Mrs. Ditter's Advice for The World

Snow!

2011-02-16T12:19:00.000-08:00

No big thoughts today...just a huge sense of gratefulness for the morning's snowstorm. Watching the dog run around in it, listening to the kids shriek as those first flakes came down, standing with my face tipped up and feeling the clumps of coldness...it's a wonderful, light-filled break from the drip, drip, drip of the dark winters around here.

I remember my dad, a Seattle native, complaining about the endless snow in the small Lake Michigan town where I grew up. When I said I wouldn't want to live somewhere where it rained all the time, he said, "Well, honey, you don't have to shovel rain. And if you want to see some snow or go skiing, you just drive right up to the mountain."

Dad was right. You don't have to shovel rain. But I wouldn't mind the chance to shovel snow on a more regular basis.

In the meantime, no big thoughts--just gratitude.

What to Read When You have the Flu

2011-02-08T11:23:00.000-08:00

Other than those horrible hours when you're unable to read at all because of the pounding headache, wracking nausea, feverish delirium and quivering limbs (or because you're lying on a sleeping bag in your bathroom shaking and crying and generally being The Cul De Sac's Biggest Drama Queen Ever), having the flu gives you the perfect excuse to hang around in bed and read. Based on recent personal experience, and with the stern reminder that you should be accompanied by tea, crackers, popsicles and household pets (one large snoring dog and two purring cats is optimum) in order to fully enjoy the recovery period, I recommend the following books:

Cleopatra, A Life by Stacy Schiff. Marvelous research--transports you back to that time and makes all the sights and sounds and smells come alive...ooog, the smells. Maybe not such a good choice. Moving on...

Vision in White, by Nora Roberts. Those who read her hard-hitting detective work (written as JD Robb) may not know that Roberts got her start writing romances. Sassy dialogue, good girlfriends, drama queen narcissistic mothers, sexy sex scenes...yuck, not really so great, either. Moving on, again.

Shadows on the Rock, by Willa Cather. Sometimes re-reading a classic, especially one set during the early days of Quebec City (my mom's people arrived on the second boatload over from France, so I love this book for many reasons) is just like comfort food. Until we get to page 156: " A great many people in the town were sick at this time, and Cecile herself caught a cold and was feverish. Her father wrapped her in blankets and made her sit with her feet in a hot mustard bath while she drank a great quantity of sassafras tea." I do NOT need the reminder that people have been getting sick like this for centuries. I wish to wallow in my own personal hell and feel Put Upon by the Universe. Next!

Dark Road to Darjeeling, by Deanna Raybourn. Somewhat spooky, definitely mysterious, perhaps a leetle bit bloody...let's try something else.

The Huffington Post Complete Guide to Blogging by various editors and Ms. 395 Gazillion Dollar AOL Buyout herself, Arianna Huffington. Okay, now my head is spinning again and the nausea is back. And just because I'm feeling pissy, I'm not putting in the link to that book.

At this point, I did what any sensible person would do: I turned on my laptop and played online Scrabble, losing horribly, of course, and making words such as DOG and RAG and AM. When I'm feeling better, I'll get back to the stack of books on my bedside table, including one I've been saving for months, the newest YA book in the Bartimaeus sequence, written by Jonathon Stroud. "Bartimaeus: The Ring of Solomon" might be just what I need to get my mind off my own little world.

I Don't Want To!

2011-01-18T19:28:00.000-08:00

I don't want to.
I woke up one morning last week with those words running through my head.
As I lay in bed, I let my mind tell me all the things I didn't want to do. The list was long, and petty, and whiny, and persistent:

I don't want to get out of this warm bed.
I don't want to walk down that long driveway with the old dog and get the newspaper in the freezing cold.
I don't want to get the girls up.
I don't want to make breakfasts.
I don't want to make lunches.
I don't want to make peace, if necessary, between siblings warring over the bathroom and personal space and anything else they could think up.
I don't want to drive them to carpools and bus stops.
I don't want to walk the dog in the mud and cold and clean her up afterwards.
I don't want to cook, to do laundry, to scoop the cat boxes, to go to the bus stop, to make dinner.

The entire day stretched in front of me as one big DON'T; the only thing I did want to do was stay in bed all day long.

Reality check: My life is pretty easy; I'm blessed with friends and family and animals and work that I love and a warm house. I can hike with friends and dogs on a regular basis. I can buy food at the grocery store. I can turn the key in my car's ignition and know that it will start. I can afford gas for the car, and insurance, and maintenance costs. My jeans fit and my boots are watertight and my coats are warm and water-resistant. I thought of all these things. I scolded myself with all my blessings. I railed against my ungratefulness.

And yet the parade of DON'Ts continued, finally crashing into I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER THAT THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY BROTHER'S DEATH IS ALMOST HERE.
All the other DON'T's suddenly made sense, and I felt something shift inside me.
And so I got up and made breakfast, and lunches, and walked the dog, and edited a book, and the sadness lifted.
Year by year by long year, I'm better at being grateful for his life, and not so hooked into mourning his death. I'm not sure what more I can ask for.

Mom's Spiritual Journey

2010-12-10T13:42:00.000-08:00

Not much to say about this, other than that it's short (two minutes) and you might get a laugh out of watching my very first movie. Also, happy holidays. May you be calm and peaceful. HAH!

Nanny Tells All!

2010-10-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

You've seen it at the grocery store, right? The latest ripped-from-reality expose of famous parents and their kids, told by the nanny/housekeeper/gardener/tutor/insert-function-here.
Makes me think: Is there a single one of us who'd want a member of our family (since most of us don't have staff) to go public with their real life stories? I certainly wouldn't want my temper tantrums, sarcasm, rudeness and occasional immaturity put out into the public arena.
And yet as human beings, that's what we're drawn to--tales of other people's failings. Is it because we can measure ourselves against outrageous behavior and feel relieved? After all, we're not that bad. I might drop the occasional F-bomb, but at least I'm not allowing my under-age kids to drink. Or to drive one of our many cars around the estate (yeah, okay, we don't have an estate. but still...).
I'm not that bad.
We're not that bad.
Are we?
Given money and fame and adulation, surrounded by people who we pay to tell us what we want to hear, insulated from many of life's inconveniences, how would we be? Who would we be?
Would we be that bad?

Seven Great Things About Teenagers (and preteens, too)

2010-10-12T10:28:00.000-07:00

Yeah, right. But stay with me here. You'll see what I mean.
1. Teenagers force you to examine your cozy little assumptions.
Here I am, going about my daily life, meeting work deadlines, doing laundry, planning next spring's garden, la la la la la---WHAM! Veganism! Laptops for 11-year-olds! Religion! Animal rights! Skateboarders' rights! Politics! Purple hair dye! Clothing! Relationships!
2. Teenagers are hilarious.
Goofy, occasionally childlike, willing to look ridiculous if it makes them laugh (I could link to a video of some teens dressed up as woolly mammoths and cavemen, but I won't), clever with wordplay, endlessly creative, occasionally sarcastic (see #3, below).
3. Teenagers are cruel.
And when they are, I find myself forced to remember and examine the times in my life when I've been cruel. Great reality check.
4. Teenagers demand accountability.
Don't want them to swear? Stop swearing. Repeat ad infinitum, with everything: eating junk food, lying, cheating, cleaning your room, hanging up your towel, and owning up to that time you broke every rule in the book when you snuck into the MSU pool at 2:00 AM.
5. Teenagers are passionate.
Remember what it was like to get all worked up about stuff? If you can regain that passion (without the exhausting drama and hormones), it can change your life, no matter how old you are, no matter how set in your ways you've become, no matter how scared you are of failing.
6. Teenagers dream big.
Semester at Sea. Juilliard. Harvard, Yale, MIT, Berkeley. Book contracts. Movie contracts. World travel. World transformation. Long-lasting romantic love. Delectable vegan brownies (probably the most impossible item on this list).
7. Teenagers work hard.
Babysitting, lifeguarding, flipping burgers, digging compost, stacking firewood, endless piles of homework, team sports, team projects, being cheerful (remember what hard work that was as a teen? OUCH!), making polite conversation when guests are over for dinner (again: OUCH!), dragging through life sleep-deprived because the teen circadian rhythm is not set to coincide with getting up at Oh Dark Thirty to catch carpool/subway/bus/train/whatever.
8. Bonus Item! Teenagers force us to remember and to give thanks.
Remember when the world seemed big and welcoming. Remember when our options seemed wide open. Remember back to when the grooves in our brain weren't worn quite so deeply. And...give thanks for the choices we've made, the options we've turned down, the grooves we've worn, the insight we've gained.

What have I missed that's great about teenagers and preteens? Tell me in the comments, below. And as always, if you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, leave it in the comments or email me at mrsditter@gmail.com. Anonymity guaranteed.

It's Been HOW Long?

2010-07-02T19:45:00.000-07:00

Well. All I can say is, between a few unexpected medical issues (one of which required an overnight stay in the hospital which OF COURSE happened when my husband was out of town and yes, thank you, I'm totally fine), a kitchen fire that totally destroyed the microwave and proved just how wonderful firefighters truly are, the typical end of school chaos, the four days devoted to dance recital, the start of swim team, the demand of the 15-year-old to be sent to an early-entrance college program, and an unexpected flurry of extremely quick-turnaround writing projects (note to Universe: I AM NOT COMPLAINING. I AM GRATEFUL FOR THE WORK. PLEASE SEND MORE AS IT SEEMS I MIGHT BE PAYING COLLEGE TUITION THREE YEARS EARLY, ALSO THE CAR NEEDS A LOT OF WORK, AND DID I MENTION THE HOSPITAL BILLS?), it has indeed been three months since I've posted. And we are heading into the middle part of summer, even if this morning it was 52 degrees and raining at swim team practice.

So anyway, hi to all you wonderful blog readers, and when I think of something profound to write, I will. Until then, be happy that your life is not such that one of your brothers thoughtfully offered to set fire to a kitchen appliance in your honor.

Pre-Summer Mothering Angst, or How Can I Enjoy the Spring Flowers When Summer is Looming Over Me Like a Big Horrible Scary Looming Thing

2010-04-08T16:55:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter: Summer is coming. And school will be out. And I am IN TOTAL DREAD of it. I feel terribly guilty, but I feel DOOMED DOOMED DOOMED by the thought of summer and kid(s) at home and everything else that goes with it . . . carpools, constantly changing schedules of camps and lessons, making endless breakfasts, lunches and dinners (for which I have no new ideas), taking the kids to the pool (and having to appear in my swimsuit), "fun" family trips and all the stress those entail. What's wrong with me? I must be a terrible mother. I used to love summer. I should be looking forward to spending all that time with my offspring. . . . in cranky and awful early adolescence, by the way. Should I be fired from this mothering job? Thanks, Ms. Pickle.

Dear Ms. Pickle, HAH! Are you sure you didn't mean "Could I be fired from this mothering job? Please? PLEASE?" and the answer is, "Sorry, honey. You will be a mom until your dying breath, and then probably for quite a while longer. Like, all eternity. So suck it up. Plus, you'd miss them if they weren't around."

Continuing to take your points in backward order, there is nothing wrong with you. At least I don't think there is. But then I could have written this letter myself (note to all loyal readers: No, I don't make up the letters that I answer here. But this one? Totally could have come from me). I do know a few women who love having the long summer; love the unstructured days; love the freedom to do just about anything, any time; love the family trips. I also know that these women have 1) more money than I do, and they 2) travel more than I do, and also that 3) their kids tend to get along with each other really well. I think that last point is more important than the first two. Also, I've noticed that parents who have extended family nearby, or who live in neighborhoods where the kids all run around together, seem to be happier about the long summer vacation. But most of the stay-at-home parents I know struggle with the same feelings you have. So cut yourself some slack.

Next: Of course you used to love summer! You used to be a goofy kid; a teen with no responsibilities; a college student with summers off from school and a no-brainer job; a 20-something with a hot body and lots of energy. Summer was FUN! Summer was the beach and the sun and the smell of Coppertone and hooting at cute young men. Boy, those were great times. *sigh* Is summer still so uncomplicated? No, I didn't think so.

Next, "I should be looking forward to spending all that time with my offspring." No, you shouldn't. You either are, or you aren't (most likely, you're feeling some combination). Telling yourself you SHOULD be feeling something is ridiculous, unproductive, untrue and hurtful. You're feeling what you're feeling. End of story.

