You’ll Eat It and You’ll Like It!

Little One has a few bites of food left on her plate. Literally just teaspoons. I see the look in her eyes. She’s full.

“Baby Girl, don’t eat it,” I say.

“But, I feel bad.”

“What? For the starving people in Africa? I gave you too much. Never force yourself to clean your plate. I’ve always told you that.”

Right there, I did it. I was like my parents in one of those parent quotes talking about the kids in Africa. Remember your parents saying stuff to you about how there were starving kids in Africa? Or Ethiopia? And how you needed to clean your plate because they didn’t have food? And, if you said anything about mailing your food to them, you’d get a slap in the head? And, if you didn’t like the food, tough beans.

“You’ll eat it and you’ll like it!”

This is that table where I'd spend many a long evening.
This was obviously a better eating moment.

Where do parents come up with this stuff? And, how big did they think our bellies were? No wonder so many of us have weight issues. And, why did they assume liver was so delicious? If you like it so much, you eat it. More for you. (I would never say that out loud or I’d get my mouth washed out with soap, but I’d sure think it).

I remember long evenings sitting alone at the kitchen table trying to choke down some eraser-like substance called liver.

I already got the, “You’ll just sit here all night until it’s gone!”

You can only put so much masticated liver in your napkin before they catch on. And forget about going to the bathroom more than once with a mouthful to hopefully spit into the toilet and flush away forever.

And, you’d sit there crying with what seemed like a piece of fiberboard in your mouth and get the, “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!” You already did. It’s in my mouth, remember?

So, did our parents get manuals at the hospital with all these saying when we were born? Even Five Eleven and her cousin, PJ, heard similar things and they were raised 2400 miles away. And, with all these sayings, remember how they were always yelled or screamed at us?

“Were you born in a barn?”

“You’re letting all the flies in!” (Like, really? ALL the flies?)

“I’m not heating the outside!”

“I’m not air-conditioning the outside!” (Even though we didn’t have air-conditioning).

“Either you’re in or you’re out!”

“Slam that door one more time, Missy!”

“Were you raised by heathens?” (If you’re a heathen, then yes.)

You’d want to come in for a drink from having been sent outside to play all day when it was like 100 degrees out. And, you’ve already been screamed at for going in and out a “hundred times.”

“Just drink out of the hose!”

Yea. That was safe advice. Hot hose water from the toxic hose.

Then, there were the times when you were bored. Remember in those days we only had a handful of toys in our rooms?

“Because we aren’t made out of money!”

Yea, my face stuck like that. I'm the one with the long hair on the left.

 And, if you mentioned you were bored, you’d get the, “Oh, I’ll give you something to do!” I’m not sure what that was, but the way it was said, it never sounded good.

“Heaven forbid” it should rain and we were stuck inside in our rooms.

“Don’t make me come up there and smack you!”

“Just wait until your father gets home!”

“It’s all fun and games until someone gets their eye put out!”

“Don’t come crying to me!”

“I’ll slap the taste right out of your mouth!”

“Don’t make me get the wooden spoon (or spatula, belt…) out!”

“If it hurts, it’s working.”

You’d get that last one if you got cut or scraped and your mom was pouring alcohol on your wound because that’s what she did.

And, remember driving somewhere in the car? No one had air-conditioning. It was always 900 degrees and you’d be sandwiched between your little brother and sister and one or both of them were poking you.

“He’s poking me!” you’d yell. Bad idea.

“Do you want me to stop this car?”

“Do you want me to come back there?”

“Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you!”

“He’s making faces at me,” you’d say and be pouty and half-ready to cry.

“Stop it. Your face will freeze like that!” you’d get back.

Then the disembodied hand would come from the front seat and start swinging wildly trying to hit anyone or anything that was within reach. All hell would break loose and the car would be swerving and we’d be screaming and crying (or laughing which was never a good idea in that situation).

Gosh, those were the days, huh?

I guess I made different decisions about parenting when my kids were born. I’m lucky that they are darned good girls though, too. Imagine, if I had jumped off that bridge with my friends, I wouldn’t be here to do that.

What did your parents say to you? Do you say the same things to your kids? Or, do you just think them?

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com

Unexpectations on Kindle

So, You Finally Met Your Girlfriend? And, She Wasn’t a Catfish?

Here’s the scoop. I just spent the past month with Five Eleven (formerly known as 5-11 SexyBoi SexyTwang). Day in. Day out. And, it was absolutely wonderful. Better than wonderful. But, she’s your girlfriend and you’ve been dating, like, eight months, you say? Yep. So true. But, it was long distance. 2400 miles apart. We hadn’t actually met until December. Things just came up. With jobs and travel plans and stuff. And, with my head injury, I couldn’t travel out there, so that also limited things.

