Buffy Verse. . .

Okay hold on to your hats, it's cryptic Buffy verse writing time. Tonight Gil and I are going into Sunnydale for training with my watcher and Wesly. It's a spur of the moment session brought on by much unrest in the system. However my skills as slayer are getting quite good, good reflexes, strength etc. so it's actually getting exciting. It's nice to see change and be able to say okay I am moving ahead even though sometimes I'm so impatient with myself that I demand better and in a sense shoot my self in the foot. Sometimes it's nice too just to have a watcher who understands you and your own tendencies, who can call it and say "you are looking too much ahead, or you are looking too much behind." I guess as in all things staying present in the here and now is the most important thing and the hardest.

So the past few days I have been going watching the Buffy series because it is so funny, and at times it speaks truth into my life and keeps me going and fighting the good fight. This is one of my favorite Buffy quotes. It's when she has just messed up really really badly and is feeling ashamed and disappointed in herself. So she projects these feelings and these judgements that she has on herself to Giles; assuming that he too must be feeling this way about her. So she asks (afraid of the answer), "You must be so disappointed in me?" Half question half statement. It must be so because she feels that way about herself so how can anyone else see things different. I know for me when I fail that is exactly where I go, to that place of shame and complete and utter disappointment in myself, and I assume that everyone around me must feel the exact same. However Giles' response is one that has been afforded to me through my own watcher as of late, a response that allows healing and growth and perspective. It is my favorite quote and it goes as follows:

"Do you want me to wag my finger at you and say you acted rashly? You did, and I can, but you couldn't have known what would happen. The next few months are going to be very hard, I suspect on all of us, but if you're looking for guilt I'm not your man. All you will get from me is my support. . . and my respect."

Sniff, weep, cry. When support is offered so unconditionally like that despite the rash things we do and allow to be done, despite the consequences that therefore may rain down upon us all and make all our lives more difficult, when respect and support are offered like this they truly become healing gifts that allow for growth. That allows slayers like me to keep up the patrol and keep taking down the bad guys and facing the demons of the night. It allows us to get up every day and take a breath and have hope that down the road we can offer such gifts to ourselves and others around us that find their way into our lives with a need of some healing. Because I have been called to a time to heal, but down the road I am envisioning a time that I can participate and help in someone else's time to heal. Just as we are given, we need to give.

The Strong Stuff. . .

Well after a boring March break, Gil and I succumbed to the dreaded flu. No thankfully not the bird flu that kills, just the regular kind that incapacitates you and wreaks havoc on the body. It seemed to hit us adults harder and it lasted longer than when the children had it, which is strange since usually the flu has the opposite effect, but it started with me and then hit Gil and so we began to walk around hacking and hacking with a cough that would not quit. Maybe we were so worn out taking care of the children but it just seemed to linger until more serious infections developed, something that didn't happen with the children.

Gil developed an ear infection and I developed pneumonia. So off to the local clinic we went for some anti-biotics. Still running on very little sleep, having spent a week getting up in the night with the kids, each in turn and then unable to sleep because of my wonderful but hacking hubby, I had begun to look like the walking dead (not just feel like it). When it was my turn to see the friendly physician the concern on his face was quite evident. He expresed his dismay upon listening to my fluid filled lungs, and then proceeded to tell me how worn out I looked. Then when he was prescribing the needed medication, he added that he was also giving me a prescription for a stronger cough supressent so that I could get some sleep. The pharmacist too looked appalled at my condition and added that this was the really strong stuff, the good kind that will really knock you off your feet and allow you to finally stop coughing and get some rest.

So that night when we were finally able to try to sleep at the wee hours of midnight we took our medication (I gave some of the strong stuff to Gil so that we could both get a good night sleep), and the mayham began.

First it was Christopher up in the night wining and complaining, which by the way he has not done since he was six weeks old. I tried to settle him down first to no avail, and when he still voiced his discontent Gil proceeded to take a turn. However no amount of tempra, or burping, or rocking, or cooing, would do the trick so I relented. He must be having a growth spurt and therefore was hungry so I agreed to feed the rascal.

At this time it was 3:00 am, and on my way downstairs to make the infants bottle, I pass Dickens the Cat. This devious trouble-maker has been known to jump at feet (especially mine), so I stepped leerily away from him and thought to my self, "that's odd he looks like he has a floppy mouse in his mouth", ah and so he did. Gil had to be roused and dispatched to spend the next half hour chasing the mouser down to retrive the now dead mouse and dispose of it elsewhere.

