Cheer Up!

My apologies for the bah humbug post yesterday.  I promise I will not post any more open complaints...well, at least not until after the new year!   In fact, I thought I would share some of the funny stuff the boys have said recently just to lighten the mood.  Without further ado...

One day when my mom brought Jacob from her house to ours, it looked as if he didn't wear any shoes home.  She explained that he had stepped in dog dirt in her yard and that she put the shoes on my porch.  A few days later Jacob, Andrew and I got into the car to go somewhere.  I thought the car smelled bad, so I asked Jake if he was wearing his dog poop shoes.  "No, Mom!  I'm not" he insisted.  After a few moments of silence, he then offered, "Maybe you stepped in Sophie's S.H.I.T."
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Andrew peed the bed two Fridays in a row, which is odd for him.  He's not a regular bed wetter.  Of course, I changed his sheets and put him back to sleep.  Not much else you can do about it.  Two Fridays ago Andrew came into my room while I was changing my sheets.  "Are your sheets dirty?" he asked.

"Yeah."  I said.
"Who peed your bed?"
"Daddy," I said, and that was the end of the conversation.    It's my practice to blame as much as possible on Daddy!

The following night, Andrew stayed with our neighbor.  Because he had wet the bed twice, I sent a pull-up with him.  I didn't want him to pee in her bed.  He didn't like the pull up and didn't want to wear it.  She told him it was OK if he peed the bed, that everyone peed the bed sometimes.  "I bet your mom even pees the bed once in a while," she said.  "No," he replied, "but my dad does."  Ah...maybe it's not such a good idea to blame things on poor, unsuspecting Dad all the time!  Haha!
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One night last week I told Andrew I was dragging.  "Mom!  No you're not!  Dragons have fire coming out of their mouths and say 'ROAR!'"
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Andrew has recently been blaming his bad behaviors on other people.  He says that Jake, Greg or even the cat is the culprit just to get out of trouble.  Yesterday I sat down with him and said, "Andrew, you're not telling me the truth when you say someone else took the ornaments off the tree.  You're lying, and we don't lie."  I gave him a little spiel about being honest and he stared at me wide-eyed the whole time.  When I was done, I said "Do you understand?"  "Well," he said, "if I'm a lion do I say roar and bite people?"  Hmm...lying/lion, I see where the misunderstanding came from.   I think the meaning he took from my speech was a little different than the meaning I intended him to grasp.   Maybe he's still a little young for the lie vs truth concept!
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One day Jake said, "Mom, if I go hunting with Greg, do I get to wear that mask that makes me look like a killer?"

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Both of my boys are sweet addicts.  It's not a good thing, but they get it honestly.  I can turn down chips any day, but if you put a bowl of chocolates in front of me, I guarantee you I will eat several, if not all of them!  Andrew has gotten especially bad about eating recently.  He isn't just eating a lot of junk, he's also refusing to eat meals.  To counter the junk food junkie in him, we have been encouraging him to eat good foods that will make him bigger.  He loves the idea of growing stronger, so it works fairly well.  One day he asked me if chocolate would make him bigger.  "No," I said.  "It'll make you fat."
"Fat like you?"  he asked.
"Mom's not fat," Greg said (smart man, isn't he).
"Oh yes she is!" said Andrew.
Lovely.  I have fully succeeded in transferring my body image issues to my children.  At least his image discrepancy is with my body, not his own.
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Jake has been Chatty Cathy lately.  I'm not sure what has gotten into him, but he talks from the moment he gets up until the moment he goes to bed.  Most of the time he is talking about the cat, cartoons or the comic strip he is writing.  When we went to get our tree, it was no different.  The boys and I sat in the car while Greg loaded up the tree.  Jake went on and on and on about his comic strip.  It's interesting.  I like hearing his ideas, but after a while, I go a little cross-eyed.  At one point, I was only half listening and I heard him say, "and that's the one I'm going to title 'Sophie the Fat Ass.'"
"What?"  I said.  "You can't call your comic strip Sophie the fat ass!"
"Well, she is a fat ass."
"True enough."
(Sophie is my mom's dog, if you were wondering)
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Andrew: "Mom, do you know where chicks live?"
Me: "Um...in the water."
Andrew: "No!  In Hollidaysburg!"
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Jacob goes to Catholic school.  One of his recent homework projects involved me reading some passages from the bible to him.  We read the story of Noah's Ark and he was to draw an ark on his worksheet.  He said, "An ark?  Like a boat?"
"Yeah," I said, not believing that he didn't know what an ark was.  "You know, Noah's Ark.  The big boat."
"Oh, the one with all the animals?"  he said.
"Um, yeah...you don't know the story of Noah's Ark???"
"Oh yeah, I know it.  I saw it once on Tom and Jerry."
There are two major flaws with this, the first and worst falling on me.  How could a Christian mother not tell her child the story of Noah's Ark?  Surely that isn't right?  He has several children's bibles and bible story books.  I must have read him the story at some point, right?  But also, how can this kid go to Catholic school and get his bible information from Tom and Jerry?!  Good grief.  That's almost as bad as the time my friend Danielle told me that she "heard about Jesus being born in a barn."  Oh my....
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I'm going to Florida for a week with my neighbor in January.  You can be jealous, I would be! A few nights ago I asked Andrew what he wanted me to bring him back from the beach.  He said, "Oh, just a toy and some beer."  Ah yes, the simple things in life!


That's all I've got for now.  Four long days of work ahead of me this week, and then a nice long break until January 3rd.  Then 4 days of work followed by a week in Florida...I can feel my mood beginning to lighten!  

What Do I Do With A Quiet Christmas Season?

This year the holiday season has been much lower key than in the years past.  I'm not exactly sure why.  Greg had to work on the day of his company party, so we didn't go.  I missed another friend's party last weekend because I just wasn't feeling up to it.  I haven't made any concrete plans to catch up with my Pittsburgh gals yet. It seems like December was already half over before it even started.  Did you notice that my Christmas cards were not the first ones to arrive this year?  It's not because they weren't ready.  It's because I forgot about them!  I am usually really on top of things, but not this year.  I also forgot to give Jacob money for the Santa's Secret Workshop at school.  He came home last week and said, "Mom, you forgot to give me money for Santa's workshop.  I only had $1.11 of my own money, so I could only buy a gift for Andrew."  What on earth is wrong with me???  I felt so bad.  I actually started sobbing while telling a friend at work about it, especially when I thought about the fact that Jacob seems to hate Andrew most of the time, but he still chose to spend his only money on his little brother.  What a sweet boy.  I'm so sorry he's stuck with an asshole mother.