Friends would say that we just needed to meet. Hurry up, already. To see if we liked each other. To see if there was chemistry. Sparks. Fireworks…that kind of stuff. What if she wasn’t a good kisser? Um, no, that was not the case. (Phew! That could have been bad!)

Five Seven and Five Eleven isn't that much of a difference...

I met Five Eleven online. On Twitter, actually. I wrote about her in The Baby Photo Dating Story. I started talking to her as just a friend. A friend going through a breakup just like me. Only her most recent relationship was a longer one. But, I had once been there too. We talked as friends about chocolate. If you know me, you know I love chocolate. She does too. And, we talked about life. About love. About our hopes. Our dreams. About sex. Or, lack thereof. We talked “as friends” for months. She wasn’t “my type.” But, she seemed safe. She was good people. Yea, I was wrong on that. The not-my-type thing. I was totally right about the good people part.

After my heart did its flippy thing and I fell for her, at times I’d feel the outside pressure to have to meet her. But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from having a brain injury, it’s patience. In our world of technology and high speed everything, things that are worth the most, aren’t always immediately attainable.

I feel that we were fortunate to have time to build such a good relationship long distance. Based on friendship first. She also helped me a lot with my head injury and keeping me organized with appointments, helping me ask the right questions, get the right treatments… Most people could have walked away right then and there. And, I always half expected it. But, not Five Eleven. Like she says, “through thick and thin, sickness and health.” Even while she was here, she took care of me. Drove me everywhere I needed to go. Did the things that she knew made me most nauseous. She made sure I rested and didn’t do too much that would have hurt my head. How lucky am I?

So, when I first met her, she was exactly what I imagined. Maybe better. Yea. Better. Watching her movements and mannerisms was nice. And, her swag. Yea. She’s got swag. She was as sweet and as kind as I had thought. And handy. Holy handiness! I thought I could rock a toolbelt. Wow. Not quite like her. And, after an entire month, things never changed…well, not for the worst…they just got better and better. Plans are already in the works for more face time.

Sorry the eucalyptus is covering up some of the swag. Dang! That's good swag.

Isn’t this how people used to date? In the “old days?” The really old days? Get to know someone over time with hand-written letters and correspondence? (I recommend doing that, too, even with technology). Other people are also doing this long-distance dating thing from what I hear. Unfortunately, for some of them, it turns out to be a scam. Can you believe that? A scam! It’s called catfishing. Or, to catfish. There’s a movie and TV show about it now. Both called Catfish.

Catfishing is trying to find love online and someone totally misrepresenting themselves as someone else. I couldn’t imagine doing that. Life is too short to lie about anything and to not be yourself. It’ll come back to bite you if you do. Just look at the case of the Notre Dame football player, Manti Te'o. Lying about having a girlfriend who dies from cancer? Really? Why? What the heck? Google that story and tell me what you think.

Meeting someone and dating long distance takes trust. And, honesty on both sides. Pics and videos are helpful. Along with the talking on the phone. Long distance rates aren’t like they used to be…most everyone can afford some talk time. You can hear a lot in a person’s voice. And, hopefully enough to know if they are sincere and good people. Or, if there’s something fishy about them. Catfish fishy.

Have you ever been in a long distance relationship? Five Eleven and I have found the link above (dating long distance) to have helpful ideas. What has helped you? Would you ever date someone long distance? How long would you wait before you met them? Please share!

@Ybbeige (follow me on Twitter - you just can't date me)

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com

Unexpectations on Kindle

Forever Changed

I wrote this in response to the shooting in Connecticut that killed 27 people.

Having lost two children of my own, I understand the fragility of life. I try to rejoice and celebrate every moment that I have with my two girls. Not only do I tell them often that I love them, but I try to show them in everything that I do.

My heart is so saddened by yesterday’s shooting in Connecticut. I feel like a ripple went through the universe tearing into the mesh of mankind and humanity. The grief of so many parents, families and friends can be felt by all.

           

Years ago, I took this picture of Little One looking like a little imp with a dear friend that
I lost to cancer. Too wonderful a soul to have been taken so soon. No one should ever
feel the pain of losing someone they love too soon. For whatever reason.

I cry just thinking about the cowardice and instability of the young man who senselessly took innocent lives. If you don’t want to live, don’t take that option away from others. I know I shouldn’t wish ill upon others, but at this moment I do. I hope that if there is a hell, that he is in the worst one imaginable. It won’t take away the pain being felt, but it seems like there is a slight consolation in that thought.

I wish I could hug everyone affected by this horrible tragedy and make their hurt go away. Their lives are forever changed. As are ours. I can only hope that a new message is sent through the universe. A message of changing thoughts. Of delicate lives. Of kindness. Of peace and love for ourselves and others. A strong enough message felt by enough people that we can change the world. Yea. The world where I talk about fluffy bunnies and happy rainbows. Is that too much to hope for? Is that too much to ask?