Also next. Just because you take the kids to the pool does not mean you have to appear in a swimsuit. And, reality check: Most of those moms at the pool probably look a little lumpy, a little softer than they used to be, a little...saggy. Stop looking at yourself and just get in the water and have fun. Or hang on a chair and read. Don't worry about anyone looking at you, because they most likely aren't. Remember that old quote: You wouldn't spend so much time worrying about what people thought about you if you realized how seldom they did? That applies here. Take it to heart. It's your path to freedom, poolside.

I'm not going to give you recipes, or camp ideas, or carpool suggestions, other than to point out that if your children are in "early and awful adolescence" they are old enough to prepare at least one of their meals every day (bowl of cereal, sandwich), and perhaps each one of them could make dinner one night a week. Also: teach them how to do laundry this summer. You won't regret it.

So what are you going to do? You are going to enjoy what's left of the school year (translation: do things for yourself while the kids are in school), realize that you're probably going to have some rough spots this summer, and make sure you have at least one good friend to whom you can moan and complain.

Finally, on June 15th, write the following wise words on the back of your hand in Sharpie: This Too Shall Pass.

As always, thanks for reading. Comments, questions: leave them in the Comments section below, or you can leave me a question at mrsditter@gmail.com.

In Which Mrs. Ditter Feels Totally Confused

2010-03-04T09:14:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, To start, that is the question. How do you keep yourself from not beginning? And then how do you keep yourself from not following through? And what about the middle...the boring stuff it seems, with no gratification at all. I have been putting off posting this for months as I searched and searched and I have not been able to find the answer. I sit, therefore, I am. Is that who I am destined to be?

Okay, Obliquely Questioning One, hang on a moment while I grab some caffeine and ponder your conundrum.
Let's start with the last bit: "I sit, therefore I am. Is that who I am destined to be?"
I would suggest you try out this statement instead: "I am, therefore I am." Because--you are. We all just plain are. Sitting, standing, meditating, eating, walking the dog, hollering at our loved ones, laughing, sweeping the floor --we ARE.
As far as being destined for anything, my own personal jury is out on that one. I'm not entirely certain that we come into this world "destined" to be anyone in particular, other than who we are. And I think who we are is, in large part, up to us to find out. And to create. And to change, if we see the need for change (and sometimes the need for change is a subtle whisper in our ears, and sometimes it's a big guy on a tractor crashing down our front door).
Okay, that was the easy stuff. As far as the first part of your inquiry, hmm. You've got me stumped. As a writer, my problem is NOT with "not following through." The beginnings are easy but the following through presents more challenge.
For what are you searching? The meaning of life? Does life have to have a meaning, or are we free to just live it as best we can, given our circumstances (health, environment, education level, income, genetic predisposition to mood swings, etc.)?
I feel as if I'm totally missing the point here, but I offer the following links for those inclined to explore:

The Work with Byron Katie
The Tapping Solution

Gratefulness.org, a Network for Grateful Living

Let me know how it goes.

Questions? Conundrums? Comments? Leave them in the comments box, below, or email me at mrsditter@gmail.com.

And as always, thanks for reading.

School Friends...Or Not

2010-03-02T14:19:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter,
There's this girl who's really nice and we're friends, but this incident keeps happening: I'll ask her, "Hey, do you want to sit together on the bus?" every once in a while, and she'll say "Sure!" and then we'll get on the bus and she'll go and sit with someone else. It's not entirely her fault, because there are these two girls who stick to her like velcro and if she tries to sit with someone else they'll go, "Aw, come on! Sit with us!" and she'll say she'll sit with me next time and then goes and sits with them. I don't want to appear clingy and say "You never sit with me!" but honestly, I'm starting to get pretty pissed with those other two girls. They seriously won't let her sit anywhere but with them!
Signed, Pissed :(

Dear Pissed, Oh, boy. I can see why you're ticked off. I also wonder if you aren't feeling hurt, as well? Even as adults, it hurts when people you think are your friends treat you in a way that you wouldn't treat them (yes, Mrs. Ditter is speaking from experience. Ouch!).
So just take a deep breath and admit to yourself that while this makes you angry, it also hurts. That's normal and human and totally understandable.
Got that deep breath? Okay, let's tackle this thing.
When I read your letter, three things stuck out: 1) you say this girl is really nice and you're friends with her; 2) you're angry with the other girls; 3) you don't want to look clingy.
1) I don't know her, so I don't know if she's nice or not. But I have to say that her behavior, at least about the bus-riding, doesn't sound very friendly. She certainly isn't being friendly to you when she says one thing and then does another. Would you treat a friend that way? Probably not.
I understand that she must have some really good qualities, otherwise you wouldn't like her so much. But it sounds as if she's not very reliable, at least as far as keeping her word about bus-riding goes.
2) Now, moving on to the anger bit: If you're going to be angry with someone, be angry with the person who broke a commitment to you. Take a look at your last sentence: "They seriously won't let her sit anywhere but with them!" Really? Are they in charge of where she sits? Isn't her decision where she sits HER decision, not theirs? If you don't like those other two girls, it's understandable that you'd want to blame them. But it's not their fault (even if they're really obnoxious and you'd like to throw moldy cheese at them).
I wonder why you're not angry with her? Are you scared of being angry with her? Is she one of those really popular kids who everybody likes?
Sometimes we're scared of being angry with really popular people because we think it says something bad about us. IT DOESN'T.
3) Finally, you're absolutely right that you don't want to look clingy. Of course you don't want to say something like, "You never sit with me!" No one wants to be a whiner! And you really don't want her to sit with you because she feels guilty. That's not a good basis for a friendship.
So what to do?
I see several options. Use any or all or none--it's your choice!
A) Stop asking her to sit with you on the bus. Easy. Situation over.
B) Be honest with her. Tell her you feel upset when she says she'll sit with you, and then doesn't. ONLY do this if you can do it calmly. ONLY do this if you can do it without saying mean things about the other two girls.
C) Take a little bit of time and think about something: If a friend of yours came to you with this exact situation, what would you tell her?
D) Finally, I think it's really important that you remember this: You don't have to stop liking her as a friend, or tell yourself that she's bad, or mean, or anything like that. But you might want to have a bus-riding friend who's a little more dependable and reliable. That might be a girl who isn't the most popular kid in the class...and you may be surprised how much you can grow to like someone whom you're overlooking right now!
Thanks for writing, and please let me know how it goes. I'll be thinking about you.
Questions? Conundrums? Comments? Leave them in the comment box, below, or email me at mrsditter@gmail.com.
And as always, thanks for reading.

Honoring a Deceased Parent's Birthday

2010-02-25T12:07:00.000-08:00

Today's topic clearly falls into the "Not That You Asked" category, but I'll bet I'm not the only one who celebrates her parents' birthdays...even though they're no longer living.

My mom would be 90 today if she were still alive, and yes, if you're doing the math, that means she had me late in life. Those seven kids she had before producing me? Clearly, just warm-ups for the main attraction.

Anyway, where was I? Mom. Right. And her birthday. And what, if anything, I do to commemorate it.

Over the last three years, I've done a variety of things on Mom's birthday. As best I can remember, they include the following:

1. Talk to her. Yeah, I talk to my dead mom. On her birthday, it's usually along the lines of "Thanks for having one last kid, and thanks for all the hard work you put in." Other days, I might be hollering at her for some leftover childhood piece of unfinished business. But I talk to her.

2. Write to her. Same as #1, only in letter form.

3. Email my siblings, who were the backbone of my childhood and are still part of the rock I stand on. Okay, that's an awkward mental image, given that backbones don't usually turn into rocks, but you get the idea.

4. Visit the cemetery and pour a little Starbucks on her grave. Really. She and Dad loved the luxury of going to Starbucks and getting a mocha.

5. Bring flowers from my yard and leave them on the grave.

6. Call her best friend.

7. Light a candle, either in real life or at Gratefulness.org, a terrific online community based on the teachings of Brother David Steindl-Rast and his colleagues. It's a network for grateful living (ANGeL, get it?). Check out this link of Br. David reading a short Billy Collins poem. Which has nothing to do with my mother's birthday, except she LOVED Br. David and loved poetry.

8. Sing "Happy Birthday" to her.

How about you? Any dead parents out there? What, if anything, do you do to remember them on their birthdays?

Comments, questions, conundrums...leave them in the comments box, below.

You can also contact me at mrsditter@gmail.com.

And as always, thanks for reading.

Not That You Asked: Toxic Friends

2010-02-23T15:15:00.000-08:00

Unless you've been hiding under a rock (as I tend to do on rainy days), you've missed some recent media buzz about toxic friends. Check out this video blog by Therese Borchard, who writes the Beyond Blue blog for Belief.net. Or take a look at this article by life coach Cheryl Richardson in the current Oprah Magazine. Or do a quick Google search on "toxic friends" and then choose from the 6.35 MILLION HITS that come up.

What's up with that?

It might just be our cultural propensity to label everything: If you're distractable, you have ADD. If your kids misbehave in public, you're an ineffective parent. And if a person persistently rubs you the wrong way, or if you feel exhausted after spending time with them, or you find yourself avoiding their emails and phone calls, you may be tempted to label them a toxic friend.

Fine. Do it. Slap the label on them.

But then step back and look at yourself from their point of view.

Hmm. Not so pretty, huh? There must be one or two things you've done that would legitimately piss someone off, right? There must be a pattern of annoying behavior that you've engaged in with at least one friend, right? Do you need to label yourself?

Well, do you?

Does labeling a pattern of interaction change the basics of what happened, or does it just make it easier to get a handle on what happened and then make a decision about how to proceed? Are we more comfortable when we can gather up a basket of sharp-edged incidents and say, "She did this, she did this, OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE SAID THAT, SHE KNOWS WE DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY RIGHT NOW, THAT WAS SO FUCKING INSENSITIVE, she did this, she said this..." and then take those incidents and label them "toxic"? Is that what we need to do before we can disengage ourselves from a relationship that we just don't want to be in? Do we need to justify leaving a friendship by giving it (and by extension, the other person) a poisonous label?

Why can't we just disengage? No drama, no fussing. No throwing shoes, as the funny and terrific Havi Brooks says. Just...stop.

While I don't disagree with the basic info in either the video blog (Borchard is an unusually honest and talented writer) or the Richardson article, I'm concerned that we're going to see a huge run on people labeling other people TOXIC.

And just what will that accomplish?

I've had friendships (short ones, thank the heavens) that I found emotionally exhausting for a variety of reasons, and I was grateful when those friendships ended.

On the flip side, I know I was the emotionally exhausting person in other short-lived friendships.

That's human nature. That's just how we are. Sometimes we fit together, sometimes we don't. In the cases I'm thinking of, if I'd paid attention to my inner self screaming "Red light! Red light! Not a good friendship fit!" I would have saved myself time, frustration and hurt feelings.

But out of those hurt feelings comes growth, and I'm grateful for that.

I just don't see the need to label it.

Questions? Comments? Leave them below, or email me at mrsditter@gmail.com.

And as always, thanks for reading.

