Why Do The Good Die Young?

While doing my usual scans of other's blogs, I came across one so touching that I added it to my MUST READ list. His entry was about a storm, the force of mother nature and how it puts life in perspective. What I failed to see, was the entry was from a dying man. He so graciously visited my site after receiving my comment. We've exchanged a couple of emails and comments now.

Today, I was surprised to see an email from what feels a old friend. I had mentioned in a message about our experience when the boys' father passed away. He responded asking some personal questions about our experience.

I'm unsure what length of time he has remaining on this earth, but do hope he sticks around for awhile. I was honest in my responses that although I understood their father's choice, that he had endured all the pain he could stand and his quality of life was going to diminish so greatly that he hardly considered it a life.

With most of my posts, the last thing I expected was an email from someone asking me my thoughts as a loved one left behind how difficult it was on me. I always thought I'd fill a void of Erma Bombeck, not Oprah.

I do hope my newfound friend chooses to hang around with us for awhile still, but I did assure him that the selfishness in the human nature doesn't make that journey easy for either side.

Based upon my experiences lately with many people, I'm left wondering where did our quality of life really go? I didn't see any quality in the people I passed, and most of them didn't seem worthy of being missed...so why is it someone that inspires others is taken so soon, while others, fester, recreate, and cause general misery to those around them for many, many, many years.

Drowning in the Fishtank of Denial

Just how long can someone swim before they need to surface for air? How long before "enthusiast" reaches fanatical? Not sure, but know I'm drowning in the fishtank of denial. What is that point when a hobby goes over the top, and no matter how many euphemisms one can create, no longer adequately describe the situation?

Let's just say, I know a few fish "enthusiasts". Don't get me wrong, fish are wonderful, relaxing, calming creatures. However, what do you do when said person has not one, not even five, but an entire room designated for fish tanks, as well as those display tanks that decorate the rest of the house. Most times, I humor myself, reminding myself often that at the fish auctions, they declare themselves enthusiasts. I've seen lately though the look of concern from people when they stop by to visit. I can see the wheels spinning, and I don't believe enthusiast is the word that is coming to their mind.

In an effort to help me remain in my sea of denial, I've seen changes in the social network, that I can EASILY find as fanatical. It's just downright strange.

The scariest part to me, is I've now begun witnessing my children recite the savings per trip for more supplies and equipment. Never would I have thought fish could be so needy. (Clearly you can see I don't share the enthusiasm.) Did you know, they require water changes constantly, and not only demanding clean water, but requiring you to test it to assure its up to their standards. They can't even clean up after themselves.

Here I thought they merely needed a tank, water, and a ugly plastic treasure chest that bubbled occasionally. The fish in Finding Nemo were definitely less demanding than any I've seen in recent times. Fish are more time and energy than any newborn baby; the only advantage is not having to get up in the middle of the night for feedings.

I better stop before I can no longer justify the word enthusiast and have no choice by to face the fact that maybe I'm dealing with a few fanatics.

A Break from the Usual Postings

Hmmm, I'm beginning to see a trend here at Blogger, not a bad thing just something that came to my attention. I've noticed since I began consistently posting new entries the changes in the AdSense choices. When I vent about my neighbor "Eddie Haskell" or lately Malibu Most wannabe, the ads pop up for psychotherapy; when I post about my own kids, A.D.H.D. ads appear. My post earlier today about my morning adventure raised a bit of concern to me. Life Insurance popped up, hmmm, what are they trying to tell me?

I hope no one took my blog entry so literally as to call the authorities on me. I can assure you all the children survived this morning's entertaining escapades. I fought the urge of those thoughtless daydreams of being single with no children. Honestly, I'm in it for the long haul, just occasionally have to question my own sanity, which in itself, I remember hearing is a sign that sanity still exists. If you've heard of a different theory than that, please don't share. I'd much rather drown in my sea of denial.

When Mom's Go Wild!

If you heard of a small 3.2 earthquake in San Jose, have no fear, it was merely me, snapping as my last nerve had been stomped on, ripped out and torn to shreds. I'm usually a very mild mannered individual, kind and caring. That all changed at about 11:04 AM. After two non-stop hours of "stop touching me!" STOP!!! Stop it. Follow that with stalking their prey; meaning older brother chasing after his younger brother to torment him further. It amazes me, Pavlov's dogs learned at a much quicker rate than I witnessed this morning.

I grew up with two older brothers, so I can sympathize, to a point. I don't recall chasing my brothers after they tormented me endlessly. I also was able to read them well, knowing exactly at what point I could push an issue before they exploded in rage. It benefited me, survival skills I believe is what most would consider them.

Ironically this morning I saw a post about sibling rivalry, and just four simple steps to stop it. Please! Apparently, if the expert was a parent, she must have only one child. I can buy that sibling rivalry is "normal", but to what extent before it is completely over the top.

It would be considered insane by some, but I finally had to point out to a child that one of the benchmarks for my success as a parent was helping them survive to adulthood, and that I was going to need his help in reaching that milestone. He had pushed every possible button in each and every brother, and honestly, I didn't realize how many buttons they actually had until this point. I saw rage like never before in three people, I thought I actually did see the steam coming from the ears of one, another looked like he was having a fit much like seen in Roger Rabbit.

Finally I have calm, for a moment. I'm relishing the silence, as I know it's not long lasting. One thing that does concern me with the timing of the fits of rage; the phone company is tearing out our driveway to solve one of their on-going phone line issues, and I saw children with a measuring tape trying to scope out the size of the hole. I'll be really concerned if they also start measuring their brother's proportions to see if it's a fit. More concerned should be the child that caused the complete meltdown of all around him, but he's having too much fun, I'm sure plotting out his next attack, and sizing up possible victims himself.

So, if any of you figure out how Pavlov's whole system worked, let me know...I'm running out of creative solutions to the sibling rivalry that seems to be raising our roof.

Too Close for Comfort

Nothing like a near death experience to remind one of their blessings in life. I definitely have someone kind enough to be watching over me lately. In the words of my dad, I guess it wasn't my time to go yet.

Last week while frantically looking for information to assist us in caring for my father-in-law, I stumbled onto a possible ghost writing opportunity. Later I landed my first partnership with a local pet store, where they will link my virtual art gallery to their website as well as display brochures and samples in their store. The scoop, I've been willing to hand over my first born child for either of these opportunities.

Then Sunday night, for some unknown reason, at least at the time, everyone was still awake in the house, way past the normal hour. Just as I was beginning to doze off, the sound of my son frantically screaming "fire" brought me back from the edge. Apparently out of all places, a fire had been ignited under the kitchen sink. After struggling with fuses, we found the one to cut power to the garbage disposal, and finally regain control of the situation. Three sleepy children swearing never to sleep again, EVER, adults ready to fall over with exhaustion, struggling to maintain calm and sanity.

I was somewhat surprised, and very grateful when I awoke the next morning, house still intact, and the ability to find someone to assist with the problem. Maybe to some my ordeal was minimal, I am just grateful that this happened when it did, and not much later, as we would have all been deep asleep, and the damage could have been life altering, devastating. I know we all sleep very sound, and honestly I'm not sure we could have escaped. The situation grew almost uncontrollable quite quickly.

By Monday morning, I was back on track with the Gratitude List and definitely on my knees. I do know something was watching over us. In my mind there is no other plausible explanation, and whomever that presence was, I'm indebted forever to them, and wouldn't be surprised if they are one of the Five People Waiting for me when I get to the other side.