It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want to!

So today’s question is, Can Pollyanna’s Have Pity Parties.

The answer is a resounding, YES!

Now one thing that those closest to me, my trusted inner circle..(You know who you are, you mighty blessings from God!)…know about me is that I always try to be boldly transparent, because there is a wealth of freedom in unabashed transparency so that will be my promise to you readers on here too. If I’m going to share with you the ups in my life then it’s only fair that I share the downs too…it’s the only way you can get a true view of who I really am…..and WHY I’m that way.

So in true Betty Davis fashion, (I never liked her, actually, I couldn’t stand the woman…but the sound bite is appropriate for this…..lol) “Hang on…it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

So to clarify….what exactly is the definition of a pity party? Well, contributor “Raspberrymuffin” on the website http://www.urbandictionary.com/ has I believe the funniest definition I have found thus far. She says, and I quote:

2.	pity party
	A way of experiencing grief, in which you spend your time feeling sorry for yourself and whining endlessly about how crappy your life is. Pity parties can be just for one or for many people, such as maybe your friends and close people, who will try to comfort you or just be there for you while you keep asking yourself what did you do to deserve whatever it is that made you so sad in the first place. Pity Parties require the proper outfit, which is usually pajamas cause you don’t get all dressed up during those feeling-sorry-for-myself moments. Also you should have no make up on or just the one from the night before; hair undone as well. It also involves tissues, comfort food such as ice cream; chocolate; potato chips; cookies; cake; and candy. Low fat food is banned Alcohol might or might not be allowed (if alcohol makes you go wild, no alcohol should be brought to the pity party in that case since the point is not exactly to have fun). The purpose of a Pity Party is to dump. The pity music is also very important at pity parties, including songs like "One is the Loneliest Number", "All by Myself" and any other song that makes you feel like throwing yourself from the nearest cliff. Pity parties usually end after you are done whining or if someone breaks it up. This will usually be a cynical loved one who will not let you drown in self pity and will take you either to have the best time ever, drinking and partying or will just make you crawl out of bed by making you see how pathetic you look and how you should cut the whining and just do something to make things better “My boyfriend dumped me and my cat was run over, time to throw a pity party!” “Sorry to break the pity party, but you seriously have to get out of bed and get over it” whining whine depressed pathetic sad by raspberrymuffin Aug 1, 2006

Now, I don’t know about you, but that definition alone was enough to bring me out of my little pity party. LOL. Whether you agree with everything that she said or not, she definitely got the gist of it and nailed a freeze frame moment for all of us.

So what was my pity party about? Well…..to make a long story short…EVERYTHING…..and yet, nothing. I had a classic female meltdown in a most obnoxiously grandiose fashion. Stress from the Deathstar (read my very first blog entry for clarification), stress from hearing, reading, and seeing TOO MUCH bad US politics, stress from the global, national and state economy and how it’s trickling down and affecting our personal finances (insert mental picture of empty wallet with moths flying out). Stress from an over busy schedule, stress from too little rest, stress from living inside the eye of the hurricane, here a stress, there a stress, everywhere a stress, stress…..in a word, STRESS.

It wouldn’t have been so bad, but my Knight in Shining Armor was feeling it too. Now normally he and I blend so perfectly that when one of us is down, the other bolsters the down one with words of encouragement and hope and in no time, we are back on track again. This time however we were both battle weary. (I told a couple of dear friends yesterday it feels like being nibbled to death by a duck! At which point Rae put her head down and tried to hold her laughter in until Allen made a Pac-man hand gesture and referred to Aflac, which sent us all into hysterics….sigh…..thank God for laughter.)

So my dear sweet Ben crawled out of bed at the crack of dawn Saturday morning only to come home hours later from a tedious battle with our local bloodsucking state run DMV…don’t even get me started on that one….and the poor guy was just drained. He opened up and told me what he was feeling and in total and complete empathy, I got teary eyed and hugged him. It’s horrible when your hero feels worn down to nothing and you’re so worn down yourself, that you don’t have the strength to pull yourself back up, let alone helping him back up.

So as he was sharing I was listening and doing my best to give him a safe harbor to vent to, when in the midst of his own transparency he happened to hit upon a raw nerve of my own. It was something I had already been beating myself up over and struggling with the fact that I needed to address it (What is the “it” I’m talking about? Dust bunnies, dirty dishes and laundry…..things that when I’m so mentally and emotionally exhausted I just don’t have the drive to do…one of my worst traits) and the fact that it was bothering him too made me feel worse than worm spit…... So how did I respond? Did I agree and tell him calmly how much I was struggling with it myself? No…..what did I do instead? I turned into a raving witchy Tasmanian she-devil, saying things I shouldn’t say, crying uncontrollably and going on a cleaning tirade powered by shear anger and frustration. Meanwhile poor Ben and Sargie both developed eyeballs the size of dinner plates and backed away from me as quickly as they could to avoid being hit by my verbal shrapnel.