There are lots of things I should be doing, but I am seriously lacking motivation.  I don't know if it's laziness or what exactly is causing my mental lapses, but I have almost adopted a attitude of complete apathy.  My Halloween pumpkins are STILL on my front porch, along with the few pitiful Christmas things that I put out.  I didn't even get out most of my Christmas decorations.  I opened the boxes, looked at them, and put them right back into storage.  I'm done with 3/4 of my fall cleaning, and I've lost the drive to finish the rest.  Is it really necessary?  I mean, is anyone going to look inside my china closet to see if I wiped down the shelves?  Well, you will now if you come over, just because I posted about it.  Damn it.  Now I have to clean the china closet.  I'll do it tomorrow.   And when did I start putting off cleaning?  Goodness, when I'm feeling stressed, usually a bottle of Clorox is all I need to get me back on track.  Something isn't right.

Earlier in the month, looking forward at our schedule, I was extremely grateful for the lull.  This time of year is always so hectic and I typically feel like I'm going to burst from the stress of all the gatherings, so I thought I would enjoy a calmer pace.  Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for calm over chaos any day, but I think it has actually given me much more time to think about all the things that tend to get me down this time of year.  I'm really not feeling Christmasy at all.  I can (and do) fake it for the boys (I'm including Greg in that grouping, because when it comes to Christmas, he is one big kid!  And he has very sweetly hidden a gift for me to find every day for the last 5 days.  Aw.)  Who wants to be around someone who is all depressed and whiny anyway?  So, I'm done now.  That's the extent of my whine.  Yes, I'll have some cheese with it, thank you.

I posted a Christmas playlist for those of you who requested it.  It's as close to last year's as I can get.  I must have deleted the old one and I couldn't remember exactly what was on it.  Hope this one is OK.  It's the best you're getting out of this old Scrooge this year.  Maybe the spirits of Christmas past, present and future will inspire me a little more next year!

Let's Get It On...

...but only in a monogamous relationship and not on public television!  

Let me start this by saying I am not a prude.  I like sex.  In fact, I really like it.  I like having sex, talking about it and joking about it.  There are a few things that I think are just universally funny and sex is definitely one of them…or it can be.  But the topic can also be approached in some very distasteful ways, in my opinion.  That said, I have a real problem with two of the shows currently on TLC.  One is Sister Wives and the other is Virgin Diaries.  Ew, Ew, Ew to both of these shows.  

A few weeks ago I was flipping through the channels and came across Sister Wives.  It’s not a new show, and I had seen many commercial previews. I decided to watch it for about 15 minutes.  I didn’t realize that this man kept each of his wives in her own house, and then just randomly went to visit each woman individually.  I always assumed that he and the women all lived under one roof.  They all had these huge, magnificent homes.  What one earth does this guy do for a living?  I can't imagine having one of those houses, let alone supporting multiple families under such awesome conditions!  Really, it doesn’t matter.  I thought the whole thing was disgusting.  At one point they were traveling somewhere, the whole family.  He checked the wives and kids into their rooms in the hotel and then wandered from room to room, gathering their keys so that he could “have access” to his women.  The TV show intersperses interviews with scenes from the family's real life, and during part of an interview, one of the women said, “Of course he gets access to us, we’re his wives.”  

Oh my God!  First of all, Greg does not “have access” to me nor do I have access to him.  What the heck does that mean exactly?  It makes them sound like property.  I share my life and my bed with my husband out of a mutual respect and a mutual desire.  Sure, there are times when one of us wants sex more than the other, and we accommodate each other because life is a compromise, even in the bedroom, but I would never ever view that as “giving him access” to me.  He doesn't get to have me just because he is my husband.  He gets to have me, because we love each other...and if the house is a mess and I'm stressed out, well, he might not get to have me at all!! 

Secondly, how on earth could you share your husband with 3 or 4 (or whatever the total is) other women?  Ew, ew, ew again!  That’s just wrong on so many levels.  What if one of those other women had some kind of disease?  You’re exposing yourself willingly to any of their infections or problems on a regular basis. And that’s the least of it.  I cannot for one minute imagine being OK with knowing that my husband was sharing the most intimate part of our relationship with several other women.  I would constantly be wondering who he liked the best, who was better at what, who he found most attractive, how I measured up.  I could not lay there afterwards, sharing soft caresses and sweet words, knowing that he could have done the same thing with someone else just before he arrived at my house.  Those are not moments meant for more than two people. 

I am not a jealous person.  I never have been.  To me, jealousy is more about trust in your partner than anything else.  I don’t care if Greg wears his wedding band or not. I don’t have a need to “mark” him as my own, because the decision to uphold our marriage vows is his, regardless of a ring, and I trust him completely.  I don’t see how that kind of trust would be possible in polygamous marriage.  I don’t believe that it is possible to love 4 wives the same as you love one.  I’m sure that their relationships, just like everyone else’s, are based on much more than sex alone, but let’s face it, sex is a big part of any relationship, and it’s not a part that should be shared with anyone except one another. Just the title “Sister Wives” is disgusting.  Why on earth would I want to sleep with someone who was also sleeping with my sister?  Disgusting.  

And really, now that I think about it, I don't want to share the other aspects of my marital relationship with anyone else either.  I love my girl friends and I don't know where I would be without them.  I actually crave time with the wonderful women in my life.  I firmly believe that to be healthy, people need relationships outside of their marriage, but when it comes down to it, Greg is my best friend.  I enjoy getting together with other couples, family, friends, etc.  I love that Greg is such a social person.  I love that everyone likes Greg, but I am able to like those aspects of our life together because I know that ultimately, aside from our children, I am the most important person in his life, as he is the most important person in mine.  I'm OK with taking second fiddle to the boys.  I should take second fiddle to them.  I would not be OK with sharing my status with another woman.  

The other show, The Virgin Diaries, is about a bunch of adults who are either about to lose their virginity by getting married, or trying to lose it.  Um…really?  You want the entire world to be a part of that?  Good grief. I thank God that no one was around to witness my first kiss except for the poor boy who had the unfortunate fate of having his first kiss with me.  It was a God-awful mess.  Although I never really thought about it, I guess I should be grateful that, unlike these sad folks on the show, I had the opportunity to fine tune my skills in high school with kids who were also refining the same skills.  I can’t imagine doing it now, as an adult, for the first time…and I’m still talking about a kiss.  