Excessive Worrying and How to Stop

2010-02-22T13:33:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. D., These days I'm feeling bad about everything. The Republicans, global warming, food additives, cholesterol, eating meat, not composting, not recycling (enough), not giving to Amnesty International, or Emily's List, or The Farmworkers or Morris Dees or the Democratic Party, etc., etc. (can't afford it and who wants to employ charity triage?), going off my diet, my greying hair, my addiction to Hugh Laurie and mindless television, the disgusting state of American culture, pervasive violence against women in this country and all over the world, people who don't know the difference between "its" and "it's", Sarah Palin; I worry about the president, the economy, the terrible psychological toll of the job losses in this country, the greed on Wall Street, the upcoming elections, Sarah Palin, the religious right, Haiti, New Orleans...and much, much more. There doesn't seem to be any place to put my mind where things are good and decent. How many Jimmy Stewart/Henry Fonda/ Gregory Peck movies can a girl watch? Can you help? And please don't tell me about sunsets and rainbows, new babies and chocolate - well, chocolate maybe. Signed, Disconsolate
Oh, dear darling Disconsolate, I usually edit and shorten reader questions. However, yours was so heartfelt and, in its own way, funny, that it's one of the few I've used nearly verbatim (and did you notice the correct use of "its" and "it's" in that sentence? Yes, you're welcome.).
First off, by all means employ chocolate if that helps. I will NOT tell you to think about sunsets and rainbows, unless those make you happy. Don't think about new babies, because that brings on thoughts of sleep deprivation, massive amounts of laundry, post-partum depression, and years and years of responsibility and heartache and possibly visits to Chuck E. Cheese, none of which will improve your mood.
Seriously, though, there are a ton of things you can do to lift your mood. I'm just going to throw out the list of stuff that I've found helpful.
1. Easy, easy, easy, and profoundly life-changing: Keep a gratitude journal. Mine is an old spiral bound notebook that one of the kids discarded. If you prefer to go shopping for a finely bound, beautiful journal, go for it. But get something to write in, and here's what you do: Every night before you go to bed, write down five things you're grateful for. Anything is game: I'm grateful for the air I breathe. I'm grateful for my bed. For my internet connection. For today's sunshine. For today's birdsong. For Hugh Laurie and mindless television. For the water I just used to brush my teeth. For my toothbrush. For my teeth. You get the idea. I challenge you to do this for three weeks and not feel a lifting of your mood.
I try to do the same thing in the morning, but usually I just roll out of bed, think "Thank you," and get moving. Doing it at night is my current version of saying my nightly prayers, and it's lovely.
2. Walk. Preferably in the fresh air. Even if the fresh air is full of flying water droplets. Every day. Really.
3. If you absolutely MUST feel bad about things, set your timer for five minutes and spend that five minutes listing, out loud, everything you feel bad about. You could start with the wonderful letter you wrote me and go on from there. Sometimes just naming things takes the sting away.
4. Do NOT try to talk yourself out of your worries. You feel bad about certain stuff. You feel worried. That's reality.
However, don't believe everything you think.
5. Do NOT try to convince yourself that things will never change. Unless you are Psychic Queen of the Universe, you don't know that six months from now things will still look as bleak as they do today.
6. If you are feeling really down or anxious, see a psychiatrist and talk about mood-altering meds. Really. No shame in it. The study of brain chemistry is fascinating; the bad news is that the more you think a thought, the more deeply that way of thinking gets grooved into your brain (yup, just like a vinyl record). The excellent, exciting, terrific news is that YOUR BRAIN IS PLASTIC or malleable or whatever term you'd like to use. You can change those grooves with: medication, exercise, meditation, gratitude journals, piano playing, painting, deep breathing, praying, and on and on and on.
7. Increase your intake of water...not tea, not coffee, not Diet Coke. Water. Lots of it.
8. RIGHT NOW, go get a scrap of paper and write down five things you're grateful for. Email them to me, using the comments section below or go to mrsditter@gmail.com.
Questions? Comments? Love to hear what you're all thinking. And as usual, thanks for reading.

Gossip, Innuendo, Junior High Behavior...We Love Work!

2010-02-12T11:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, How do you deal with gossip at work? Recently, I had to tell someone that I didn't like her behavior--she was actually polling people about what someone else had said! She responded that the other person had lied to her repeatedly and she was just trying to get the facts.
I have a little influence here, but not the power to hire and fire. I don't want to get involved, but I can't stand this sort of junior high behavior.--Disgusted
Okay, first of all, you already ARE involved. You got involved by calling this person on her behavior. Also, check your language: "I had to tell someone that I didn't like her behavior--" No, you didn't have to. You chose to. Ugh, sorry if that sounds kind of harsh.
Also again: Do you know if the person being gossiped about actually HAD lied to the person doing the gossiping?
Is it possible that "junior high behavior" is being engaged in by both parties?
And now we get to the real crux of the matter: What can you do about it? Which means you first need to answer another question: SHOULD you do anything about it? If you choose to get involved in this situation, be really clear about your reasons why. Does it touch something in your past that you need to take care of? Do you have a knee-jerk reaction when people act like jerks? Do you dream of ridding the world of obnoxious people, one office at a time?
When you're clear about your reason for getting more involved, and if it still seems appropriate to move forward, you need to figure out how. If this person reports to you, then by all means bring up your concerns with her if a similar situation takes place.
If she doesn't report to you, I'm not sure what you can do. You say you have "a little influence" in the work setting--what does that mean? Does it mean you can talk to the gossiping person's supervisor? Does it mean that you can call a staff meeting and gently introduce concerns about workplace gossip and the harm it can do?
Or does it just mean that you can lead by example?
I wish I had a full-blown answer here, but I've puzzled over this situation for several days and nothing seems clear.
Then again, I've quit more jobs than any five people combined, so my workplace skills are obviously not razor-sharp.
Gut feeling? I'd keep my mouth shut for now but start looking for a program on workplace gossip. Or do a half-day program introducing The Work to your staff. Or maybe hire a facilitator of Non-Violent Communication to do a short training for your office. Let me know how it goes.
PS--Just found this book recommended in a book I'm reading (The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin): The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized Workplace and Surviving One That Isn't. Haven't read the book, so I can't recommend it, but it might be worth a look.
Questions? Comments? Leave them in the Comments box, below. And as always, thanks for reading.

You Don't Eat WHAT?

2010-02-05T12:54:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, All my friends seem to be deciding that they can't eat wheat, or cheese, or some other thing that is a staple of most human diets. Help me out here. What is the difference between a dietary need--like an allergy to peanuts--and a dietary desire--"I don't like to eat wheat because it makes me feel bloated"? Do I have to cook three different meals when I invite people to dinner? Run the menu past every single person (no eggs for her, no meat for him, she hates lentils, etc.)? Or just make a nice dinner
and hope they damn well enjoy it? -- Frustrated Cook
Hmm. I'd go with option C: make dinner and let them make their own choices from the food in front of them. But that's probably because I'm occasionally fed up (ha! see what I did there?) with the cooking situation at my house. I cook for one wheat-intolerant person, one lactose-intolerant person, one vegetarian, and one person who must have chocolate at each meal. And we all know who THAT is. But I digress, as usual.
Your question, I don't think, is really about what is the difference between a dietary need and a dietary preference. Anaphalactic shock and mild bloating are worlds apart. If you know your dinner guest is allergic to shellfish, don't serve it. Your question is more about what does a good host or hostess do when faced with a social world run amuk, a world in which people seem to expect others to unquestioningly acquiesce to the latest food fad or imaginary dietary hiccup?
Well, there's always the unstated Option D: Stop inviting people for dinner!
However, if you insist on being hospitable, you could ask when issuing the invitation, "Do you have any food allergies of which I should be aware?" That kind of sets the parameters right there: You're asking about allergies, not preferences.
Here's where control leaves your spatula-clutching hands: Once you have issued an invitation to dine, it's up to the invitee to say, "We'd love to come for dinner. Jordan is allergic to peanuts and I don't eat any animal products." Or "I only eat meat during a full moon; let me check my calendar." Or "I'm on a thirty day potato-free diet, but I can eat anything else." Or whatever they say.
So if they say they're allergic to something (and remember, you have opened yourself up for that information), make sure there are other dishes they can enjoy. But don't fret about it. If you make six dishes and they decide that four of them are off-limits, well, that's their choice. You've done your part.
As usual in these sorts of situations, common sense and common courtesy can go a long way toward making such a dinner pleasant for you and your guest. And let me digress once again: I'm allergic to shellfish, and there have been plenty of occasions when I've quietly made a delightful dinner by eating only side dishes. Sometimes, no one needs to know...something that we all seem to have forgotten in our disclosure-crazed world.
Comments? Below. Questions? Leave them in the comments. Anonymous, as always, is just fine. And thanks for reading.

Beating The Winter Blahs and Blues

2010-02-02T14:17:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, Please give me some suggestions for beating the winter blahs that don't cost too much or involve massive amounts of sugar...
Oh, honey, you came to the right place. For reasons that are probably painfully obvious, I have a whole bag of tricks for dealing with winter blahs, seasonal affective disorder (SAD), dark day depression, or whatever you want to call it. Read on for tips (most of them absolutely free and one damn cheap) to elevate your mood.
1. FREE! Get some exercise every single day. Yes, I really mean it. Unless you are so sick you can't get out of bed, you need to get your butt moving. I aim for an hour total each day, either walking hard with the dog or walking/running, but then I'm a hard case. Start with ten minutes and go up from there. I guarantee that if you do this for three weeks, every single day, you will feel better. Of course, you have to keep doing it. Think of it as a gift to yourself.
2. FREE! Get that exercise OUTSIDE if possible. Yes, I know. You live somewhere bitterly cold, or impossibly rainy, or just gross and slushy. So do I! Just put on your clothes and get out there. Your mother was right: Fresh air is good for what ails you.
3. CHEAP! Take Vitamin D supplements. This link focuses on women and Vitamin D, but the information is good for men and kids, too. If you don't have the time to click the link because you're too busy scarfing another half-dozen chocolate chip cookies, here's the basic info:
Your body is unable to create Vitamin D, which is not really a vitamin but a precursor hormone, or building block, for calcitriol, a steroid that regulates normal cell growth (among other things). Recently, a link has been shown between depression and Vitamin D deficiency. You need exposure to relatively strong sunlight, and a diet that provides Vitamin D-rich foods (fortified dairy products, wild salmon, etc.) to get enough Vitamin D. Most of us here in the Northern Hemisphere are Vitamin D deficient during the winter, and some of us are Vitamin D deficient most of the year. The current recommended daily requirement of 200 International Units daily appears to be way too low. Read the link for more specific info, but most adults can take up to 2,000 I.U.s a day. Some studies indicate that adults can safely process up to 10,000 I.U.s a day. I got my Vitamin D level tested a few months ago (a routine blood test), and it was in the basement. I now take 5,000 I.U.s a day. My kids take it, as well.
4. FREE! Stop sleeping so much! You are not a bear, and although our human bodies might feel as if they're going into hibernation mode during the winter, you are not, I repeat, a bear. So stop it.
5. FREE! Find something new to do, and do it. This does not include trying new chocolate chip cookie recipes. You know perfectly well that massive amounts of simple starches will bring you down, so step away from the oven and do--something else. Play the piano, even (especially?) if you do it badly. Go outside and shovel the walk, or do the fall clean-up that you've been cleverly avoiding by describing the mess as "winter shelter for the birdies", or ice skate or sled. Wash your windows inside and out. Or just inside. You get to decide. Get some crayons and color a picture--rainbow, flower, kitty cat, abstract masterpiece, whatever. Put on something other than that black turtleneck. Brush your teeth. Drink a glass of water. Now drink another.
6. FREE! Laugh. No kidding. Set aside ten minutes a day to laugh. You may need to start with two minutes and work up from there, but laughter has been shown to have a profound influence on mood elevation (translated from doctor speak: It Makes You Feel Happier). This is not a link to a scholarly article, but it does detail the many benefits of laughing: stronger immune system, reduced pain levels because of increased endorphins, a release of serotonin, and on and on.
7. FREE! Start a gratitude journal. Yeah, I know: yawn, barf, gag, New Age hoohah, spare me the sap, ick. But really? It works. Meister Eckhart, the German theologian born in 1260, wrote, "If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough." And he was like, smart, and spent a lot of time thinking about this sort of stuff. So grab a notebook (a ratty old one that that your children have used and abandoned will work just fine) and start writing. Every night, write five things for which you're grateful. If you can't think of anything, here's a FREE starter tip: Write down "I'm grateful for the air I breathe" and go from there.
8. FREE! Eckhart also wrote, "God is at home, it is we who have gone out for a walk." So do what you can to get yourself back home. Which is, I suppose, what this whole post is about.
Questions? Leave them in the comments section below.
And as always, thanks for reading.

Oh, Ye of Little Faith (or Trust)!

2010-01-13T19:58:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, I am staying with a friend who has invited me to help myself in her kitchen. Sitting on her counter is an unopened, Costco-sized box of my very favorite forbidden fruit: sesame snacks. It's been unopened all week and I can hardly contain myself. Should I take her at her word and help myself (I haven't had the guts to ask about these specifically), resign myself to abstinence, or wait up until she gets home tonight and beg? And how seriously, really, can I take someone when they say, "Help yourself"? I know I don't really mean it and am always shocked when someone eats the last of the chocolate, for instance...
Yours, Sesame Snack Deprived
Ooh, I like these two questions, the first one so specific, the second one so general. I also like those sesame snacks, and I cannot believe you've let the box stay closed this long. I would have asked her specifically about the sesame snacks while ripping open the box. However, I'm willing to bet that you go home at the end of your stay without having eaten a single one of those luscious, crunchy, sweet, snappy little sesame treats. Mmm. What you missed!
Let's look at your real question, though, which is "How seriously can we take people when they speak to us? How deeply can we trust the words that come out of their mouths?"

