is this:

I go through my day tired, uttering frequently, “I’m so tired, I’m so tired! But today I will take a nap for sure.” Until it is time for the nap, then I’ll find something really important, like reading blogs, do that until my free time is over, then go through the rest of the day with glazed eyes announcing, “But today I will go to bed on time for sure!” every thirty minutes or so. After bringing my son to bed very slowly, because I’m so tired, I go off to my room, play a little piano or guitar, watch an episode of “Buffy” or two, talk to my husband, say, “Of course I will be going to bed on time today.” sincerely, then switch channels, watch some silly documentary about playboy bunnies or some such, get off the couch at 11, go to bed half an hour later, sleep until my alarm goes off at 6.45. Repeat.

You might say, what is she whining about, if I understand her correctly she gets a whole 7 1/2 hours of sleep. And nowadays everyone and her grandmother seem to think that six hours is enough and seven is plenty. I, on the other hand, do need at least 8 1/2 of sleep, better 9 to feel good and have a functioning brain. And from what I’m hearing and reading I’m not alone. A friend of mine recently told me, “I don’t know, why I am so tired, I am sleeping a full six hours every night.” Duh! I have a book (a good book) “Outsmarting Female Fatigue: Eight Energizing Strategies for Lifelong Vitality” (Debra Waterhouse) which say that most women need an average 8 1/2 hours of sleep. And that everything between 4 and 11 hours is considered normal. That doesn’t mean that it’s normal to sleep only 4 hours, it means that it might be normal for you. But if you’re tired, cranky, constantly hungry, forgetting things, and doze off in front of your TV every night, maybe you need to get more sleep. And maybe you’re somebody who needs 11 hours a night. Ever thought of that? Very inconvenient, but there is no fighting it. When you don’t get enough sleep, you’re tired.

That’s what I’ve been trying to teach my son. When you’re tired, you can eat all you want, it doesn’t help. Only sleeping does. Since having him, I know why people overeat when they’re tired by the way. Tired babies nurse to sleep. So eating provides everything good at once: company, cuddle contact, food, and help to get to sleep. When he was about a year old, he sometimes would literally eat himself to sleep. Fall asleep chewing. Stuffing tremendous amounts of food in his little mouth. That’s when I learned why I am constantly eating when I’m tired. And I like to eat more sugar in times like that, because with the sugar high I get a little boost too.

I’m a little older than a year, so I should know better. I do know better, I only don’t do better. So I’ve been giving myself stickers for going to bed before 11. For three years. Three years! I feel a little pathetic. Um, not just a little. I’ve invented a couple of little tricks. I clean my face and put on moisturizer when I have put my son to bed. I put on my pajama before sitting down to watch my show. I programmed my PDA to beep on bedtime. I have asked my husband to please remind me that it’s time. And for every evening that I have found my way triumphantly to bed before eleven there are two when I just stayed a little longer and went half an hour later. Or two hours later.

I fear I have to get my priorities right. Sleep. Is. Very. Important.

Or like I tell my son constantly: When you’re tired playing is no fun.

Go, have a nap on me.

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another meme

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Ha, I really got tagged this time. Granted, asking somebody “And whom do you tag?” is about as subtle as jumping up and down, frantically waving and yelling “Pick me! Pick me!” on top of you lungs, but still, officially and personally tagged for the first time. Oh, by Meno. Why couldn’t I have reacted to a meme where you don’t have to think, like that itunes-meme I was thinking of stealing. So, questions and answers (and no multiple choice)

1. If you had to choose one vice in exclusion of all others, what would it be?
I didn’t know you get to choose the vices. I’d say over-indulgence. But I could have said beer. But that’s not a vice. Isn’t it?

2. If you could change one specific thing about the world, what would it be?
I would give all people complete awareness and enlightenment. But I think it doesn’t work that way.

3. Name the cartoon character you identify with the most.
Cartoon character? As in animated? I’ll copy this one from Meno and say Daria. I haven’t watched the show on a regular basis, but I liked her a lot.

4. If you could live one day in your life over again, which day would it be?
Well, only if you force me to. Maybe May 1st, 1994, when after our second date, my husband-to-be and I realized that we’d be staying together. It was spring, we went to the station hand in hand, and sat down on a bench looking at green and yellow fields and trees. Sigh. Though I don’t know, I spent the rest of the day working on my dissertation.

5. If you could go back in history and spend a day with one person, who would it be?
A writer I would have loved to meet, but who probably wouldn’t have been that interested in meeting me, would be Carolyn Heilbrun.

6. What is one thing you lost, sold, or threw away that you wish you had back?
Um. No regrets. New things are always so much more exciting.

7. What is your one most important contribution to this world?
Teaching people they can be creative, and that there is another lifestyle apart from being a “muggle”.

8. What is your one hidden talent that nearly no one knows about?
If I have one, it is hidden to me too. Though I may have a very hidden talent for drawing. I never draw, so I’m not good at it, but when I concentrate, sometimes one glances a sparkle of talent, inherited from my father and grandfather.

9. What is your most cherished possession?
This means things, doesn’t it? My piano. Though my computer comes in a close second. I have lived without computer and without piano. Without piano was worse. But then, why should I have to choose? (And if I only had the money, I’d buy a new piano in a split-second.)

10. What one person influenced your life the most when growing up?
Obviously my mother. (If Meno finds that exorcist, send her over to my place too, please.) Second, maybe Dorothy L. Sayers.

(I know it said one person, I’m not stupid, I have listened, but almost everybody is highly influenced by her mother. To say otherwise would be lying. But my mother is not the person that shaped my thinking much.)

11. What word describes you better than any other?
Confused? I’ll settle for complex. Ah, no, now I got it: woman.

Phew, describing a person with one word. I’m certainly not a one-word-person. Even when people are asking me for my sign I’ll say, “Leo with ascendent Sagittarius, but I’m not that fiery, because I have that Saturn on my moon in Aries, and then there’s this whole bunch of planets on top of my horoscope with all that scorpionic and plutonic influence, but my family is very fishy…”)

Okay, I’ve done it. That’s a tough one. So, anybody who wants to do this meme, feel tagged. I’m especially tagging De and Liv, who probably have better things to do with their time. (Psst, and if you’re to cool for memes? Just ignore it.)

I’m feeling good, I’m feeling good!

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Just a few words to tell you that I feel almost normal again. Thanks for you concern and comments. I had wanted to write something longer and more profound, but the day turned out completely different from what I planned. Instead of writing and making music, I spent the morning running errands with my husband and then eating Chinese food. And then he made me happy by saying, “You know, I never told you, but though I criticize you all the time, I love you just the way you are. Even your faults.” Wow.