I guess I have to wonder how these people think that having a camera crew is going to help their quest.  I watched about 5 minutes of this show last night with Greg.  The man was 35 and his friends were intentionally trying to find a woman, any woman, to take the guy home.  That’s how you want to lose your virginity?  With some random bar hook-up?  That’s incredibly sad.  There’s so much more to sex than getting drunk and getting laid.  If that’s his approach, no wonder he hasn’t had any luck!  Then again, I’m actually kind of surprised that he wasn’t able to find a dumb drunken chick to drag back to his lair.  The women in the show were all over him, asking him outright disgusting questions, kissing him, crawling on him in a way that no self-respecting woman should ever do in public.  I'm certain that much of the women's behavior was for the benefit of the camera crew.  It was an easy way to 10 minutes of fame.  Honey, if that's how you want to make a name for yourself, then I really feel bad for you.  Also, I'm glad I don't know you in person.  It was so offensive that in less than 5 minutes of viewing, I turned the channel.  And I do not consider myself easily offended.  We watched Man Vs Food instead.  Greg and I would much rather watch Adam Richman cry his eyes out over ridiculously hot sushi than be witness to a balding middle aged virgin make distasteful advances on skanky women.

Perhaps I am more conservative than I believed myself to be, because these shows really got under my skin, and I’m disappointed in TLC for even airing them.  They certainly won’t be getting my viewership! 

On a lighter note, one of my coworkers brought this wonderful website into my world yesterday.  It’s a site where people have submitted the things that their auto-correct has really gotten wrong.  I think it’s absolutely hysterical, but be forewarned that most of it is really off-color. See, it’s proof that I’m truly not a prude.  I laughed so hard at some of these I cried, but like I said…it’s more than a little lewd, so click at your own risk.   Damnyouautocorrect.com

My Questions Have All Been Answered

...or at least they will be shortly.

Just for kicks at the end of the day most days, I read my horoscope to see how close it came to what actually happened to me.  Big surprise that it's generally not even close.  This is what my horoscope said for yesterday:

• Pisces (Feb 19-March 20):  Your memory will bring back strange bits of information.  There's a reason for these seemingly random recollections, though you may not understand it until Friday.  

Hmm...seems to me that my memory brings up "seemingly random recollections" throughout the day every day.  I often wonder if other people's minds operate in the same fashion or if I am stuck in some kind of bizarre memory loop.  Sometimes it's like being lost deep in space!  I have likened my mind to a black hole at times, and let's face it, it can feel rather vacuous in there!  Anyway, I'm glad to know that by Friday the connection of all the hodge podge of memories that have been bombarding my brain lately will be revealed.  It's about time! 

Where's The Cat?

So...last night while we were decorating the tree, I thought I saw Sam's reflection on the glass in the back door.  As I looked closer, I realized that wasn't a reflection at all, but that Sam was actually outside on the deck! I freaked out and yelled, "Oh no!  The cat got out!"  We all scurried to the door.  Greg yelled at me, "You need to be more careful with that outside cat box!" (Yes, we actually have an outside cat box.  It's awesome...sort of).  I flung open the door only to see someone else's short haired white cat with a long black and gray striped tail jump off of the other side of the deck.  Whew.  Not Sam after all.  Nope.  Sam was happily eating Christmas ornaments under our tree.

It reminded me of something that happened to my sister in high school.  One morning, my mother saw our family cat running down the street.  Mom was never a huge fan of cats, so she didn't really give a rat's ass if the cat ran away, but Megan and I loved the cats with a passion.  Megan threw on her bathrobe and ran down Spruce Street all the way to Penn Street in a pair of slippers and with her hair wrapped up in a towel, yelling after Arnie.  When she got to the bottom of the hill, the cat was gone.  Devastated, she made her way back up the hill and shuffled into the house only to find Arnie sitting in the middle of the hallway, staring at her. The stupid cat never left the house after all.

Neither did Sam.  Hmpf.

O Tannenbaum

Yesterday we made our annual trek to JB Tree Farm to fetch our Christmas tree. It was actually a wonderful day.  The kids were good, the weather was nice, we cut down the third tree we looked at, ate lunch and were home in under 2 hours.  Even putting the tree up went smoothly!  Not once did anyone say, "Fine, you're so smart, you put up the lights!" It was our own little Christmas wonderland!  OK, OK, that's not entirely true.  It was mostly a success story.  I may have yelled, "just stand in front of the damned tree for 30 seconds without fighting so that I can get one decent picture!" at the very end of the night.  Other than that, it was good.  (See pics below)

Every year when we walk through the tree farm, I think about this awful story I was told as a child.  It was about a fir tree that wanted nothing more than to be picked for someone's Christmas tree.  Year after year he watched other trees be chosen and he felt terribly sad and unwanted.  Then finally, he was big enough to be picked.  He was chopped down, dragged home and decorated.  He basked in the glory of his splendor.  What he didn't count on was that the Christmas grandeur wouldn't last.  Eventually he was stripped of his decorations and left in the attic to rot.  During his years in the attic, he made friends with the house mice and various other attic creatures.  As he told them stories of his previous life, he came to appreciate, albeit too late, the beautiful life he had in the woods.  Eventually, some men clean out the attic.  The tree thought that he was going to be celebrated again, and was thrilled.  Unfortunately, he wasn't celebrated at all, but was rather chopped up for fire wood.  The end. The moral is to appreciate what you have instead of wishing it away.  Nice message, but good grief,  what a depressing way of telling it!

I couldn't remember who wrote the story, so I Googled it today and found it.  It was  The Fir Tree Christmas Story by Hans Christian Andersen.   Had I really thought about it, I should have known that it was Andersen, because the story reeks of the same morbid intonation as  The Little Match Girl, which my grandmother read to us every single Christmas Eve and sobbed, appropriately, through a majority of it.  (Click on the titles to read the stories)  The Little Match Girl is about a homeless child who hallucinates scenes of warmth, feasts and family while lighting matches one by one in an attempt to stay warm on Christmas Eve.  At the end of the book she is found frozen to death.  I tried to tell Greg the story line last night over dinner and I got all choked up just giving him the abbreviated version!   Nice, Gram.  Good book choice.  I'm fairly certain that my grandmother and Hans Christian Andersen are wholly responsible for this haunting cloud of depression that lingers over me every year during the entire month of December.

I also think about the fir tree story every January 1st when I drag our tree to the back porch, and again in February when I have given up waiting for Greg to take the tree somewhere, and I throw it over the side of the deck...then again in June when he finally gets sick of seeing the decaying Christmas tree in the back driveway and actually chops it up or hauls it away.  Poor thing.  It really is only given a few weeks of glory.  Oh well, instead of worrying about the future feelings of abandonment that our tree will feel, I'm going to focus on the joy it brings us right now...and pray that our cat doesn't knock it over too many times during the next few weeks!

This is the one!

I realized yesterday that I have had that coat for 17 years!  1.  It's time for me to stop making fun of my dad for wearing a pair of sneakers he got in high school.  2.  I really need to invest in a new coat.  In my defense, it's a really warm coat, and I only wear it to get our tree or play in the snow.  

Andrew takes a turn helping Greg with the saw.

Jake's turn.