I think this varies for each of us. I also think you've answered that question, for yourself, anyway, in your very next sentence: You don't really mean it when you say "Help yourself." And so it's no surprise that you can't trust that anyone else really means it.
I grant you that finishing off the last of the 62% dark chocolate is somehow much different than making yourself a bowl of oatmeal, even though in a perfect world, both instances would be covered.
In general, I think we need to behave in other people's houses the way we would want them to behave in ours. So, because you "don't really mean it" when you tell other people to help themselves in your kitchen, it seems that you should tread lightly in your friend's kitchen, for your own peace of mind if for no other reason.
Just a thought: This second question obviously leads into a whole other discussion about how much can you trust people--not just in what they say about how you can behave in their house--but I'll just let you reflect on that on your own. Let me know if you have any epiphanies, or even small glimpses. For some reason, I think if you sit with this, you'll feel a little loosening up around this issue: Either you won't say "Help yourself to anything" if you don't mean it, or you'll find that you can say it and mean it.
Now go home and buy yourself some sesame snacks. Bon Appetit!
Questions for Mrs. Ditter? Leave them in the Comments section, below. And as always--thanks for reading.

Not That You Asked: Erg. January. Ugh.

2010-01-08T15:20:00.000-08:00

Not that there's anything wrong, per se, with January. Well, actually, there is, at least when I'm in my politically incorrect, un-evolved, crabby girl frame of mind.
Shall we count the horrifications of January?
1. The holidays are over but the cookie-induced weight gain lingers on.
2. The holidays are over but the house is not yet totally stripped of holiday stuff and it feels cluttered (yes, I can deal with this, and I will, but not today!).
III. The holidays are over and the kids are back at school and I have no further excuses for ignoring the blinking cursor on the blank screen.
D. The holidays are yes, you know, and outside it's a monochromatic blah of rain and clouds and grey sky and drizzle and gloom and dark and ick.
Five. The holidays are blah blah blah and the wind is screaming around the house and it's so cold I can't get up the courage to go outside for a run and also: See Item 1, about cookies and fat thighs, which means on top of everything else, I feel guilty for not getting more exercise, and I keep thinking about that last batch of ginger snaps sitting in the freezer.
So what we have here is a vicious cycle of despair, cabin fever, frigid-wind-induced earaches, and general low mood. Nice, huh? Makes you wanna hang out with Mrs. Ditter, doesn't it?
During my annual Holiday Conference Call with my three sisters, I mentioned that when I die, if it happens to be at the end of January, I will be furious. I mean, really. To go through that stinker of a month and THEN die? That's just adding final insult to ultimate injury.
Which leads me to another reason I hate January: I lost a brother in January, 30 years ago. Believe me, I've worked on being grateful for the terrific person he was, and remembering the funny and outrageous things he did and said, and telling stories about him to my kids, and laughing about him with my best friend, but even after all these years, it still hurts. After 30 years! Part of me wants to sit down and cry, and part of me is just shaking my head, amazed that after all this time, the deep feelings of grief can still--briefly, thank you God--overwhelm me.
I think about him a lot in January. I'm sure he would just laugh at me for still being angry that he died before he hit 25. And that he would urge me to stop stalling and get on with whatever is next on my list. And that he would remind me that life is short (and who knows that better than he?) and I'm not getting any younger. And really, who knows that better than I? See Item 1, above, for further proof that the old metabolism ain't what it used to be and that the once-fine machine is slowing down.
There may come a time when I don't hate January quite so much. I am not holding my breath for that time to show up.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some cookies to hunt down.
As always, if you have any questions for Mrs. Ditter, feel free to leave them in the comments section, below. Anonymity allowed! Comments encouraged. Thanks for reading.

Out With The Old?

2009-12-24T12:10:00.000-08:00

So, when is using the treasured (if somewhat broken) items and traditions a joy -- and when is it time to retire them? -- Anonymous

Oh, boy, that's a tough one. I had--note the use of the past tense--a small box of Christmas ornaments that I hauled out year after year, even though they were not strictly recognizable as "ornaments" by anyone other than myself. We're talking shards of glass barely hanging onto rusted wires. These things were dangerous. But they were OLD and they were FAMILY and they'd hung on MY tree or my PARENTS' tree or my GRANDPARENTS' TREE for millenium, and who was I to break the tradition?
At this time last year, the second Christmas after my mom's death, I sat with that box of broken ornaments on my lap for a long time and asked that question very, very seriously. Who was I to break the tradition of having old, broken things hanging on the Christmas tree? I cried, I held each ornament, I tried to remember who each one had belonged to. I sat very still and tried to get in touch with how I would feel if I never, ever saw each particular ornament again. My meditative state was interrupted repeatedly by The Kitten, who really does not respect such introspective states in anyone other than himself. His persistence reminded me that life is here, now, and demands to be paid attention to. Also, that sometimes I take things too seriously.

Because of The Kitten's help, I threw away most of the ornaments. I threw away the shards, and the shreds, and the shattered pieces of colored glass. Then I hung the two remaining ornaments on the tree. And as I did so, I could swear I felt about 900 pounds lifting from my shoulders. I think that's the way to make the decision: If you retire the tradition or the ornament or the battered but beloved table linens, will you feel lighter? Or will you feel miserable? Will the positive effects outweigh any negative effects that might be imposed on other people? Ultimately, no one can answer that but you. And maybe Your Kitten.

Not That You Asked: Aaarrrggghh

2009-12-23T09:32:00.000-08:00

And not aarrgghh in a piratey way, either. Aarrgghh as in Scrooge before his conversion. As in the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes. As in every stressed-out parent who's ever vowed to drag the Christmas tree out of the house and cancel the whole damn thing (see recent episode of
Modern Family).

I know I'm not the only one who really tries hard to make it all come together seamlessly during the holidays, but instead constantly comes up short. In this aspect, I relate to the angel with the purple robe. Not because she's an angel, but because she's been dropped and broken and hot-glued back together many times. You can see the cracks in her wings, the broken bits at the bottom of her robe, the chunk missing from her right wing. Some days I feel mended and cheerful, as she is. Other days--yesterday!--I feel as if I've been dropped and broken again, and I'm waiting for the Big Hot Glue Gun From The Sky to come along and put me back together.
This is a little worrisome: all these cracks and breaks, they make a structure less sound and more prone to additional breakage, do they not? How does that translate into our human experience? I know that the repeated stress involved with, say, weight lifting actually makes a person stronger as long as it's not overdone. The secret is knowing when to say "Enough."
And that little angel? I try to remember that she was created with love and delight and goofy joy. I like to think of our own incarnations taking place in the same manner.
Maybe that goofy joy is what I'm trying to recover and pour into these last few days before Christmas.
Thanks for reading.

Not That You Asked: Advent Musings 2009

2009-12-18T17:06:00.000-08:00

So my kids are done with school and I'm panic-stricken, almost. I still have shopping to do. The house is a mess, and with the kids home all day for the next two weeks, it will get messier. The needles are already falling off the tree, I'm trying to get deeper into the first draft of a manuscript, absolutely NO gift-wrapping has taken place, and I miss my parents badly.
If all of this isn't a call to slow down and take several cleansing breaths, I don't know what is.
So: Breathe. And again. And one more time.
A Jewish friend asked me a few days ago about the meaning of Advent. A stock answer would be something like this: It's when Christians reflect on and celebrate "the reason for the season," e.g. the birth of Jesus.

I hate that little five-word rhyme, by the way. It's accurate, but strikes me as being almost unforgivably smug. There are lots of reasons for the season in this multi-cultural world in which we live and move and have our being. Families of all faiths and creeds gather. Presents are exchanged to mutual delight and/or horror. Meals are shared, hikes are taken, movies are watched, gossip is bandied about, memories taken out and turned over and given a good polishing before being tucked away for another year. New relationships, new lives are celebrated, and endings are mourned, processed, respected. Or not: family gatherings are notorious for digging up old hurts and inflicting new ones, despite our best intentions.

Advent, for me, is a time of questioning. What does it mean that I celebrate Christmas? How do I bring the spirit of Christmas into my interactions with my family, friends, strangers? What effect does being a liberal, left-wing, Bible-as-story-but-not-as-inerrant-word-of-God, post-modern Christian have on my daily life? What effect do I WANT it to have? Who is Jesus Christ to me, anyway? Why do I pray? Why, other than the gifting and gathering parts of the holiday, do I celebrate Christmas? What parts of the Christmas story really resonate with me, and why? What does it mean that Jesus was born in poverty, and his first visitors were poor shepherds and their fluffy but undoubtedly smelly little sheep friends. Also, today: Where the hell did I leave my iPod, and do I buy myself another?
What questions are you asking yourself as we head full-speed into the gaping maw of Christmas? I look forward to your comments.
As always, if you have questions, you can leave them in the comments section, below.
Thanks for reading.

Breaking Back In

2009-12-14T11:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter, My husband passed away three years ago, and I'm going back to work after having been home with our kids the past 11 years. I've decided to pursue freelance writing as it best suits the needs of my family. I've been volunteering at a non-profit radio station for the past several months. I thought it'd be a great way to build up my portfolio, and if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position.
Instead, I've been doing data entry, stuffing envelopes, answering phones. I'm beginning to think this is all a big waste of my time when I could use the time I give them WRITING.
I will not apologize for having spent time at home raising our kids, but I'm not 22 years old any more, I had a career before kids, I've already done all this entry-level stuff and it doesn't feel like it's getting me any closer to my goal as a freelance writer!--Frustrated Family Support
Dear Frustrated Family Support: First of all, ouch. Other than the widowhood piece, our stories are very similar. I had a freelance writing career for many years, stopped working to raise our kids, and have been trying to get back to freelance paying work for a while now. It. Is. Tough.
About your specific case, however, a couple of things jump out at me:
First, you say that freelance writing best suits the needs of your family. Is that because you can do it on your own schedule, or is that because you love writing, you're good at it, and you want to move it from being a hobby/pleasant diversion to being a source of income? Also, you don't specify what TYPE of freelance writing you're interested in. I'm assuming it's business-oriented, as opposed to writing books, but I could be misreading your letter.
Second, I'm intrigued with your choice to volunteer at a radio station. Were you hoping to be assigned writing projects there, such as sponsorship announcements or newsletter copy? If so, I can see why you're frustrated with performing clerical duties.
Third, either you want to pursue a freelance writing career or you don't--It's not clear to me that you're clear, because you say "...if all went well, maybe even land a part-time position."
What I DON'T see in your letter is the following: "I've talked with my boss, reminded her of why I volunteered in the first place, and let her know that as much as I love being here, I need 1) work that is 2) in my area of interest/expertise so that I can 3) concentrate on supporting my family." In other words, if she won't give you writing assignments, you need to find a place that will.
So talk with her. If she promises you writing assignments but they don't materialize, it may be time to move on.
Here are my other suggestions, for what they're worth:
**If what you really want to gain from volunteer work is writing experience, contact your local neighborhood newsletter, if there is one. Or your local elementary school/PTA. Or your church. Or a favorite charity. Tell them you're a writer, you have ten hours a month to volunteer, and you'd be happy to work for them. Be really specific, or you'll end up doing clerical work again. And while that may be the way to work up the ladder at the radio station, it doesn't seem to be the best choice for you right now.
**Contact ten advertising agencies--small, medium and large-sized. Tell them you'll provide twenty hours of free copywriting services during the month of January. One of them might take you up on it, and if they don't send work your way after the month is up, they might refer you to other potential clients.
**Try the same thing with websites that you like, offering free services for a month (or three free articles, or something like that).
**Try the same thing with corporations that are large enough to have communications departments.
**Find and join a local writer's group--most metropolitan areas have quite a few. Libraries often host writers groups on a monthly basis. Bookstores do the same.
**If you can afford it, a writing class at a local community college or university might be helpful (depending on what sort of writing you want to pursue).
This is an extremely hard time break in as a writer, and my heart goes out to you. My own portfolio is so dusty that it looks as if mice have been nesting in it.
Best of luck, and let me know how things go over the next several months.
And as always: If you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, leave it in the Comments section at the end of this post. Thanks for reading!