How Big is Your Beaver?

So, the other day, Five Eleven showed me the cutest Youtube video. It was called ‘Beaver waves hi to a little kid.’ I’m trying to figure out if the beaver was slipping off the glass and it looked like it was waving, or was it actually waving? Can we now add beavers to the realm of animals like dolphins and chimpanzees?

I know they are curious animals. I remember canoeing alone in a small New England lake once and I was stalked by a beaver. I could see it watching me. It would be on one side of me, then next thing I know, it would be somewhere else. Then, I’d unknowingly get too close to its next spying spot and it would slam its tail on the surface of the water and scare the bejeebees out of me.

I’ve always liked beavers but that term has more than one connotation. And, yes, I like all the definitions. Beaver, as the critter Castor canadensis here in North America, or beaver, as a reference to the female genitalia.

I have never got a picture of a beaver, just beaver dams. Because, as I said,
they'd probably scare the crap out of me and I'd drop my camera in the water or something.

So, that brought me to another memory. Once upon a time, I was on the Board of Directors for an environmental group. We were having a meeting with the woman who would be the new Project Coordinator, a position I had previously held for many years. (I may have to write about that in the future and how I beat Al Gore out for an environmental award we were both in the running for. My resume actually says exactly that. “Beat Al Gore for Environmental Award.” Not everyone can say that.)

Anyway, our small Board was gathered in a casual setting with big comfy leather furniture, because that’s what kind of group we were. Our new Project Coordinator was telling us about her collection of taxidermy animals that she had (with the license to actually have them). Since her role would be going into schools and teaching kids about being good earth stewards, I thought this was a wonderful addition to have. She told us about the kinds of animals she had, which honestly, I can’t remember anything else but one. The beaver.

Sorry I don't have any more exciting beaver pics than this.
Came out of a giant ClipArt book I have.

I was so excited that she had one and I knew they could vary in size from about 35 to 75 pounds. So, without thinking, I asked her the question that could only be brought up in this exact situation. The question that would otherwise only be used in some skanky sex chatroom.

“How big is your beaver?”

I’m sure she answered me, or us, at the time. I, however, was so distracted by one of the other female Board members who suddenly left the room without even excusing herself, that I couldn’t tell you the answer. At a break soon after, I went outside to check on her. We’ll call her Lisa. Lisa was outside in the cold, brisk air. Tears were streaming down her face.

I went to console her because that’s what I do, but soon realized that she was crying because she was laughing so hard. You know when someone tries to tell you something so funny and you can’t understand what in the heck they are saying because they are laughing so hard and you end up laughing with them just because they are laughing? That’s what happened.

Yea. It was one of those moments. When I finally got the gist of why she was laughing, like her, I was now an uncontrollable mess. All I could think was, ‘Oh my god! How could I not have realized that I asked another woman how big her beaver was?’

I think, in this rare instance, in this moment of taxidermy conversation, that this was the only moment in the history of mankind where one woman could honestly and innocently ask another, “How big is your beaver?” You try that, Al Gore.

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com
Married Woman Coming Out Story

Two Halves Make a Whole

Thoughts go through our minds when we are with the one we love...

@Ybbeige
http://facebook.com/barbarabeige
www.barbarabeige.com

Born to Surf: Just Haven’t Done It Yet

Even late in November, I’ve been eyeing the surfers off the coast of Maine…yes, they’re in wetsuits, but dang it, they’re surfing!

Do you ever feel like you’d be really good at something? Something you just keep Jonesin’ to do? Something you were born to do? My thing is surfing. Last year, I was going to try it with a friend but we just couldn’t coordinate our schedules with the waves then the drop in temps and my lack of a wet suit.

There hasn’t been a day in the last year and then some where I’ve seen big waves and haven’t just dreamed about riding them. I’ve been loving boogie boarding the last several years which I think is close. The bigger the waves, the better. Got the whole reading the ocean and paddling to catch the big ones down. Seems to me that surfing is just an extension of that…just need to stand up while catching that wave. And since I always do a push up off the board when I come in, I know I could get up on a longer board without a problem.

Summer of 2011. That's Ocean Hair, Baby!

It’s hard for me to explain the sheer joy that I feel when I’m in the water riding a wave…even if it has only been on a boogie board. The few times I went out to do that this summer were the only times when I haven’t felt my head pound from my head injury in May. 

Catching my breath between rides on an awesome boogie boarding day.