"Hey mom, what about this?  This could make a nice tree."  

Timber! 

The "men" and their prize!

It wouldn't be a family outing without at least one short tantrum.

"I can't help but think of that poor, sad tree's destiny!"

"I love chopping trees!"

"Me too!"

Sam had a hard time buying into the Christmas spirit.

"These ornaments are awesome!"

Taking a break for some snuggle time with Sam.

The star has been placed and the tree is complete!

And this is the best picture I could get after yelling about a photo.  Serves me right, I guess!

Oh yeah, and I realized last night that I can sing two full verses of O Tannenbaum in German, but don't know any more than "Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree" in English.   

Correction

When we ate the Church Brew works, we went to see the Trans Siberian Orchestra.  We ate at a little restaurant downtown when we saw Wicked.  Gosh, my memory is terrible these days! Both times were a lot of fun!

Talking To The Dead

Earlier in the week one of my college friends posted a request for names of mediums on Facebook.  Yeah, mediums, like people who talk to the dead.  Surprisingly, she got a pretty good response to her request (or maybe not so surprisingly), and it got me thinking about, well, mediums.  Now, before I go any further let me just clarify that I am 95% certain that mediums, psychics and anything else dealing with the paranormal is probably nonsense.  I think that psychics, mediums and tarot readers are likely very intuitive individuals who have finely tuned people skills and prey on universal human vulnerabilities.  Most of us have had a loved one who has passed away, know someone who is struggling, or have lost touch with someone we once held very dear.  If you go down the list of common hardships, you're bound to strike a chord eventually.

I don't watch any of the haunted places shows (except maybe around Halloween, just for kicks).  There's just no way they are real.  I watched about 3 minutes of one a few weeks ago while flipping through the channels, and I was amazed that the show kept a regular audience for any length of time.  I mean, come on, is a spirit really going to move a teddy bear across the room in front of a camera crew?  Lights off or not, I would hope that if I were a ghost haunting some place that I'd be a heck of a lot harder to fool!  And I would hope that I do something a lot more substantial than rock a teddy.  Whatever.

I think most people don't fully believe in the paranormal pseudosciences, but it nonetheless is a huge business.  It's entertaining.  People get a charge out of considering a world beyond explanation.  It's fun to be scared in a safe environment.  Plus, it brings many people comfort to think that our loved ones are looking out for us, guiding us.  Like I said above, I am 95% certain that it's bologna, but there's still that remaining 5% of me that thinks, "Anything's possible...and if it is true, it would be pretty cool."  I know I shared the story about what I choose to believe was a visit from my grandmother after Jacob's birth.  It's been a while, but I think I also shared some of the unexplainable things Greg and I have experienced in this house, which were eerily confirmed by the previous owners.  Are we sharing this home with some little old woman who loved it so much she wanted to spend all of eternity here?  Eh, maybe.  She's been kind so far, so she's welcome to stay, but the noise of the boys might drive her out eventually!

So, after reading Jackie's post, I sent an email to my dear friends Norma and Marsha.  We always get together this time of year.  Usually we just have coffee somewhere that doesn't have a time limit and sit for 5 or 6 hours catching up with each other.  That's fun.  It's the most fun ever, really.  I love these women, but it's also fun to do other things in addition to talking.  Once we went to The Church Brew Works for dinner and then saw "Wicked." If you live in the Pittsburgh area, or you frequent it, I highly recommend this place.  It used to be one of my favorite restaurants when I lived there.  And if you haven't seen "Wicked," then find a production ASAP, because it's awesome!

I wanted Norma and Marsha (and our other good friend Donna too) to come with me to a medium and then have lunch afterwards.  I thought it would be super fun!  The girls didn't share my enthusiasm, each having her own reasons why not to do it.  I guess my medium idea has been vetoed.  Bummer.  Oh well, I don't really have the money to blow on something like that right now anyway.  Lunch will be a much more affordable option, and I'm happy to spend any time at all with my friends.

I'll admit, the thought of having the opportunity to talk to my grandmother was very appealing.  I looked at the one medium's website and read her testimonials.  I read her suggestions on how to optimize a reading.  She said that a spirit comes out of a bond with the living person, so saying a prayer in advance, summoning that love, and asking the spirit to be present is a good starting point.  She also said that you should ask the person the questions you want answered before you come to the reading, to give the person time to think about their responses.  I thought about what questions I would ask, if I was given 30 minutes with my gram.  Actually, I couldn't come up with anything really pressing.  Some of the things I wonder about I wouldn't ask, for fear of an answer that would upset me.  The only thing I could think of was why did she convert to Catholicism on her death bed?  Sure, it would be nice to know why, but in the grand scheme of things, it's not that important.

What got me most was the "pray to your loved one and ask them to appear."  I don't know if I would call talking to my grandmother a prayer.  I tend to think of prayers going to God, and when I'm talking to my grandmother, I'm really just talking.  So I talked, or I thought a conversation in my head.  I asked her if I went to a medium, would she please come?

It was then that I realized that I don't really crave answers.  While I would have liked certain parts of my life to be different, I have come to terms with my life's course.   I miss my grandmother terribly.  I think about her every single day, many times, but I am comfortable with leaving my life's plan in God's hands.  I accept that all of my experiences, good and bad, have been custom designed to make me the person I am.  And although there are lots of superficial things I would change about myself (lots, and I don't just mean physically), I'm pretty confident that the substance of my personality, my integrity, is good.   I am beyond the stage of questioning, and what I need now could never come from a medium.  It's something that I have to find inside myself, something I have to feel.

When I stood there the other night, asking my grandmother if she would come and talk to me, I had a sense of absolute certainty that she would.  In fact, I felt very strongly, much stronger than I have felt in years, that she was right there with me at that moment.  I had no questions, just a sense of comfort.  It felt as if the silence itself was filled with compassion.  This morning, I woke up with a James Taylor song in my head.  I love James Taylor, and I frequently have his voice bouncing around in my brain.  Something In The Way She Moves is one song that I revisit often.  I know that it obviously isn't about someone's grandmother.  Nonetheless, I always, always, always think of my grandmother when I sing it.  Not because she listened to it.  As far as I know she doesn't have any connection at all with the song, but the words remind me of her.  "It isn't what she's got to say, or how she thinks or where she's been.  To me the words are nice the way they sound.  I like to hear them best that way.  It doesn't much matter what they mean.  She says them mostly just to calm me down."  I don't need any specific words of wisdom.  I just need the sentiment that they convey, and I can get that without a medium, without any real words, because in reality "She's been with me now, quite a long, long time, and I feel fine."