Holidays! Divorce! Recalcitrant Teenagers! Dogs! Ho Ho Ho!

2009-12-08T18:48:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Ditter, Do you have any good ideas for how a family can "do the holidays" when everybody keeps being unavailable? We have some extended family and we used to all get together and it was fun.
Now, the extended family is rife with divorce, two mommies and daddies, kids who would rather play their Gameboys than have a conversation or even shut up and read, others who have weird work schedules and work on Christmas Day, etcetera.
The few of us who are not working, not divorced, not rude are in a quandary. I say, "Let's go to the coast!" He says, "Let's not." She says, "That's just as much work." He says, "What about the dogs?" She says, "Mom, we're Jewish." I say, "So skip the holidays." He says nothing. She says, "Well...."
I say, "I'll ask Mrs. Ditter." -- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous: Ugh. You're in that spot where none of us want to be, but most of us arrive: It's not as much fun as it used to be and WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO CHANGE, ANYWAY? It will never be that same way again, and that's the cold truth.
So before I trot out any trite ideas about making your own holidays (all of which you will have thought of and quite possibly rejected), I strongly suggest that you take a moment, an hour, a day if you need to, to mourn the death of your family holiday tradition. I don't care if you write a journal entry about it, go for a long hike and rant and rave, sit in the tub and cry, shut yourself in your room and pray, or write the words "Family Holiday Traditions Before It All Went to Hell in a Handbasket" on a log and burn it in the fireplace, chanting long strings of swear words under your breath as the smoke goes up the chimney. The point is, do something to acknowledge to yourself on a deep level that something you really enjoyed and valued is gone.
Okay, with that out of the way, you can move on to making new holiday traditions. I'm interpreting your question to mean you want to do something with your extended family, not the immediate family with whom you live.
One way to do this is to throw a party, invite everyone, and have a good time with whomever shows up. They may be surly and constantly connected to their Gameboys/texting/iPods (oh, those wacky preteens!); they may be anxious about running into an ex-spouse; they may be just as sad as you are at the changes that time have wrought. But if you give people the opportunity to gather, they just might.
Or: Throw a game night. Really. It's fun.
Or: Reserve some lanes at a bowling alley and let everyone know.
You could also send around an email asking everyone to join you in serving a meal at one of the local homeless shelters. Or meet up with you at a local bookstore. Or join you at church/temple/movie theater. Or for a hike.
And finally, your word choice "...everybody keeps being unavailable" is kind of interesting. Maybe the unavailables just don't want to participate. Honor that. Invite them, but don't try to guilt them, which will just drive them further away.
Now, if I've misread your question, and you're just wanting to "do the holidays" with your immediate family, the door is open even wider. Grab a big old piece of paper and over the course of the next week, have everyone write down a few things they'd like to do as a family. Then do some of those things! You may find yourself on a day trip to the coast, or helping out at the Humane Society for a few hours, or roaming around a bookstore for several hours, or at an art museum, or skiing for a day. One or two of the activities will probably score high enough that you'll repeat them next year.
And if it were me? I'd stay home, stock the fridge, make some cookies, light a fire, get a huge honkin' pile of books, and then curl up with the books, the dog, the cats, whoever of the family wanted to join me, maybe some cheesy old movies...and I would just relax. That's as good a tradition as any.
What do you think, folks? Any suggestions?
Anonymous, please let me know what your family ends up doing.
And, as always, if you have a question, leave it in the comments section.

Mom Plus Adult Daughter Equals Fireworks

2009-12-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter: My wife has a child who drives her (and me) nuts. Whenever we go to her daughter's house, my wife spends the first few hours picking up, cleaning, doing dishes, washing and folding laundry and generally trying to help out. Her daughter doesn't say thanks but instead gripes about my wife's "meddling" and is generally negative about attempts to make her life easier. Is this a mother/daughter thing? My wife is at the end of her rope and doesn't know whether to just quit trying or to risk a fight by bringing up the issue--Supportive Husband
Dear Supportive Husband: Wow! Lots of potential for mother/daughter drama here.
The first thing I would point out is that the daughter is sending extremely clear messages that she DOES NOT welcome your wife's help. So how about your wife immediately stops all housekeeping activities at her daughter's house? This would respect her daughters' unspoken (yet very strongly stated) desire about how she wants your wife to behave while in her house. Key words here: HER house.
Second: Yeah, I know, some women would be thrilled to have this sort of assistance from their moms. Others, and apparently your wife's daughter is one of them, view this as intrusive behavior. She may perceive the "help" as a negative comment on her ability to do laundry, clean the house, be a responsible adult, blah blah blah. Your wife's intention is not the point here; the point is how her daughter interprets it.
Third: You don't specify that the daughter has kids, but I'm assuming she does. If grandkids exist, would you and your wife consider taking them out to a movie, or to a playground, or even around the block several times on their bikes or in their strollers? When my kids were young, I was incredibly grateful when relatives took the kids on an outing, even a short one. Time alone is precious, and it may be that this is the best way to help.
Fourth: Just how long are these visits? If your wife spends the "first few hours" of each visit picking up, cleaning, etc., then maybe you're staying too long if you live in the same town. Try cutting down the length of the visits.
Finally, as to whether or not your wife should talk with her daughter about it, well...do they usually talk about things openly? Based on your reporting of the situation, that seems unlikely.
If your wife wants to talk about it, she could approach it this way: "Honey, is there anything we can do? We'd be happy to take Little X and Baby Y out for a walk, or I can fold that basket of laundry. I don't want to intrude, but I do want to help. Let me know what you'd like from us."
And then if the daughter says, "What I'd like from you is for you to sit down and relax/realize I don't keep house the same way you did/take my children out for the afternoon," bingo. You have the start of a real conversation.
Thanks for asking, and I hope this helps.

Not That You Asked: A Gift Guide for the 2009 Holiday Season

2009-12-07T09:30:00.000-08:00

This has been a tough year for our family, but we're sticking to our holiday traditions: great big old tree; kitten climbing the tree and causing havoc; Christmas Eve pageant at our church, and then dinner with my husband's family; stockings filled to the brim with ridiculous things like toothbrushes and oranges and hair accessories and tacky magazines and paperback books; presents under the kitten-savaged tree.
One of our family traditions, however, I almost let slip. For years now, we've had each kid choose a charity during the holiday season. Then we send part of the money we would have used on the kids' Christmas presents to those organizations.
For some reason, I didn't want to do it this year. I wanted to spend ththe entire Christmas budget on my kids, not on animals or people we don't know. After all, it's been a tough year for us. We could all use some extra goodies.
My reaction puzzled me, because I think of myself as a generous person. So I sat with my ugly unwillingness for a while, wondering what was underneath it.
Eventually, I realized that I was feeling closed up, fearful, unwilling to let go of what we have and resentful of people who have more.
Okay, brutal honesty time? That is a sucky place to be. A soul-killing place to be. A big old nasty Grinch place to be. Plus, it's no fun. And I don't intend to stay there.
So, onward:
Both kids want their donation to go the Oregon Humane Society.
I want my personal donation to go to Mercy Corps, a Portland, Oregon-based relief organization that operates all over the world. Their projects that provide clean drinking water to villagers in Liberia are particularly dear to my heart--our city had a tainted water issue this past weekend, and I realized, perhaps for the first time, just how much we take clean water for granted.
My husband's undecided at this point, but in the past, his dollars have gone to an organization that brightens the holidays for local families in need.
My parents loved Heifer International, which may be one of the best known hunger-relief projects in the world. Our daughters have donated money in our names several times, and it is a fabulous present to receive.
If this sort of arms-length giving doesn't work for you, you could follow the lead of my Older Brother #2: He visited a local liquidation and deep-discount store, bargained up a storm, and bought 50 raincoats and 50 mylar blankets. Then he added power bars and bottles of water, and made up 50 bags that he's keeping in his car and handing out to homeless people all over town. That's awesome, and it would be just as awesome to do 5 bags, if that's where your budget is.
How about you? I'm looking forward to reading your ideas for charitable giving.
And as always, if you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, just leave it in the comments section.

How To Say No. Politely, Of Course.

2009-12-01T15:14:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter: I am desperately wondering how to say no when people ask me to do stuff all the time. I work from home (or 'work' as people call it, writing apparently not really being work. I recently almost poked one of my brothers-in-law in the eye over this exact point, but restrained myself--didn't want to spoil a family wedding!). I'm asked to do every voluntary thing in South-East England and I am hopeless at saying no. So now I end up working more hours than I did when I was working in a science lab all day! Help! -- Spineless Writer
Dear Spineless (which I suspect you are not): You are such a nice person, and such a competent one, as well. How do I know? Because people are asking you to do stuff! That means you're good at getting stuff done, and you're polite to people. Admirable qualities, indeed, but perhaps not what you need at the moment.
Now, before irate readers write in demanding equal time for the importance of volunteering, let's remind ourselves that people take on unpaid work for many reasons--some admirable, some more questionable. Many people volunteer because of the strokes they receive for being perceived as selfless, generous, and dependable. Some people volunteer because of the warm fuzzies they experience when making a contribution to something bigger than themselves. And some volunteer because their parents raised them that way. The point is, Spineless Writer clearly has done her share of volunteering. She needs to get back to herself.
So, okay, ready? Let's start with a quick review of Mrs. Ditter's Four-Step Program to Polite Assertiveness and Happiness.
First, remember the following four things:
Saying NO is not mean, dishonorable, petty, or selfish.
Saying NO can be done in an empathic manner ("Oh, I hope you find someone to watch little Bobby. I understand that you need a break.")
Saying NO can be done without being rude or aggressive ("Why the heck would I want to help with that project?").
Saying NO can be life-affirming and uplifting. Seriously! It opens up emotional and physical space for you, and allows you to attend to yourself and your current responsibilities.
Second, practice these two things:
A) Speech therapy. Here's what you do: Find a private space (it can be a quiet room, a closet, the shower, a barn, whatever). Now, stand up straight, take a deep breath, and practice saying the following things out loud: "NO. I can't. No, I can't help with that. I'm on deadline with my book. I'm already fully committed. No, I simply don't have the time available."
How convincing did you sound? Yeah, I thought so. Get back in the barn and try it again, more sincerely this time. Really put some truth and energy into it. If you don't believe the words coming out of your mouth, neither will the people who are listening to those words and waiting to pounce at the first sign of weakness.
B) Visualization. Quit rolling your eyes! This really works, IF you give it a chance. Get comfortable either sitting or lying down, and watch the following movie in your head: Your phone rings, you pick it up, The Voice on the other end says, "Spineless! So glad you're in. The village council has a project that needs handling, and you're the PERFECT person for it." Here's where you stop The Voice cold: "Thank you for asking, but I'm fully committed right now and can't help out. I hope you find someone else to take on the responsibility."
Want to watch another movie? How about the one where you're cornered in the drugstore as you're reaching for feminine sanitary supplies? Roll that movie, too, and as your hand reaches out toward the Tampax, hear The Voice: "Darling, so glad I ran into you. The school board all agree that you're the ONLY person who can run the auction for this year." And now watch and listen as you say, "What a compliment, but I'm extremely busy. I simply don't have time to take on any more responsibility."
Play those scenes, or whatever scenes are most likely to reflect your situation, over and over until you can refuse a request in your sleep.
Third, delete these phrases from your vocabulary: "I'm sorry. I wish I could. Please ask me the next time you need help."
Why? Because those phrases are not honest, and they take away from the power of your honest NO. You're NOT sorry. You DON'T wish you could help. You DON'T want them to ask you next time they need assistance.
Just how you go about deleting them is up to you. I suggest writing each phrase on a piece of paper and then setting fire to it. Woohoo!
Finally, you absolutely are NOT allowed to say: "I suppose I can squeeze it in. Yes, I can help." Write these down, douse them in gasoline, and light them up. Or...whatever method you choose. Perhaps something less violent would work for you.
Of course, eventually you'll come across something with which you really, truly, honestly want to help. And when that happens, you can say YES with an open heart and a joyful spirit. Until then, practice the power of an honest no.
Best of luck!
Questions for Mrs. Ditter? Leave them in the comments section, below.