Oh I was a sight to be seen, red eyed and snotty nosed from crying and going on and on like an unbearably whiny broken record stuck on the highest volume setting. Rambling on and on about why on earth did he ever bother marrying me because after all I am SUCH a bad housekeeper and wife and BLAH, BLAH, BLAH… Pull out the world’s tiniest violin and play Moon River for me! I was obnoxious!! Absolutely toxic! Not at all the picture of grace and decorum I TRY to maintain. Finally, out of pure fear for his life Ben decided to go run an errand and leave me and the boy alone for a couple of hours…..I don’t think Sarge appreciated that gesture very much, but he was safe under his living room chair.

So after about a half an hour I calmed down enough to gather my brain cells and rethink my behavior.

Now, it’s at this point that I would normally be able to rally around my faith and be fine. However, I was tired and WANTED to feel sorry for myself. I wanted a good cry, I wanted a moment to be the victim (something I very RARELY do)….so I sat…like a lump….sniffly and quiet and let the mid day sun streaming through the living room windows just bathe me in warm light. Silence….it truly is where I gather my strength from.

I sat there in total peace and quiet for about an hour and then as I was finally feeling receptive to encouragement again, my mother called. Thank God for that woman….we haven’t always had the best relationship, in fact years ago it was downright volatile, but we’ve come a long way since then and in spite of it all, there are so many times that she knows EXACTLY what to say to bring me out of my pity party. This was no different. Her words were the start of hope again. Hope that everything will work out regardless of what it looks like now. Things that I’ve said to her in years past when she felt beaten down and hopeless she now reminded me of and encouraged me with. When I tried to slink back into it, she pulled me right back up…and then….she prayed. Something I have come to value more than life itself. When I got off the phone with her about an hour later I was starting to feel a trickle of life again…..but I was STILL was feeling pretty beaten down…. So I did more cleaning and when it came time to go to the street ministry…..I stayed home to squeak out some more self centered sulking while Ben went by himself.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep too incredibly well that night and the choice to sleep in and skip church just wasn’t an option. I recently accepted a new leadership role at church that requires my presence every Sunday and until my team gets solidified, there are no days off. So I went and tried to be as perky as possible….even though I still felt crummy. When I finished everything I had to do before service I went upstairs to take my seat next to Ben. I was finished a bit early so I got to sing the last worship song, which was no mere co-incidence….especially considering the song was, “The Healer”…and BOYYYY did I need some emotional healing.

As the pastor got up to speak, (whom I must say I just ADORE because he’s so real and transparent which is something more pastors should be, but are usually too afraid to because it may compromise how they are perceived. Then there are the other type that are too caught up in deep “intellectual” sermons that don’t easily translate to the daily battles of the average person and leave the parishioner feeling like they just wasted an hour or more of their time. Soap box…sorry…ANYWAY) he announced that he felt he needed to deviate off his scheduled sermon and do something a bit different. He shared that he himself had been feeling worn down, weary and a bit hopeless due to the current world events….and knew that there were others of us going through the same thing. Everything he said…all of it….was exactly what we all needed to hear. There were collective sighs of relief that flooded through the room as he hit different topics…and of course tears…I was one of them. I felt like a dry sponge that was having cool water poured all over it…just soaking the life back up. It was then that I decided that it was time to snap out of it. Time to pick up and move forward.

So yes, Pollyanna’s have pity parties and they have hissy fits and other things just like everybody else…..but this particular Pollyanna doesn’t want to STAY there. Going through difficult times is normal, but how I respond to them is my choice. In fact, one of my favorite quotes refers to just that.

“All men and women are born, live, suffer and die; what distinguishes us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about… We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live."

~Joseph Epstein

To Gag or Not To Gag, That Is The Question......

Somehow I doubt Shakespeare ever encountered this particular situation. Although, you never know…I suppose it’s possible that good old Wills had to chase around his little dog, Julius Woof-ser and stop him from eating the nasties….

***PETER PAN ALERT***

Ok, so here’s the new rule. In order to prevent all of you from gagging…….or worse, from now on when I’m going to post something that will be in gross detail I’ll start the entry with that. I know at this point only two of you know the whole story behind that warning…and at some point, either Beth or I will have to retell the story to fill you in…but until that day comes….just trust me when I write that. LOL

So…..this morning as we’re going through our normal routine to get ready for work, Sarge is being his usual cute self and wanting to cuddle every five minutes and wanting to have his toys thrown to him every two minutes. I had taken him outside already for his morning potty and he was happy. Well, he has learned our routine well enough that he knows we will be at work all day so if he has to go again before we have to leave he lets us know. Not a problem, I appreciate his mindful consideration so I don’t have to worry about an accident on the floor if we get stuck in traffic on the way home.