Pacifier Predicament

Jacob was born screaming and he didn't quit crying until he was about 6 months old.  The only thing that soothed him was being held while someone walked.  You couldn't sit and rock him, unless he was falling asleep.  He had to be held upright, head on your shoulder, being paced from one end of the house to the other.  I practically begged him to take a pacifier, but he just spit it out.  He had no interest.  I will never forget the day he found his thumb.  He slid his open hand down the side of his face and his thumb just happened to pop into his mouth.  He started sucking and our prayers were answered.  Initially, I didn't care about the thumb sucking.  It was cute and it soothed him.  Then I worried for a little while about how I was going to break him of the habit, but he really was never inappropriate with the thumb sucking.  As he got older, he only sucked it in bed or when he was watching TV.  I never, not once, had to tell him to take his thumb out of his mouth in public.  I think he still sucks his thumb from time to time, but not often.  I don't even notice him doing it when I check on him at night.  I think that's pretty awesome, since I sucked my finger until I was in like 10th grade (OK, 6th, but still!)

Andrew, on the contrary, was the happiest and most content newborn I have ever known.  He took that binkie in the hospital and cheerfully sucked away.  When we brought him home from the hospital, he never fussed, as long as he had his binkie.  He was so good, in fact, that I actually called my mother more than once wondering if she thought something was terribly wrong with him!  As a newborn, he would sit so serenely watching everything around him that I would almost forget he was there.  I would check on him, and suddenly realize that he was sound asleep!  He slept everywhere, any time.  He even fell asleep while I was changing his diapers!  He slept through the night at 6 weeks old and, aside from a few disruptions while teething, has been a wonderful sleeper ever since.  As long as he has that binkie, he is golden.  

But, he's almost 4 years old now, and he still has the binkie.  I have tried to take it from him several times without success.  (Yes, I am aware that the failure is my fault, not his.)  I should have taken it when he was one, when I took the bottle.  The transition from bottle to cup went amazingly smoothly and I should have taken advantage of the opportunity to break the habit while he was old enough to self soothe, but young enough not to remember the trauma of the adaptation.  But I didn't, and he's still sucking.  The professional in me says that I need to just bite the bullet and take the darn thing.  I am certain it is the cause of his crazy teeth and his lisp.   I have told him that I am not buying any more binkies and that we are going to take what's left of his binks to Santa so that Santa can give them to the babies who need them.  He agrees with me when I say it, but we tried giving the binkie to Santa last year.  By 4 a.m. Christmas morning, after 25 episodes of crying out and begging for a binkie, we returned them to their rightful position in Andrew's mouth!   If one of the parents I worked with told me these stories, I would empathize, but tell them that they just need to stay strong, stick to their guns and take the pacifier.  4 is too old to be sucking on a binkie.  

But the mom in me says he doesn't take it any time other than in bed.  He doesn't walk around with it all day, and as long as we break the habit before his adult teeth start to come in, what's the harm?  Even if his adult teeth are crooked, don't most kids need braces these days anyway?  And when again in his life will finding comfort be as simple as sucking on a pacifier?  He's my baby, my last little one.  Do I really need to be hard and take the binkie or am I being too soft because he's the baby?  It's not going to cause some kind of long term adult dysfunction if I let him suck it for a little while longer, is it?  Do I have to take it from him because I already told him I was going to?  I try very hard not to say things that I can't follow through with, but this is one thing that I repeatedly cave on.  Am I undermining my own parenting or is it not that big of a deal, since I am consistent elsewhere?  Opinions?  Advice?  Suggestions?  I could use some. 

My Ethical Intuitive Extrovert

After reading the results of my personality test, Greg took it for himself and his result was ENFJ, which means extraversion, intuition, feeling, judgment.  I copied and commented on a few sections of his description below.  The blue print is my opinion:

ENFJs are people-focused individuals. They live in the world of people possibilities. More so than any other type, they have excellent people skills. They understand and care about people, and have a special talent for bringing out the best in others. ENFJ's main interest in life is giving love, support, and a good time to other people. They are focused on understanding, supporting, and encouraging others. They make things happen for people, and get their best personal satisfaction from this. This is SO Greg.  His focus on others is truly his strongest and best characteristic.  I have always envied his ability to be 100% focused on the moment and on the person he is with, and his focus is sincere.  He is never listening to you out of obligation.  He genuinely wants to hear what you have to say, do what you want to do.  He is interested in the things his love ones bring to him, simply because someone he loves finds them interesting.

Because ENFJ's people skills are so extraordinary, they have the ability to make people do exactly what they want them to do. They get under people's skins and get the reactions that they are seeking. ENFJ's motives are usually unselfish, but ENFJs who have developed less than ideally have been known to use their power over people to manipulate them. Greg is not at all manipulative, but he is a great salesman.  My sister-in-law always said that he could sell ice to an Eskimo, and I believe it!  He's persuasive!

ENFJ's tend to be more reserved about exposing themselves than other extraverted types. Although they may have strongly-felt beliefs, they're likely to refrain from expressing them if doing so would interfere with bringing out the best in others. Because their strongest interest lies in being a catalyst of change in other people, they're likely to interact with others on their own level, in a chameleon-like manner, rather than as individuals. Which is not to say that the ENFJ does not have opinions. ENFJs have definite values and opinions which they're able to express clearly and succinctly. These beliefs will be expressed as long as they're not too personal. ENFJ is in many ways expressive and open, but is more focused on being responsive and supportive of others. When faced with a conflict between a strongly-held value and serving another person's need, they are highly likely to value the other person's needs. Hmm...this is true too.  Greg often has some strong opinions which he is amazingly good at keeping to himself in certain situations, if he feels like expressing his thoughts would do more harm than good (Unlike me, who tends to blurt things out, regardless of whether or not the timing is appropriate).  While I  think this is actually a positive attribute - knowing when to speak up and when to keep quiet - I also know that he has allowed some people to really take advantage of him because of his lack of protest.

People love ENFJs. They are fun to be with, and truly understand and love people. They are typically very straight-forward and honest. Usually ENFJs exude a lot of self-confidence, and have a great amount of ability to do many different things. They are generally bright, full of potential, energetic and fast-paced. They are usually good at anything which captures their interest.   Fun, fast-paced, confident.  Yep.  That's Greg. When we were first dating, he took me to a family reunion.  Everyone was playing horseshoes, which I had never played.  I will never forget how he stood behind me and guided me through the first few tosses of the horseshoe.  He exuded confidence and charm.  It was one of the sexiest moments ever! 

ENFJs like for things to be well-organized, and will work hard at maintaining structure and resolving ambiguity. They have a tendency to be fussy, especially with their home environments.  What I can say about this statement is "thank goodness he married a neat freak," because he is fussy about his home environment, but while he isn't necessarily a messy person, he's certainly not the most organized person either!