A Really Important Post on Forgiveness

2009-11-30T09:17:00.000-08:00

Jeff's comment is long, but it's worth reading.
"I have to confess: I have reacted badly to others' behavior. I have cussed and stewed and gestured and engaged in totally inappropriate behavior while driving. I was an angry driver, and when I arrived at my destination, I was angry and annoyed by everyone around me. While driving, I made myself more and more angry each time the car next to me changed lanes without signaling or someone ahead of me slowed way down because they were confused by the construction signs. I was reacting. I was a 'reactive' being. (Mrs. Ditter note: Look at Jeff's word choice: I made myself more angry. I love how he takes responsibility for his emotional reaction.)
"Eventually, I realized this behavior was making me toxic and sick. So I changed MY behavior. I chose to smile instead of frown. I chose to wave my hand instead of just one finger. I chose a different emotion...I chose to be calm.
"By practicing this in traffic, I became less angry and annoyed by other things. I stopped mumbling sarcastic remarks under my breath in traffic and in the office. I chose to smile. I realized that just like anything else in life that I wanted to be good at, it takes practice, it takes rehearsal and it takes planning.
"The second key was the discovery that if I visualized myself as an 'observer' instead of a 'participant' in a heated exchange, it was easier for me to choose how I reacted. Again, this takes practice and anticipation and planning. (Mrs. Ditter note: Practice, practice, practice. He's not saying it's an instant miracle solution.) I practiced at work with co-workers and with customers. I didn't get sucked into the negative void they were creating in their world. I chose to stay 'neutral', which is quite different from disengaging or 'unplugging'. We all know people like this, and I didn't want to become a cold fish or an uncaring person. So again I chose to stay engaged and I chose not to react emotionally. I was thoughtful. I was in the moment. And I was able to keep my end goal (whatever it might be) in my mind's eye. And people responded to me differently.”

I just don't have anything to add to this, other than to say: Jeff, you are a huge inspiration. Thanks for writing.
See you tomorrow, folks.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T07:26:00.000-08:00

I'm grateful for every single one of my readers--and I'm especially grateful for the questions and comments you've left over the last few months. Thanks for helping me start my blog! I hope every single one of you has a terrific Thanksgiving, and that you take at least sixty seconds to take a deep breath and say "Thank you" to God, the Universe, your miracle of a body, or whatever works for you.
Now, back to the kitchen...

Queen of Denial Rants and Raves

2009-11-20T12:01:00.000-08:00

So we're still dealing with anger and forgiveness and how to get from the first to the second. I love today's messages. Read on for enlightenment!
First up from Ellen:
I am (perhaps unfortunately) a firm believer in avoidance. If the dastardly individual with whom I'm (obviously righteously) pissed is not someone I have to interact with, I simply avoid them...forever. Anger has a way of fading over time, whether we want it to or not.

If I absolutely cannot avoid the cretin, then I use the "step through the curtain" technique. Imagine a curtain in front of you (made of glass beads, silk damask or whatever works for you). Step through the curtain and leave the anger on the other side. It's now hidden behind the curtain and is firmly in your past - you can ignore it because it's no longer in your face. Denial. It's a wonderful thing--Ellen
Anonymous writes:

I've found that only two things really work for me in the anger-releasing-let-it-go-and-move-on-department. 1) A very, very long walk with the dogs, preferably somewhere remote where I can rant unobserved--it helps if the weather is truly appalling for a bit of added drama. Sometimes the physical exertion seems to replace the mental anguish. 2) A very, very long grumble with a select group of long-suffering friends over several glasses of wine. Usually by the end of the evening the bad stuff has become really quite funny, sometimes hilarious, at least for a while.
Anonymous, I suppose you could combine your two methods by wrapping yourself in a curtain and forcing your friends to accompany you on a long walk in the howling wind and rain, while you swill wine from a bottle clutched tightly in your angry hand and rant long and loud. Don't scare the dogs! Minus the wine, that would work beautifully for me.
Ellen, I'm impressed that you can leave your anger on the other side of the curtain. When I bring up that image, I see it seeping back around the edges of the fabric. Clearly, you're a more evolved being than am I.
And Anonymous, you bring up a point that an earlier respondent made: Hard physical exercise blunts, dissipates, dissolves, whatever term you choose to use, really helps with the process of letting go of the anger and getting further down the road toward forgiveness.
Stay tuned, folks. More fun stuff next time!

Really Angry? Try One of These Tips

2009-11-18T16:51:00.000-08:00

Dee writes: First of all, acknowledge that you are angry and hurt. Then do something to release the anger, hurt, frustration, and resentment. For example: Write the person a letter and really let them have it, tell them everything you want to say, call them names, rip as hard as you want. Then throw the letter away, tear it up, burn it. There's something about watching it go up in smoke that truly feels like you're getting rid of it. Flushing it down the toilet works too!
Another way to get it out is to do something physical. Maybe run until you're exhausted or hit something (preferably something that won't hit back, break, or hurt you when you hit it). Once I took a dozen eggs and, one by one, threw them in the bathtub--HARD, watching each one smash to pieces. Of course, once that was over I had to clean it up, but even that was sort of healing, like cleaning up the mess was part of the process.
Finally, and this is the most important part, you need to let it go. LET IT GO. Holding on to the anger is not hurting the person that you are upset with, it's only hurting you. Once you truly make up your mind to just let it go, it can no longer have a hold on you.--Dee
So I think this is a little off the topic of forgiveness techniques (Dee, just HOW do you let it go?), but I love these tactics for dealing with horrible, raw anger. I'm reminded of a time soon after my brother died when I took all the dining room chairs and threw them across the room. Then I had a good, hard cry. And then I felt a tiny little microscopic bit better.
I think you're right that forgiveness is easier AFTER you do something really physically taxing. I always feel better after a hard run, or some really tough work in the yard (or...throwing chairs around the dining room...). Dee, I love your point about cleaning up the mess being part of the healing process.
More tomorrow!

Aunt Needs Christmas Gift Ideas!

2009-11-18T08:29:00.000-08:00

I am the BEST AUNT in the world! I'm lucky enough to spend a lot of time with my nieces and nephew. I know them pretty well, but as they get older, it's harder to figure out what they would like for Christmas. I have three nieces, age 8, 11 and 14, and one nephew, age 11--World's Best Aunt
Well, this brings back a painful holiday memory! Hang on there, World's Best Aunt, while I over-share.

The year I was eight, I stumbled into my oldest sister's bedroom (she was home from college) and there, in all its glory, was a knitting machine for kids my age! The brightly colored box showed a happy girl holding up a beautiful scarf that she had supposedly knitted herself using the machine in the box. I nearly wet my pants in excitement. But on Christmas morning, as the pile of presents got smaller and smaller and NO KNITTING MACHINE APPEARED, I was thrown into the depths of despair. It ended ugly, let me tell you. Turns out College-Age Sister had purchased the knitting machine for her boyfriend to give to HIS eight-year-old sister. And no, I don't remember what gift I received from her that year, just what I didn't get.
Okay, I think I can move on...

Since you get to spend a lot of time with your nieces and nephew, what are the chances of taking each of them out separately? This might be totally lame; maybe you already do this on a regular basis. But the kids I know in this age range LOVE spending time with their favorite aunt. So...a night out at a hockey game? A movie? Bowling alley? Swim center? Live theater? A hike and a stop at a favorite burger joint afterwards? Trip to a favorite bookstore with a $20 or $25 gift certificate?
Something my kids love, and I always loved, were magazine subscriptions. Stop laughing, you Internet-addicted types! The fun of getting something every month that's JUST FOR YOU is still pretty cool. And there are a ton of magazines out there just begging for subscribers. In no particular order, and without separating for gender or age, how about: American Girl, Discovery Girls, New Moon (our personal favorite; the true voices of real girls come through in this publication, although it's not for every family, given its frank discussions about issues that most magazines shy away from), Teen Vogue, Seventeen, Boy's Life, Any One of The 5,231 Magazines That Focus On Animals (Your Golden Retriever; Ferret Times; Snakes and You, Backyard Chickens).
How about a disposable digital camera, or, if your budget runs to it, a cheap digital camera? Also:
Art classes, or an art workshop that you could attend together. A one-time cooking class. A skating lesson. A trip to her favorite clothing store (she'll be armed with a gift certificate from you, of course) and time for a Starbucks stop afterward.
If the kids are computer-savvy (and if it's okay with the parents), a subscription to an online game site such as Club Penguin might be a hit for the younger kids. And I won't even get into the many, many computer games for fear of showing my extreme ignorance of such things.
Also: We've scored countless times with gifts from the following catalogs: HearthSong, Chinaberry, and Young Explorers.

You could, of course, look for a knitting machine, or a loom, for the eight-year-old. Just a thought.
Readers? Any ideas for World's Best Aunt? Leave them in the comments section.

In Which Mrs. Ditter Admits She is a Deeply Flawed Person

2009-11-16T09:05:00.000-08:00

But you knew that already. And so here we go with the second in our line-up of forgiveness tactics and practices. Today's first comment comes from janeannechovy:
I've always thought that forgiveness really is the same thing as repentance. If you don't want to hold on to all your old mistakes, why would you want to hold onto someone else's? It's all just baggage that weighs you down.
This is, of course, true and brilliant and wise. But sometimes my baggage seems to be permanently attached to my body, no matter how hard I try to leave it behind. And so I struggle to translate the truth of "Leave your emotional baggage at the celestial curb" into actual practice. However, janeannechovy's comment is going up on a wall in this house! It's a great reminder of the importance of staying in the present moment.

For those of you who are as wackadoo as me, here is a terrific breathing meditation. It comes from Julie:

Imagine your anger (or fear, pain, sickness) in the form of thick black smoke. With your imagination, collect all the thick black smoke in your lungs (at times, it may seem to be coming from your head or a place of tension or injury in your body). On your next exhale, imagine the smoke leaving your body, whooshing out through your nose. Picture it going far out into space where it can't bother anyone else. Continue this until all the smoke has left your body. Some days, this takes longer than others...!
You can add a second step: On the inhalation, imagine that you are breathing in pure, white light, which carries with it peace, inspiration and healing.

I love this technique. I've used it already and am going to add it to my grab-bag of Instant Calming Techniques (yes, there is an actual list of things I do to calm down. Leave me a comment if you'd like me to email it to you). Thanks, Julie. Also, you people who are NOT Julie may want to check out her blog at www.fromthecapricornsgarden.blogspot.com. Excellent, thoughtful writing and for those of us who are raising kids/teenagers, some funny stuff.

Thanks for reading.

Forgiveness Coming Right Up!

2009-11-14T13:52:00.000-08:00

First off, a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who sent in their thoughts on forgiveness--and their practical methods for finding that spot inside their soul. I'm going to lightly edit the responses and publish them over the next few weeks. I am insanely grateful to all of you! Also: The blog will be short on pictures for the next few days. Please forgive me for not entertaining your eyes!
First up, this comment from Therese:
Let me start off by saying the WORST kind of hurt, hardest to forgive, is when someone hurts someone I love.
This is what I do and it works every time. It's just harder than hell. I do it because I don't want those hooks in my brain.
1. I make a list of everything I want, at real depth. Like, "Respect from the people I work with, a sense of competence, deep and abiding love from my family, financial security, joy and flow in my daily life, etc."
2. Then I pray for them to have ALL OF IT...that's right, for the person I'm angry with to have all the stuff I want for myself.
I don't have to mean this. I just have to do it. And if I do it every day for two weeks, something in me shifts and I begin to see their wounds and griefs, and compassion overwhelms my anger. And then, if and when I have to see them again, I'm WAY different. So they can't help but be different too, or at least be uncomfortable. (The latter fulfills the biblical observation that if I treat my enemies with love it's like heaping burning coals on them! But the trick is, the burning coal bit can't be my PRIMARY goal--just forgiveness).

Thanks, Therese! I love this idea. It reminds me of that Buddhist practice where you pray for yourself, then for someone you love, then for someone you can't stand or are angry with, then for the whole Universe. Anyway, here I go to make my list of all the things I want at a soul level...and then I'm going to turn it around and aim it at the person I am (unfortunately) still ticked off at.

I'm thinking that if you're not a praying type of person, you could substitute the following: "I wish for (stupid jerk) to have deep and abiding love from her family. I wish for (stupid jerk) to have joy and flow in her daily life. I wish for..." You get the idea. If I were to do this, I would find a quiet moment, take a few deep breaths, and recite the list three times. Once a day. Two weeks. Then check in with yourself.