So anyway,…..when we got down and had about a half hour left before we had to leave, Sargie asked if he could go out again. Since I was doing my hair Ben took him this time. Moments later, they returned and Sargie trotted down the hall past me and popped the door open to go to his fort. (If you don’t know about that read my last entry) I looked over and saw him come out a moment later only to run into our bedroom and jump on the bed just as I heard Ben come walking down the hall. I saw him eating something and when I looked up at Ben, I noticed he had a banana in his hand and a small knife. So I assumed he was eating a piece of that. Now you have to understand, Sargie has a few favorite foods that he will tackle you for….and bananas are one of them. So I sweetly asked him, “Sargie, did daddy give you a piece of banana?” Sargie looked up at me and Ben with that oblivious “MMMM-MMM GOOD” look at the exact moment that Ben said, “No, I didn’t give him any yet…that’s why I came down here”

Oh, here we go again!

Instantly we were both like “….Dear Lord…what is he eating NOW?!?!?” We rushed into the bedroom and cornered him on the bed. There was a large wet spot….and as he innocently looked up at us we noticed he had white…..cream…on his lips and flecks of black…stuff….on his face. Both of us instantly recoiled but Ben was the first to say what we were both already thinking…. “What IS that????” I rushed around the side of the bed and as I did so, Sargie, who knows the routine by now, flipped the thing out of his mouth so we could inspect it closer. We both leaned in until we were hovering about three inches above this thing. Through all of Sargie’s spit, it looked like a cross between a chewed up piece of black gum and the inside of a walnut, neither of which would cause him to look like he had a milk mustache. As I got even closer to try and figure it out, all of a sudden Ben stood up straight and in a tone of voice that revealed he knew EXACTLY what it was, he burst out with… “AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW…………….was that a CATERPILLAR?!?!?.....UGHHHHHHHH!!!!! (It was at this point that both of us traded our previous gargoyle like faces of disgust for even WORSE gargoyle like faces of disgust as Sargie sat in proud admiration of his tasty tidbit.) “I saw it outside on the ground and realized one of us had stepped on it…but didn’t see it again. Then I saw him pick up what I thought was a leaf off the kitchen floor when we came in…..I guess it wasn’t a leaf……UGHHHHHHHH!!!!”

Ben grabbed a Kleenex from my side of the bed and tossed it to me so I could pick up the bug carcass and wipe the boy’s face and mouth, but by the time he saw the Kleenex coming his way he quickly licked his lips. UGHHHH……..

By this time Ben was thoroughly disgusted and left the room at which time Sargie had the rapturous realization of “BANANA???? Dad’s got BANANA?!?!?! I want banana………BANANA……GET THE BANANA!!!!!!” and leapt off the bed chasing Ben into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, I stood there….staring nauseously at the wet spot on the comforter and trying to dab it dry with the Kleenex….. All the while the only thing running through my head was that famously gross line from The Lion King cartoon where Timon, (who’s voice was provided by the perfectly sardonic, Nathan Lane) grabs a caterpillar from a dead log and says, “OOOHHH, the cream filled kind!” and pops it into his mouth.

I don’t think I will ever be able to watch that again without gagging.

Not how I wanted to start my Friday morning!

Boys Will Be Boys

Every boy needs a fort and apparently, boys of the K-9 variety are no different. If you haven’t noticed by now, our little fluff boy is very quirky….in a good way….and a VERY entertaining way. I know he thinks he’s human……and the way we pamper him, talk to him and take him everywhere possible…..well…..I’m not going to be the one to tell him he isn’t. LOL.

So ever since we got Sargie he follows us EVERYWHERE, he feels the need to be with us no matter where we are. Even when he is sooooo exhausted from a long day of playing, car rides or various other adventures…he simply cannot let us out of his sight. He will wake up out of a dead sleep and get up to follow you only to collapse on the floor of whatever room you’re in, then lead the way back when you’re done. If Ben is sitting at his computer in the office and I’m sitting in the living room on the laptop, Sarge will position himself in the kitchen doorway so he can see us both at the same time. There is however one exception that we have discovered.

In the guest bedroom, I have an old antique bed that sits very high off the floor in the far corner of the room. Next to it I have an antique leather steamer trunk that sits open against the wall to display my collection of teddy bears. On the other side of the trunk is a wooden rocking chair, which sits next to the bedroom closet. Now….in order to fully understand what I’m going to tell you next, we need to shift from human perspective to dog perspective.