I who at this point am still feeding the boy-child say good-night again to the cat chaser who goes off to bed, while the cat a little peeved at losing his toy begins to lament in the form of a low gutteral howl the fact that his fun has been tossed away. After fifteen minutes he settles down and then I say to my self "I think I hear Elizabeth screaming for her life upstairs" and once again I was correct. I hear Elizabeth screaming for her life upstairs, however the strong stuff must have hit Gil because although the blood-curdling screams have awoken and sufficently scared the entire household, and perhpas even the neighbourhood, he is not waking up.

Here I am downstairs in the dark trying to preserve a quiet dark atmosphere so that said boy-child will be able to fall right back asleep after he partakes of his late night snack, and Gil shirking his parental role by of all things SLEEPING. (Just because he had a horrible flu but, been up with the kids every night for two weeks, and had just taken a dose of very strong cough supressant---Geesh!) We hollared, howled and bellowed but to no avail, this only succeeded in waking Christopher up more and so finally my eldest girl climbs out of her top-bunk, stomps into our room, and shakes her father back to conciousness. I hear him lumber into the girls room his footsteps echoing his frusteration, he quiets the screaming girl down and returns to bed.

Christopher has eaten and now is wide awake wanting to play, but I am exhausted so I tuck him into his crib awake and hope he'll settle down now that his tummy is full.

A half hour later, finally I begin to drift off to sleep, my heart has stopped galloping, my head is beginning that dreamy transcendence into unconscienceness when low and behold another screaming child!!!!!! My heart attempts to leap right out of my poor sick body, where it wanted to reside I don't know, but since I am trying to breathe again I wake up poor sick Gil, who once again goes on consolation duty, Christopher awakes with his sisters deafening screaming and begins to babble like Daffy Duck; although the sound normally would be endearing it is now five a.m. and we are both aware that in less that two hours this day will start again. So relunctantly I make the decision to turn the monitor off trusting that if my son really needs me, I will hear him. As Gil returns to our cozy bed for the umpteenth time that night I say to him, "It really doesn't matter how strong the strong stuff is when you have four kids does it?"

When It's Close to Home. . .

I always find it amusing when you see and hear people on the news saying "Things like that don't happen here, it's a quiet community." I find it amusing because it seems that every community says that, yet today I find myself shocked, dismayed repulsed and saying to myself "How could that happen here in our small quiet community?" Yet it has -- the unthinkable.

Children and their mother murdered blocks away from where we live. I wonder at how many countless times have I passed that house, driving to my bank, driving Jessica to school. Have I run into or met this family on my many many excursions for groceries, to rent movies, at the gas station? Did she ever cut my hair, or Gils, or style Jessica's? Did my children go to school with the children here? I wonder also what possible darkness could possess a father to do such a horrendous thing?

Unfortunately in the world these horrible crimes occur, and darkness lingers everywhere, it does not respect community but attacks at will. It does happen daily, children and mothers are victimized all the time and usually because it is the more anonymous cities we don't hear about it and so we feel we can ignore it. Then it happens in your own backyard and you realize that pain and suffering are everywhere. On the street down the road, a few blocks away, perhaps next door or across the street, people are being hurt daily and we need to start paying attention. No matter what anyone says there are signs, maybe small signs but signs none the less; nothing happens in a vacuum. We need to pay attention to these signs no matter what kind of a community we live in. We need to start seeing past what our eyes tell us, and our hearts want to believe. We long to see innocence so we refuse to stop and listen to what is really going on so that we can see the truth and maybe intervene and prevent such crimes before they hit.

Those children had a future, a promise of a tomorrow and now they are gone, they are just memories and we have to take a stand and stop allowing our chidren to be taken away from us before they have a chance to really live.

My prayers are with the extended family of this house, her parents and their grand-parents. My prayers are also with the father "May God have mercy upon you. Something horrible must be tormenting you to lead you to such depravity, cruelty and lack of mercy. I sincerely hope that you can find God for His forgiveness, and mercy is all you can pray for now. He has a special place for children in his heart and so if there is no remorse He will have a special place assigned for you too."

My New Hair 

My New Hair From Jessica's View 

Hair Update

Well it looks like style five has won the majority of votes. So unless there are some last minute vote irregularities and ballot-box stuffing that is the look I'm going for. I am off at noon tomorrow with Christopher who will spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa while Mommie relaxs at the salon. So I will update with pictures in the next few days. Thanx for taking the time to vote.