ENFJs do not like dealing with impersonal reasoning. They don't understand or appreciate its merit, and will be unhappy in situations where they're forced to deal with logic and facts without any connection to a human element. Living in the world of people possibilities, they enjoy their plans more than their achievements. They get excited about possibilities for the future, but may become easily bored and restless with the present...And this is why we have 15 home improvement projects that are 95% done, then abandoned!

ENFJs have a special gift with people, and are basically happy people when they can use that gift to help others. They get their best satisfaction from serving others. Their genuine interest in Humankind and their exceptional intuitive awareness of people makes them able to draw out even the most reserved individuals.

ENFJs have a strong need for close, intimate relationships, and will put forth a lot of effort in creating and maintaining these relationships. They're very loyal and trustworthy once involved in a relationship. Yes, this is Greg - he expends most of his energy outside of work on his interpersonal relationships and is loyal to a fault!

In general, ENFJs are charming, warm, gracious, creative and diverse individuals with richly developed insights into what makes other people tick. This special ability to see growth potential in others combined with a genuine drive to help people makes the ENFJ a truly valued individual. As giving and caring as the ENFJ is, they need to remember to value their own needs as well as the needs of others.

Jealous that he's mine?  You should be! 

Gym Uniform Disaster

Wondering about the title?  Bear with me on a few short tangents first, and I'll get to it by the end, I promise.  

Suffering from various forms of insomnia my entire life has created a slight obsession with sleep.  I spend a lot of time thinking about sleep, my nice warm bed, dreaming and anything else that is associated with sleep.  Do you dream?  Well, that’s a dumb question, actually, because everyone dreams.  I guess I should rather ask, do you remember your dreams?  I do.  I remember every dream I have, and I have some very, very messed up dreams.  Most of the time I can link at least parts of them back to things that happened or things that I saw or heard during my waking day.   Other times, they arise from something deeper.  I have several recurring themes in my dreams.  I don’t call them recurring dreams, because the details are never the same, but the main idea occurs again and again.   Here they are in no particular order:

• The unprepared for school dream. In this dream it is always the last day of a class that I am taking either for college or for some kind of work related training.  I find myself sitting in class with a final exam on my desk and no recollection of the entire semester.  Or, the rest of my classmates are all handing in 20 page term papers and I just now realized that I forgot to start mine!  Panic!  The entire dream then consists of me trying to figure out some way of preparing, either by attempting to speed read chapters or running to the nearest library to begin research on some undetermined topic.  I never reach the end of this dream.  I always wake up in the middle 

• The out of control driving dream.  I am driving some kind of vehicle and either the brakes, the steering or both goes out.   Try as I might, I can’t control the vehicle and I spin wildly out of control, through towns, over mountains, close to rivers and over cliffs.  I wake up just before I crash.

• The paralysis dream.   It will start out with me needing to move quickly for some reason – either I am late, or being chased, or there’s an emergency, etc.  I start off running, but as I go, my legs become increasingly heavy.  My pace slows to a walk, and eventually, I end up crawling, sometimes even pulling myself along the road with my arms, dragging my legs behind me.  I never reach my destination. 

• The college post office dream.  I am at Allegheny College, in the post office, standing in front of my mailbox and I cannot for the life of me remember what my combination is.  I go to the desk and they tell me that they have already given me the combination too many times.  I have reached my max and I am no longer allowed to request the information.  I stand there, helpless, unable to get my mail, as the rest of the campus crowds around me, unable to help me and frustrated by my blocking them from their own mailboxes. 

• The fighting with my mother dream.  I don’t usually even know why I am fighting with her,  but I always end up screaming (and I mean SCREAMING) at her.  I usually wake up angry at her for no good reason, until I’ve had my coffee and realize that it was all just a dream!

• And lastly, there's the gym uniform dream.  I’m somewhere in high school, taking gym class and I suddenly realize that I am missing part of my gym uniform, either the white socks or the sneakers.  It’s not usually the whole uniform, but rather just part of it, so I try to skim by undetected with a partial uniform violation, my heart racing the entire time.  

What do you think about those dreams?  I think they say that I have a terrific fear of being unprepared and/or out of control!  I’m not 100% certain about the inability to walk dream.  I guess that’s maybe a control thing too.  Thoughts?  Suggestions?  The mom dream, well, who better to take your anger out on than your mom, right?  (Sorry, Mom.  You get hell even in my dreams!)  

The best one though, in my opinion, is the high school gym uniform dream.  On the surface, you would think that was just another example of my phobia of being caught off guard.  It’s a little deeper than that, though.  Let me explain:

This part really happened:  In 7^th grade I had first period gym class.  For a 13 year old girl with big poofy bangs, 1^st period gym class is practically a death sentence.  Of course picture day in 7^th grade fell on a gym day.  Not wanting to be forever remembered in my junior high school yearbook as the girl with flat hair, I lied to my gym teacher and said that I forgot my uniform so that I didn’t have to participate in gym class.  Now, if you know me, you know that I am not a good liar.  I swear I have some kind of neon sign that flashes "FALSE" on my forehead when I'm not truthful, because I almost always get called on the carpet when I try to fake my way out of something.  In fact, I usually self-incriminate on purpose just to avoid the anxiety of being caught in a fib.  But having perfect yearbook hair that day was apparently more important to me than being caught in a lie.  I took the risk, and I lost.  As I was happily sitting on the bench watching the rest of those sucker girls play kickball in the gym, ruining their nicely poofed hair, I spotted something in my peripheral vision.  I turned my head and there was the gym teacher with my gym uniform – with my name on both the shirt and shorts – that she had fetched from my gym locker.  “What do you think this is?”  she smugly said.  “Um…my gym uniform”  I said, eyes to the ground, toes making neat circles around my feet.  "Put it on and join your classmates," she said.  It was the only time in my entire high school career that I was give detention for something that I actually did (once when I was a senior I forgot to get a slip signed by the dentist confirming my appointment. I was given detention.  Big whoop.  It was an easy 45 minutes to get my homework done).  To this day, 22 years later, I still dream about that damn gym uniform.  Thanks a bunch, Mrs.Bender.  You couldn't let a good girl slide just one time?  I bet I could dig up that ugly photo too.  Double scar.  Poor me!  

Hungry?