Tall bed+ corner +floor length comforter = fort

Trunk+ space beneath open lid+ next to fort = tunnel

Rocking chair+ next to tunnel = camouflaged look out point

Open closet door+ next to camouflaged look out point = U-turn or emergency escape hatch

See where I’m going with this now? Yep…..the mini marine has created a fort for himself….and he plays in it EVERY day. Sometimes it’s cute, other times it’s exasperating. Usually it’s cute though and chances are if I can’t find one of his toys….or all of his toys…it’s because he has carried them inside the fort and hidden them somewhere that only he can see. When we’re in that bedroom using the ironing board or doing something else he will run in and slide across the wood floor as if he’s sliding into home plate then scuttle himself right under the bed just as quickly as his furry little feet will take him. Instantly he begins his back and forth run under the bed, through the tunnel, behind the look out point into the closet to turn around and do it again. Sometimes he will sit at the lookout and monitor what’s going on, other times he will lay down and relax inside the tunnel or in the cool corner of the fort. It’s his own personal game and he thinks you can’t see him. If you sneak over the top of the trunk though and peek down to look at him he gets very upset that you’ve found him and spoiled his fun.

This morning as I was ironing my shirt he went through his usual routine only to find that I had closed the closet door the night before. This I found was COMPLETELY unacceptable to him, and he didn’t think twice to verbalize his frustration to let me know it. I could hear him batting at the door to try to open it and when he wasn’t successful he immediately called my name (in dog language that is) so I could come help him. I walked over to the other side of the rocking chair and was met by his white eye lashed blinking eyes. I asked him what he wanted (as if I didn’t know…lol) and his response was to turn and bump the closet door with his nose then turn back to look at me (Don’t tell me dogs don’t understand! This kid KNOWS when we talk to him). I decided to play hardball to see what he would do, so I said, “No, you don’t need the closet door open…you can come out and turn around.” I went back to my ironing. A moment passed and I heard his frustrated sigh as he pawed at the door more to try and get it open then finally let out another yelp. I went back to look at him again and he stood there staring at me, blinking those adorable eyes and wondering WHY on earth I wasn’t helping him. Finally, I relented and opened the closet door. He happily clambered inside, turned around, and went back through the tunnel and into the fort.

Now like I said, usually it’s cute like this morning was when he goes to play in his fort. However, other times, it is much less than cute. As I’ve mentioned before, he loves to steal paper, empty toilet paper rolls and dryer sheets….among other things, but those are his favorites. Well this past week I caught on to a VERY sneaky little trait that he has developed……pre-meditation.

So…..when the other rooms are not in use we close the doors. A new habit we have developed since we discovered Sargie’s little recon missions to raid things he deems chewable. The doors aren’t locked, just lightly shut to keep him out and he is VERY good about adhering to boundaries…..that is until he discovered the privacy of his fort. Well it seemed harmless enough to let him pop the door open so he could retreat to his little area whenever he felt like it. Until the other day when I witnessed something that blew me away. I sat on the bed working on the laptop and saw him come into the bedroom and walk over to Ben’s trash can to see what was inside, a few ripped up pieces of junk mail…not a big haul. I watched him to see if he was going to pull anything out and was pleasantly proud of him when he didn’t. He turned back around and walked to the hallway completely unaware that I was watching him. Then I saw him go to the guest bedroom door and pop it open. I smiled thinking how cute he is that he was going to go to his little fort and I started to look back at the computer screen. That’s when I noticed him turn back around and slowly walk over to Ben’s trash. He slowly leaned his head over the top of the rim of the basket and looked for a moment then reached in as if trying not to set off an alarm and grabbed a mouthful of paper. Then as if shifting gears he spun around and flew out the door and towards his hideout. I couldn’t believe it! I shouted his name, tossed the laptop to the foot of the bed, and took off after him. Let me tell you chasing after a dog that just dove under a fort and skittered for his escape hatch was not my idea of an evening’s relaxation.

Yeah….you read that right. This adorable and highly intelligent little furball just learned how to carry out a pre-meditated crime! Unbelievable! I was in such shock I had to call Ben…and of course now that we’re dog parents I had to do it correctly, “Ben…..come look what YOUR son just did!!!” I know it was all he could do not to burst out laughing in spite of my shocked frustration. Sooooooo the dilemma now is not to keep the door locked, but every night we have to empty the wastebaskets throughout the house to make sure that he can’t scrounge for paper. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch the kitchen garbage, that doesn’t even interest him…..just the paper trash….only DOGS eat out of the kitchen garbage I guess…..LOL.

**sigh** Never a dull moment in the Babij household…..lol

Remind me to tell you about the "baked bean incident" one of these days.