I know that I have some more healing to do before I can go surfing. There’s that whole balance thing that is kind of an issue. Seems rather necessary on a surf board. I keep walking on the beach. One of my neurologists said that it’s great to help with balance (and I suppose if I was to fall, it’s rather soft). Can’t beat walking on one of my favorite places in the world.

You can't tell me this wouldn't be fun?

Not sure how a girl from Upstate New York (the way upstate, not the just out of NYC upstate) can have such a love of the ocean. Maybe it’s my water sign (Cancer – the crab)? Maybe it was from summers spent playing in the big waves of Lake Ontario? Not sure exactly what it is, but the taste of the salt water on my lips and the way I feel so at home in the water just adds to the feeling I get when I think about surfing.

Yea. I'll be doing that soon.

And for now, it’s a goal for me. Not that I can rush the healing that my brain still needs to do, but it’s something I’m looking forward to. Really looking forward to. Even if I haven’t done it yet, I will. After all, I was born to surf.

Is there something you feel you were born to do? Are you doing it? Please share!

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com

http://www.amazon.com/Unexpectations-Barbara-Beige/dp/1457504162

But, You Look Fine…

One of the hardest parts of having this head injury has been fighting what others say. I wrote about it once and I’m still dealing with it. Since day one, I’ve heard, “But, you look fine.” For the most part, yea, I look in the mirror and see that same person that had been there before (minus a little spark in my eyes). I like to joke and say that I can’t help being so adorable…I was born that way. I guess if I had ended up splitting my head open and having some sort of disfiguring injury, I might elicit a bit more sympathy.

I may look fine on the outside. Inside...not so much.

It’s hard for friends, and even family, to look at me and think that I’ve got something wrong going on. “You look fine,” they say. What no one sees is the extreme thought and energy that I need to use now to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. When I have to focus and concentrate on doing something, I end up absolutely exhausted. Like I ran a marathon. I’ll have to take a nap that may be longer than the amount of time it took to do the task. Seems stupid, I know, especially when I used to be the Queen of Multi-Tasking. The previous me would think it was stupid too. But, to those with post-concussive syndrome, or PCS, this is normal.

Being able to take a short walk a few times a week is a success. I’m trying to work my way up to a mile. For me, that seems crazy. Especially when it’s on relatively flat ground, too. Like the beach. I miss my days of hiking. Doing the 4,000+ footers in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Going out on those trails that say they are only for the most experienced of hikers. The ones where if you fall in a crevice, you’ll need rope to climb out. The ones where if you fall, you have to do everything in your power to grab hold of a root or something to stop your sliding descent. The ones where you bring survival gear just because you never know what situation you’ll run into or what weather may blow in. Now, I walk a hundred feet or so and rest a few moments. You can’t tell me that isn’t frustrating.

This is a goal of mine...to be able to stand on top of a mountain again.

Admitting your limitations to yourself is hard. Knowing what you used to be capable of doing and comparing it to what you can do now is hard. I look like I should be able to walk any distance or even go for a run. I look like I should be able to work. I look like I could mow my own lawn. I look like I could go out in a noisy restaurant or bar and meet up with people. I look like I could be in a store for more than 40 minutes. I look like I could ride a bike. I look like I could vacuum my house without earplugs. I look like… I look like I could do a lot of things. But, right now still, I can’t.

A friend of mine, who is also a psychologist, has been a wonderful support in this whole, ‘But, you look fine’ thing. He has Lyme Disease. I’ll call him Jim. To the average person, Jim is a good-looking, normal guy. No spots, no bulls-eyes on his face. He’s smart and funny. He’s a normal Joe. Or, Jim. Because of the Lyme, he has fare-ups where he is absolutely exhausted, where his clothes feel like they’re made out of sandpaper, where he has excruciating headaches. But, he looks fine. People with cancer can also look fine, another friend pointed out. Ask them how fine they feel.

This isn’t a case of mind-over-matter either. It’s just a brain injury. A real, honest-to-goodness invisible injury that is just taking its own sweet time to heal. I know that I’m better off than a lot of people who have had concussions. And, I’m worse off than others. I’m thanking my lucky stars that I can still write and spell (though, I do actually mess that up often these days and as a writer and Boggle and Scrabble psycho, that’s tough). I can function on my own for most daily tasks. Thanks to all my friends who have helped me with the tasks I just can’t do. I can still drive. I can still laugh and smile, though I don’t always understand things like I used to. Especially if I wasn’t fully concentrating on what someone was saying.

So, if you see me, or someone else with a silent illness, give that person a little slack, or maybe a little help. Just because we may look fine, it doesn’t mean we really are.

Do you or someone you know “look fine” but aren’t and are going through a similar situation? Please share below.

@Ybbeige

http://facebook.com/barbarabeige

www.barbarabeige.com

http://www.amazon.com/Unexpectations-Barbara-Beige/dp/1457504162