Yes Of COURSE I'll Forgive That JackAss...Just Not Yet

2009-11-12T08:40:00.000-08:00

Okay, folks. What do you do when you're smack up against a wall of anger and hurt and self-righteous justifications that you want to fling at someone because they have hurt someone you love (or you) really badly? I think this is a timely topic as we head into the holidays, but I'm having trouble writing a coherent post (probably because I am ROYALLY PISSED at someone right now. It's not you. The person doesn't even know this blog exists.). Please leave me your tips in the comments section (anonymous comments welcomed, as always). It can be anything from how to be pleasant in social situations to deep soul work on releasing anger. Thanks in advance for sharing.

Writer's Block

2009-11-07T10:33:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter,
I really love to write and I think I'm pretty good at it, too. But I have a couple problems: I have a hard time thinking up ideas for stories, and then, once I start, I lose interest! I don't know what to do! -- A Cute Little Kittycat

Ah, Cute Little Kittycat, you have come to the right place. Mrs. Ditter has years of experience in dealing with just this sort of thing, and here are a few suggestions.
For Story Ideas:
1. Rewrite a family story that you've heard 983 times. You know, the one old Uncle Ralph tells every year at Thanksgiving. Give it a different middle and a different ending and see if you like it better than the way he tells it. Do NOT feel compelled to share your version with him.
2. Write the story of your own first birthday. Yeah, make it up, unless you remember it extremely clearly.
3. Write the story of the day of your parent's wedding. Yes, make this up, too!
4. Flip through a magazine or newspaper, choose a picture, and write the story that goes with it.

5. Start with a line of dialogue that you've overheard or read or made up. Here's one I'm giving away free today (just for you): "Daisy is displeased," said Farmer Jones, glaring at his innocent-looking herd of cows. Go! Write the story!
6. Try writing as soon as you wake up in the morning...before you read the paper, before you check your email, before you have a cup of tea. Well, maybe not before the tea.
For when you get stuck:
1. Write where the energy is. You don't have to write a story straight through from beginning to end. You can start with the first sentence, skip to the middle, write the end, and then go back and connect the dots.
2. Start at the end, and write your way backwards.
3. Set a timer for five minutes and keep your pencil (or keyboard) moving. After five minutes, go for five more minutes. And then five more.

4. If you're stuck in the story, take a time out. Go shoot some hoops, or run up and down your driveway, or dig in your garden, or fold some laundry. Ten minutes, tops. Then go back to your writing and see if anything has shaken loose.
5. Take whatever you've written with you to bed at night and read it right before you fall asleep. You could even sleep with it under your pillow. Who knows? Inspiration could strike!
6. Just. Keep. Writing. Even if you hate what's coming out on the page, even if you think it's boring, even if you can shoot a cow through the holes in the plot.
7. Get a fresh piece of paper, and have a chat with one of your characters. Ask her a question and see how she answers it. What's her favorite color? What would she tell you about her first day of school in fourth grade? Does she have any siblings? Who's the last person she had a fight with, and what was it about?
Good luck, and let me know how it goes.
As always: If you want Mrs. Ditter to answer a question, just leave it in the comments section below.

I Can't Change! Everyone Needs Me To Stay The Same!

2009-11-05T12:04:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Ditter, I so agree with you that sometimes it's fear that prevents us from making a change and sometimes it's our responsibilities. But do you think that sometimes we use our responsibilities as the excuse for not making the change because we're fearful of the change? -- Carrie

OF COURSE we hide behind our responsibilities. Mrs. Ditter has hidden behind her home-front responsibilities for years now (kids, laundry, carpool, emotional support, cooking, cleaning, blah blah freakin' blah). It's totally understandable. It's also totally deadly after a while.
This sort of hiding narrows your world, and keeps you from becoming the person you're here to become. At least, that's the way I see it.
And please note: I am using the term "YOU" in the general, not the specific sense. Okay?

Anyway, I wonder if it's not that you're fearful of the change. I wonder if you're more fearful of what the change will mean in your life and in the lives of your loved ones.
Let's say the change is that you decide to run every morning, or become a landscape architect, or write a book (OH YES I DID JUST PULL THAT LAST ONE OUT OF NOWHERE). So the change is: you set your clock earlier and lace up your shoes and get out the door; you research and apply to horticultural degree programs; you plunk your butt in the chair every day at the same time and write even if it makes your nose bleed from anxiety and self-loathing.

The change is not all that scary. But what happens to you and your loved ones if you truly commit to the change can be very scary, indeed.
Your kids might have to get themselves ready for school and they will resent this. You may have to dip into family savings or take out a loan for education costs and this might freak out you or your partner. Your book might be a best-seller, or it might be a total flop, or it might not get published at all and you will die of humiliation.
The scenarios are endless. Make up whatever doomsday plot fits your situation best! Just remember, you will be a different person after you commit to and follow through with the change. And there's no way to know who exactly you will be. Which can keep you hiding behind your responsibilities for a long, long time. Which is totally fine, unless your heart is burning for that change.
By the way, Carrie, you win the prize for being the first person to ask Mrs. Ditter two questions! Send me your address and I'll send you some chocolate.
As always, I look forward to comments and questions. You can leave questions on any topic in the comment section of the blog. Anonymous questions welcomed!

Woof Woof Woof GGGGRRRRRRR

2009-11-02T10:50:00.000-08:00

Dear Mrs. Ditter,

I have a good friend, whom I'll refer to as GF; we often walk our dogs together. When I went on vacation recently, GF took care of my dog, Ms. X. Before this trip, GF made it clear that she finds my dog loud and unpredictable. This is somewhat true, but I also find that I do much better handling Ms. X when I am alone than when I am with GF, in part because GF is always letting me know what I should be doing different.

While I was on vacation, GF trained Ms. X to stop barking when she thinks someone is leaving the house. This is a good thing, and I feel grateful. But I am also a bit irritated. First, because GF didn't ask my permission to train her, and second, because when we next went on a walk and I called Ms. X back to me, GF called her too (she has done this before). I said, "GF, she is my dog. Please let me call her myself." Her response was to tell me why my way of doing it was wrong.

I get it that she's a better dog owner than I am. But Ms. X is my dog, not hers! I am a more rambunctious person generally, and I don't dislike all of Ms. X's loudness.

I think I probably need to say something about this to GF. Or do I just need to suck it up and live with it? After all, GF did me a favor. I also think I need to find someone else to care for my dog, no matter how inconvenient that might be.

What do you think?--Ms. X's Human

Oh, my. Many of us have faced this dilemma with our kids; sounds as if you're going through it with your dog. Your parenting skills are being called into question and it doesn't feel good.

A couple of thoughts here: First, your friend, although she sounds like a terrific dog trainer, appears to have underdeveloped social skills. You've been politely clear with her about your wishes (asking her not to call your dog), and she's responded by telling you what you're doing wrong. No wonder you feel irritated. However, you may need to take her as she is and not expect great empathy or connection.

Second, you might want to examine your thought that "GF is a better dog owner" than you. You're a different person, you enjoy having a more rambunctious dog, you're not abusing your dog in any way. Stop throwing shoes at yourself.
Third, definitely find someone else to take in your dog when you go on vacation. You're on an emotional hook with this person and it's time to release yourself from any further sense of obligation.
As far as saying something to your friend or just sucking it up, hmm. She's already shown that she doesn't hear you when you talk to her (sounds like some dogs I know!). You might try this: On your next walk, if she calls Ms. X, tell her that you don't want her to call your dog. If she again tells you that you're doing it wrong, tell her that's not the point. The point is Ms. X is your dog, and you are the one to call your dog, and you want her to understand and respect this. Her reaction might point out whether you have a true friendship or just a dog-connection.
It's hard to sustain a close friendship with someone who is always pointing out your deficiencies. If you value GF's dog training tips, then by all means keep walking with her. But if her lack of respect for your wishes is poisoning your friendship, you may benefit by stepping back a little.
Let me know how it goes.
And as always, I look forward to your comments and your questions.

Fences Make Good Neighbors, Unless Your Neighbor is a Jerk who Builds an Ugly Fence

2009-10-30T10:46:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Ditter,

I have neighbor issues with the rental house next door! Three years ago the owner introduced himself and said he was going to replace the fence. He asked if we would be willing to share in the cost for the side that we share. My husband and I got a few quotes, and later, the son of the owner knocked on our door with their quote--an outrageous amount! We politely declined to pay. A few months ago, they started removing the old fence without notifying us. They built a really ugly fence, nine feet tall, which is against the neighborhood association rules, and it is leaning into our yard. Then, a hand-written invoice for "our portion" of the fence appeared in our mail box. Should we just ignore the invoice or try to find the owner (he has never left us contact information)? I don't really think it is worth discussing. -- All Fenced In
Dear All Fenced In,
You're right. It's not even worth discussing. It's your neighbor's responsibility to build and maintain his fence. Plus, you clearly stated that you would not help with the cost. You're in the clear here. It may be that he tossed the invoice in your mailbox on the off chance that you would throw some money his way. Don't do it!

The bigger issue here, of course, is when do we stop being polite and start being assertive (yes, many of us have problems being politely assertive). Ideally, we strive to be on good terms with our neighbors, or, in this case, with the owners of the neighboring homes. Sometimes, however, the neighbors don't seem to be as interested in being on good terms with us, even if we're the most polite people in the world and we never encourage our dogs to poo on the neighbor's lawn, or have EAR-BLEEDINGLY LOUD, MUSICALLY CHALLENGED GARAGE BANDS practicing for hours at a time, or have parties that go on outside until three in the morning and end up with setting off fireworks in the street.
Sorry, did I wander a bit there? Anyway, if I were in your situation, I would contact the neighborhood association and bring them up to speed on what's transpired, because your neighbor doesn't seem to want to be a good neighbor. So cover your butt, is what I'm saying.

I would also write a short note to the owner, and ask the current renters for his contact info. In the note, outline the facts. Stay calm. No name-calling! Refrain from telling him that he's a law-breaking, design-challenged cretin. You could certainly point out that the fence is leaning into your yard, but then you might have to deal with this yahoo trying to repair the fence, and I think we all know how that will end.
If it were me? I'd be at the nursery right now, looking for a long trellis and some mighty fast-growing vines.
Let me know what happens! I'm interested in the outcome.
Have a question for Mrs. Ditter? Leave it in the comments section below.

Blah Blah Blah You're Talking My Ear Off

2009-10-27T16:56:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Ditter, How do you deal with socially inept people who zero in on you at parties, church coffee hours and other events? They mistake my politeness for eagerness to listen to excruciatingly long monologues on software installations, cute things their cats did, etc. I finally cut them off or simply walk away in mid-sentence, but it feels incredibly rude. -- Trying to Escape

Hmm. We've all been there on this one, haven't we? Once in a while, we're even the person blathering on (oh, yes you DID hold that nice lady captive last Sunday. I saw you!).

Here are a few things to try when you're conversationally trapped:
1. Engage your compassion gene. "This counts as my good deed for the day. Am I looking as if I'm listening? God, I hope she shuts up soon."
2. Engage your compassion gene even more forcefully. I always think that behind every face, there's something eternal going on. The late John O'Donahue said that, and he was a wise man, so pay attention. While you're reciting your "Oh, poor me, I'm stuck with this boring old cow" mantra, remember that This Boring Old Cow may actually have something interesting to say. And even if he or she doesn't--especially even if they don't!--you may want to dig deep and just listen to them. You could even try to engage them in a real conversation, unless you're afraid your head will explode from the effort.
3. Okay, enough of that compassion crap. You've reached your limit, and you say, "I'd love to talk more, but I was hoping to connect with (insert name of someone else at the event), so I'll let you go now." And you walk away. Preferably in the direction of the person you just referenced.

Thanks for trusting me with your question. And, as always, if you have a question, leave it in the comments at the end of this post.

Does Fear Keep us Small? or, The Flaming Marshmallows of Anxiety

2009-10-26T12:11:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Ditter,
I'm stuck in a rut and can't seem to see my way out of it. Part of me suspects that I'm stuck here because I can't quite step up to making a change I know I need to make. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that announced "Fear Makes Us Small". Do you agree? What do you think it means?