It's been a while since I posted a meal recipe.  I know I have posted this recipe before, maybe more than once, but it's one of my favorite go-to recipes, along with the hamburger casserole and other assorted good eats! (Click on the link for the other recipes)  I spent the day at home with a sick Andrew, so I had time to make an actual meal today.  This one is a little more labor intensive (around and hour total time) than a lot of other things I do, but it's well worth the effort, and it's even better as leftovers.  Here you go:

Sweet Potato Shepherd's Pie

• 2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
• splash of milk
• olive oil
• 12 ounces ground turkey or chicken (today I used ground beef and it was just as good)
• 2-3 celery stalks, diced
• 2-3 carrots, coined
• 1/2 medium red onion, chopped
• several dashes of Worcestershire sauce
• 15 ounce can of tomato sauce
• 1.5 cups steamed green beans (I just use frozen green beans and layer them on unmeasured)
• salt and pepper
• Asiago or Parmesan cheese

Boil potatoes in a large pot until tender

While potatoes are cooking, saute celery, onions and carrots in olive oil, sprinkle a few dashes of Worcestershire sauce:

Add ground turkey and cook thoroughly (turkey is a drier meat, so you can add it directly to your sauteing veggies and continue cooking.  Beef is fattier and it ended up being just a little oily.  Even though our beef is very lean, the next time I use beef, I will brown and drain it separately, then add it to the veggies)  Add another few dashes of Worcestershire sauce as well as salt and pepper to taste:  

Drain the potatoes, add a splash of milk, salt and pepper and mash them.

Layer the meat mixture into a baking dish:

Add the green beans:

Then add the sweet potatoes, and top with Parmesan cheese.  Bake at 375 for about 40 minutes or until the sauce bubbles through.  

Be sure not to disturb your napping kitten with any unnecessary kitchen clatter...

...or he may tell you your dinner tastes like this:

Blah.

This makes a pretty good amount of casserole.  Normally, Greg and I eat it for two days and toss the rest.  Tonight, my mom and Greg's mom were both here when I was pulling it out of the oven, so I gave more than 3/4 of it away.  I had enough left for me to have one small plate.  I could easily have eaten what was left, but I'm such a thoughtful person that I put the remainder aside in a glass (don't use plastic!) travel dish for my darling husband to take for his lunch tomorrow.  If he forgets it, he's in the dog house...or I'll just eat it for dinner tomorrow!

I recommend chasing this meal with 3 mint Oreo cookies, but only 3.  Oreos go straight to your behind! 

Shh! I'm Trying To Sleep!

Do any of you meditate?  Do yoga?  I've tried several times, but I really suck at both.  I took a yoga class in college and I was so hung up about getting into ridiculous poses in a room full of people that I couldn't relax, so I dropped out.  I have tried to do it at home with a DVD many times, but I just don't stick with it.  Same with meditation.  I so often wish that I could be one of those people who is totally zen, calm and quiet minded, at peace with the world.  I'm not that person.  Instead, I feel like I live trapped inside some kind of mental tornado.  My mind is never ever still.  I can't shut it off.  I think more than I talk, and if you spend much time with me, you'll probably find it really hard to believe that it's even possible to think more than I talk.   Well, it is.  And the thoughts come at the most inopportune times, like when I'm supposed to be paying attention to something important, or like right now, when I'm supposed to be sleeping!!!

9 nights out of 10 go something like this: put the kids to bed, talk to Greg (or whatever) for about 30 minutes, then get my own butt into bed.  I'm rarely up past 930 or 10.  I lay down.  I think my prayers.  If I need a little help I count - not sheep though, just plain numbers.  My dilemma with sheep is a prime example of how my twisted mind works: I try to imagine sheep jumping over a fence.  I start with one.  Suddenly, two sheep jump the fence at once.  Then 3 at once, then before I know it the whole herd is cascading over the fence and it's impossible for me to count them individually.  It totally stresses me out, but I digress...

Tonight was the 10th night.  You know, the one that doesn't go as planned.  I'm exhausted, believe me.  I could use the sleep.  I also have a killer headache, which may or may not be helped by sleep.  The point is, I want to be sleeping right now, but my mind is running on overdrive.  What's so frustrating is that it's racing for no particular reason other than simply to race.  I laid down to go to sleep tonight and this is what happened:

Sam jumped onto the bed and carefully positioned himself half on my neck and half across my face, leaving just enough space for me to suck fresh air through one nostril from around his stomach fur.  I didn't make him move, because, as crazy as it is, I love that stupid cat, and I like having his soft, warm, rumbling body against me.  I thought my prayers and started to count, but somewhere before I reached 100, I stopped counting and started thinking.  Why the thoughts come is beyond me.  They appear out of the blue, usually in rapid succession.  Tonight, my first thought was about my cousins Tish and Ashley who lost their mother unexpectedly to a brain aneurysm the day after Thanksgiving, 21 years ago.  It was the most heart breaking funeral I have ever been to.  Ashley was only 5 or 6, and I can still hear her pitiful cries over Barbara's casket.  It is an image that will be forever emblazoned in my mind, and it brings me to tears every time I think of it.  So of course, I started crying while I was laying there, which doesn't do much to help sleep.  I shook the funeral thoughts from my mind, dried my face and tried again to fall into dreamland. (Actually, I have really messed up dreams to, but I'll save that for another day)

Second go:  I skip prayers, because already said them 15 minutes ago.  I start counting, but I don't think I even reached 10 before Greg must have had some kind of falling dream or dreamed something traumatic.  He jumped so high he threw the covers off of us.  He rolled over, apparently unaware of his actions.  I, however, was even more awake.  As I laid there, more and more thoughts just streamed through my brain.  Damn-it.  I made soup today and left it on the stove top to cool.  I forgot about it and it's still sitting there, 8 hours later.  Wasted soup, and it was really good too.  I was going to eat that for dinner tomorrow.  Now I'll have to think of something else to make.  Do I need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, or can it wait til Monday or Tuesday?  I need to get a planner for 2012 and a new memory card for my camera.  Maybe I'll go to Target tomorrow.  Tomorrow is my niece's 18th birthday party.  Scratch Target.  I don't need that stuff right this second anyway.  And I really should wait until payday, which is Friday.  Since my health insurance decided to change their chiropractic coverage, I was hit with a $350 bill - 10 visits went by before the chiropractic office found the error.  They were nice about it, and said that I could just pay for my current visits per Diem and pay off the balance after Christmas, but I can't do that.  Carrying balances keeps me awake at night. (Ha!)  I paid the damn bill, but now I'm really broke.  Yep, definitely wait until Friday to go to Target.  Speaking of the chiropractor, I am really upset about this whole insurance thing.  My head is killing me and so is my hip for that matter.   I don't have headaches all day every day, but it starts in the middle of the night and lasts to mid-morning most days.  I would be able to fix it with 5 or 6 visits to Dr. Luke, but at 35$ a pop, I can't afford that right now, so I have to wait...until January!  OMG.  The holidays are going to be hell if this gets worse.

Channel change, chiropractor thoughts are over.  Now I'm on to something new.  There's a dead deer hanging from my back porch.  My brother in law shot it this afternoon and gave it to us.  That's super nice of him, and I will eat it, but I'm not thrilled about it dangling from my deck.  I overheard Greg on the phone with his dad this evening.  He said, "Yeah, come down at 8.  I'm going to cut her legs off first and then you can do the rest of her at your convenience."  In context, those words are really gross.  Out of context, someone could be calling the police on us!  Ha!

I hope Andrew doesn't pee the bed tonight.  I let him have a large cup of milk before he went to sleep.  He rarely pees at night, but he apparently drank too much last night, because he peed the bed, right after I had washed all of his bedding, of course.  I don't want to wash it again tonight.  I also hope the cat doesn't puke in the laundry room again.  That was super gross to wake up to.

And on and on it goes...just random, pointless, mental chatter that I can't turn off.  Obviously, you see I got out of bed.  Maybe writing some of it down will erase it from my files long enough for me to catch some z's.  Probably not.  If it weren't already so late, I would consider taking something to help me sleep, but if I take something now, it'll be too hard to get up.  So I'm stuck awake, on the darn computer, wishing that I had the ability to quiet this endless stream of yakking long enough to fall asleep.  Maybe I'll go sit on the couch and chant "Om" for a little while.  I'll let you know how that goes.

Personality Acronym

I feel the need to be frank.  I am actually very grateful that I am no longer bound by my promise to write a daily blog entry on gratitude!  It was fun.  I enjoyed sharing stories and reflecting on what’s good in my life, but I also felt a little restricted by the month-long theme.  I had other ideas in my head that I wanted to get out, many of which are now floating around aimlessly, lost in the abyss of my mind, never to be seen or heard from again!   I was able to hold on to a few, and I’ll share them as I have time.  I can’t promise a daily entry anymore either.  It takes a while to write such thought provoking and stimulating material, people!  Haha! 

A few weeks ago, I found an awesome link for a watered down version of the Myers-Briggs personality test on my friend Abby’s blog (you can click her name to check out her blog too, if you like!)  I asked her if I could steal it, and she kindly said yes.  I think these kinds of tests are very interesting, especially when they are backed by actual psychological research. After Jacob was born, I went  back to school to get a graduate degree in psych, only to drop out due to post-partum burnout.  It was fun until I had my own nervous breakdown!  Seriously, though, I think it’s interesting to take these test and see how accurate the descriptions are to our true selves.  Having insight into our own motivations is sometimes very helpful.  It’s good to know why you are the way you are, or why you do what you do.   I also think it’s interesting to take these tests with another person.  Having an understanding of someone else’s personality type can be very advantageous in assisting with the compatibility of a relationship.  Sometimes just knowing why a person behaves a certain way is enough to ease frustration, or to help us understand how and why we need to change our approach when interacting with others.  I’ve always worked with people, and I find behaviors very interesting.  There’s never a simple answer behind human motivation, but sometimes you can gather at least a smidgen of understanding from a simple analysis.

I took the test and my result was ISFJ.  That’s Introversion, Sensing, Feeling and Judgement.  Introversion refers to where you focus the most attention.  Introverts gather energy from within rather than from large groups. "Sensing" means how we discern information.  An "S" takes information in via the senses, preferring concrete information rather than the abstract.  "Feeling" refers to how we make decisions.  Feelers value personal considerations over objective criteria.  And "Judgement" means that I am a planner (surprise, my highest score was in this area!) (The result definitions came from Wikipedia)

Here is the David Kiersey summary of the ISFJ personality: 

We are lucky that Protectors make up as much as ten percent the population, because their primary interest is in the safety and security of those they care about - their family, their circle of friends, their students, their patients, their boss, their fellow-workers, or their employees. Protectors have an extraordinary sense of loyalty and responsibility in their makeup, and seem fulfilled in the degree they can shield others from the dirt and dangers of the world. Speculating and experimenting do not intrigue Protectors, who prefer to make do with time-honored and time-tested products and procedures rather than change to new. At work Protectors are seldom happy in situations where the rules are constantly changing, or where long-established ways of doing things are not respected. For their part, Protectors value tradition, both in the culture and in their family. Protectors believe deeply in the stability of social ranking conferred by birth, titles, offices, and credentials. And they cherish family history and enjoy caring for family property, from houses to heirlooms.

Wanting to be of service to others, Protectors find great satisfaction in assisting the downtrodden, and can deal with disability and neediness in others better than any other type. They are not as outgoing and talkative as the Provider Guardians [ESFJs], and their shyness is often misjudged as stiffness, even coldness, when in truth Protectors are warm-hearted and sympathetic, giving happily of themselves to those in need. 

Their reserve ought really to be seen as an expression of their sincerity and seriousness of purpose. The most diligent of all the types, Protectors are willing to work long, hard hours quietly doing all the thankless jobs that others manage to avoid. Protectors are quite happy working alone; in fact, in positions of authority they may try to do everything themselves rather than direct others to get the job done. Thoroughness and frugality are also virtues for them. When Protectors undertake a task, they will complete it if humanly possible. They also know better than any other type the value of a dollar, and they abhor the squandering or misuse of money. To save, to put something aside against an unpredictable future, to prepare for emergencies-these are actions near and dear to the Protector's heart. For all these reasons, Protectors are frequently overworked, just as they are frequently misunderstood and undervalued. Their contributions, and also their economies, are often taken for granted, and they rarely get the gratitude they deserve.

I think that’s a fairly accurate picture of me!  What do you think?  I don’t know about the “believing in the stability of social ranking conferred by birth, titles, offices, and credentials” part, but I definitely cherish family history and heirlooms! I also don’t think that the introversion part is all that fitting, depending on the situation.  It was my lowest score, actually.  I can be introverted.  I definitely need alone time.  Unlike Greg, I am not someone who can be around other people 24/7 and still feel sane, but I also like being with others.  I may be initially quiet until I get to know a person or a situation.  Once I am comfortable, I tend to be quite loud and opinionated, actually.  I think that my demeanor is sometimes misinterpreted by those who don’t know me well, either because I didn’t say enough, said too much, or said it sarcastically.  When I said that “sometimes I appear to be more of a jerk than I really am” in a prior blog entry, I was serious.  I say a lot of cynical things that I think are comical, but if you don’t know me well enough to know that I am just kidding, I can come off as very judgemental and condescending.  In reality, I try very hard to be considerate of others, understand where they are coming from, and to reflect on people’s life circumstances before forming opinions…most of the time.  Some people are just assholes and don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt.  But when it’s possible, I try to give it.  

The rest of the analysis - thoroughness, planning, preparing for the future…well, of course that’s me!  If nothing else, I am a planner!  

Now, wasn’t that fun, reading all about me?  Go take the test yourself and tell me your results! I think it’s fun to compare with friends…are we attracted to those who share our personalities or do we go for polar opposites?  Click here and find out about yourself!