Dear STUCK: Yes, of course fear makes us small. And fear keeps us stuck. Mrs. Ditter is an expert on this topic, having nurtured a ten-year case of writer's block out of fear of rejection.

But--fear also keeps us safe. If you burn your fingers making s'mores, if you drive your car off the road, if you fall off a skateboard and break your ankle, you'll most likely pay attention to that little jolt of fear that pops up next time you're tempted to (choose one) flame an innocent marshmallow, drive recklessly, attempt a halfpipe even though you're 53 years old and totally clueless on small, fast, unstable wheeled slabs of wood. You're going to stay safe. And that's a good thing.

There are exceptions, of course, but most animals (human and otherwise) operate in this fashion. And I'm not exactly the first one to have this insight. Way back around 500 B.C.E., Aeschylus said, "There are times when fear is good. There is advantage in the wisdom won from pain."

Staying safe out of fear carries an emotional and physical cost, however. Linked in with the message "Don't touch the fiery marshmallow!" is a small dollop of anxiety. Living in a constant state of anxiety takes a toll. Again, not an original insight on my part.

I'm intrigued by the first section of your question, however. You say you can't seem to see your way out of the rut. But you follow that by saying, "Part of me suspects that I'm stuck here because I can't quite step up to making a change I know I need to make."

If you KNOW you need to make the change, make the change.

And if you're truly not sure, ask yourself these questions first: If I don't make this change, how will I feel in six months? In a year? In five years? If I do make this change, how will my life be different in six months, a year, five years?

A note of caution (not fear!): If other people will be significantly impacted by the change that YOU make, please be sure to review the commitments you've made to them, and to talk with them, and to listen to THEIR fears, before you drop a huge change on their heads. Sometimes what looks and feels like being stuck in a rut is just slogging through the reality of day-to-day delivery on our commitments. It's not sexy, it's not exciting, but it might be where you need to be at this moment.

Thanks for trusting me with your question. And as always, if you have a question for Mrs. Ditter, leave it in the comments section below. I'm looking forward to hearing from you!

What If?

2009-10-22T10:29:00.000-07:00

I'm happy with my life...but now and then...most often at 4am...I lie awake wondering what might have been had I made different decisions along the way...what have I missed out on? It's not that I want a different life, just that I'd like to have a few more, going on in parallel. Mrs Ditter, do you have any advice on how to deal with this existential angst or should I just make a cup of tea and go back to sleep? -- Anonymous

Oh, I love this question. Haven't we all been there? What if I had/hadn't (choose one): gotten married to this person/moved across the country/moved back across the country/gone to this university/taken the bus that day/worn the pink lacy panties instead of the plain white ones. I think we can agree that greater minds than ours have tackled this question in the past. Lesser minds, as well. So by all means, brew up a fresh cuppa while we chew on it for a while.

First of all, maybe you DO have one or two other lives going on in parallel to this one. You wouldn't exactly know, would you, unless you stumbled across some strange wormhole in the fabric of time and space. At this very moment, you may be essentially yourself, but doing something totally different, in a different reality. That's a wierdly comforting thought, in a way. Makes you feel not so bad about all that untapped potential you're leaving lying around in THIS life.

Second, a great way to stop fretting about this is to write the script of that alternate life. Seriously. I've done it, and it's a blast. The next time you're staring at the ceiling at 4:00 a.m., get up, grab a fresh piece of paper or open a new document on your screen, and go for it. Give yourself the story of yourself, with different choices: You didn't leave the Midwest. You did marry that guy you dated in college. You had five kids instead of two, or one kid instead of six, or no kids at all. You studied science instead of art. You never got married! And on and on and on. Each new choice leads down a new path, sort of like those kids books that were so popular several years ago, where the readers got to craft the story as they went along. Does Amanda open the door into the scary room? If yes, turn to page 193. If no, turn to page 115.

Finally, you may enjoy checking out movies and books that have played with this concept. Terry Pratchett's Discworld series has a few books that explore time/space/alternate realities. The Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon begins with a woman transported back in time (as do many other books). "Sliding Doors" starring Gwyneth Paltrow and some random hot guys revolves around two alternate realities, based on whether or not she makes it onto the London tube or if she misses her train.

"The unexamined life is not worth living," said Socrates (and you can bet he's a greater mind than you and me combined). Examine away, what-if until your head hurts, and then come back to your current lovely, wonderful, terrific life.

And what if you want the lovely tea mug in the above picture? Lucky you. Just follow this link: http://www.kaboodle.com/reviews/bee-house-tea-mug--blueberry

The Short, Passionate Life, aka What Price Safety?

2009-10-21T10:02:00.000-07:00

This is our black and white kitty. Doesn't he look intimidating?

He's a naughty kitty. He's also very brave and very, very lucky: When he was a small kitten, he battled a coyote in our back yard until the dog and I got out there to rescue him. He's dodged the neighbor's dog on more than one occasion. Last week, he was two steps away from being trounced by a deer until I broke up the stand-off. And a few weeks before that, a neighbor reported that he'd seen our cat racing away from a coyote--in broad daylight.

Most of my cats have not attracted this sort of attention from the local wildlife. Most of my cats have qualified for Feline-AARP membership by the time they died.

But my black and white kitties don't do so well. The first one met up with a car. The second black and white cat flew out the door late one night when I had the dog out for, you know, late night dog issues. He never came back. And you know about the current black and white. Lucky, so far.

But lucky only takes you so far. So when a neighbor called to tell me that a pack of coyotes was hanging out behind her house, I hauled Mr. Naughty Cat inside. He's been inside now for two days.

He's going nuts. He's banging on the windows. He's yowling at the doors. He's following us around, winding around our legs, tangling himself in our feet. If we even think about heading to a door, he's there first. "Let MEEEOOOWWWT, let MEEEEOOOWWWWT."

I'm just trying to keep him safe. He, however, spits at the idea of safety. Safety is for wimps, for sissies, for Persians whose noses are too squashed to smell danger and battle it. Bring on the danger!

For me, raising kids is kind of like this whole cat thing. You spend all your time trying to keep them safe and healthy, and they just want to get out there and taunt the coyotes. "Bring on the danger!" they cry. "And, hey, Mom, could you make me a sandwich?"

Anyway, the question of the day is: Do we want our kitties to have a long, sheltered, indoor life with lots of safety, or do we want our kitties to have a (possibly) short but exhilarating life spent catching rodents, stalking dragonflies, sleeping in the catnip patch, and dodging coyotes? Please feel free to substitute "children," "ferrets," "chickens" or whatever you please for "kitties."

What's your vote? And please, no lectures about the dangers of cats being outdoors--I know all the research, I know all the compelling arguments for keeping them inside. Our family reality is that the cats go in and out as they please. Bring on the danger!

Leave Your Question in the Comments Section at the End of This Post!

2009-10-19T21:20:00.001-07:00

...and I'll get to it just as fast as I can.

Thanks for visiting!

A Little Rage Can Be A Good Thing

2009-10-19T13:13:00.000-07:00

After a hellacious divorce I gave up going to the church my former wife and I had belonged to for many years. My ex-wife still attends. Except for a very few friends, none of the parishioners ever offered any support to me. One of these parishioners asked me if I would support a fund raising pledge drive to increase the church's charitable outreach. I really wanted to take his head off. Any ideas on how I can let go of this? -- Mike

Well, Mike, my first response to your letter was, "Where's your machete?" **** that whole concept of forgiveness, personal growth, blah blah freakin' blah.

However, we'd rather see you as a happy, well-adjusted member of society than as the next news cycle's top story. So let's take a step back here.

First of all, you're wondering how to "let go of this." I'm wondering just what you want to let go of. The rage? The righteous indignation that, after the lack of support you received from what you THOUGHT was a community that loved and cared for you, a member of that community would have the balls (not to mention the lack of social skills) to ask you for monetary support? Are you trying to let go of the residual hurt that you're obviously still feeling from being, essentially, dumped by your spiritual family? They're asshats, by the way.

Does the situation suck? Yes, it does. Can you move on? Of course. But first, you have to ask yourself the sort of question that might cause you to throw your computer through the window. Here's the question:

What do you gain from holding onto the hurt and the anger?

AAAAGGGHHH! I hear you. You don't want to hold on. You're trying to let go. You thought you already had let go. You have the therapy bills and the sessions at Burning Man and the journals (some burned, some still sitting in your top desk drawer) to prove it. Also perhaps you have a new church home, or a new girlfriend or wife, or an entire new life that is so much better than the old one. It's not like you want to stay stuck in this place of unproductive anger and anger about the past!

Okay, if you're still reading, and not throwing things, go back to the question.

What do you gain from holding onto the hurt and the anger?

This has been, on several occasions, a life-changing question for me. Sometimes the answer comes in an instant, sometimes over the course of a few days. And I often find myself asking this question even after I think I've figured it out, worked it out, and gotten done with it. I'll be going along thinking, "Bingo, got THAT one fixed. Next!" when something pops up to show me that I probably have a little more work to do. And I can almost always drop the "probably" in that last sentence.

My point is, the rage and the hurt are like a big traffic sign, pointing you directly to the places in your life where you need to pay attention.

I think there's something to be said for realizing that we humans are just plain not perfect, no matter how hard we try. People WILL do things that hurt our feelings. And we WILL get angry, or hurt, or both. And we WILL beat ourselves up for not doing the adult, calm, well-adjusted bit about just letting go and moving on.

But sometimes, we can't live up to our own expectations. We can't move on. We stay stuck. Yeah, sometimes we even enjoy--just a little teeny tiny bit--being stuck. Look at me. I was so wronged by these jackasses! Join me in proclaiming their horribleness!

When I'm stuck, the fastest way I know to get unstuck is to do The Work. If you're familiar with this process, great. If not, read on, and then go to the website http://www.thework.com when you're done reading.

The Work of Byron Katie helps you examine your beliefs. I'm assuming that you have many beliefs all tangled up in this one interaction, but let's start with this one: Unthinking Parishioner should not have asked me to donate money to Unsupportive Former Church Home.

Now ask yourself, Is that true? If your immediate answer is HELL YES IT'S TRUE, okay, fine, I understand.

Let's go on to the second question: Can you absolutely know for certain that it's true that he shouldn't have asked? HELL YES IT'S TRUE HE SHOULDN'T HAVE ASKED. But face it, the fact is, he did ask. And if you tell yourself he shouldn't have, you're arguing with the reality of the past. And that is not an argument you can win.

Question Three (you'll want a pencil and a piece of paper for this): How do you feel when you believe the thought, "He shouldn't have asked me to donate money to that church"? I'm just guessing how you feel, but if it were me, I would feel angry, insulted, outraged. I would want to email him a really nasty message about his unbelievable insensitivity. I would get totally wrapped up in the whole damn thing all over again. I might be gathering materials for a stink bomb to place under his bedroom window, or perhaps importing moles into his front lawn. And I would be beating myself over the head for not having moved on from this place of anger and resentment (see reference to therapy, etc. above).

Bonus section to Question Three: Ask yourself these questions: How do I treat myself when I believe that thought? How do I treat him? How do I treat the other people in my life? What violence do I do in my thoughts to those jackasses who I thought were my friends? And how much of my time and energy goes into that?

Seriously, you should be writing like crazy right now.

Final question: Who would you be without that thought? Who would you be, right now, Mike, if you couldn't believe the thought "Idiot Parishioner with the social skills of a goat should NOT have asked me to contribute to the church that totally dumped me when I needed it most"? Who would you be without that story?

If you're still reading...time for the turnarounds. The first one is easy: He should have asked me for financial support because he DID. That's just reality speaking.

Can you turn the original belief around another way? This might be something like: I shouldn't ask him or the Former Church for support. Does this feel true? Are you asking him for something he can't give you? What might that be? I'm just guessing here. You're the one with the answers.

Another turnaround might be: I should ask myself for support. Does that feel true?

And another turnaround: I shouldn't have asked myself to support My Former Church Home. Okay, for some reason, this one feels really true to me. But again, it's your work, and I'm just guessing. Is there still a miniscule part of you that wants to support your former church (which probably does a lot of good in the community), a part of you that wants to show you're past it all, a very strong part of you that wants to be generous even though those lousy bastards turned their backs on you? Just asking. Again, I could be totally wrong.

I urge you to go the home page for The Work, click on "The Work" and then click on "How to do The Work." You can download worksheets and guidelines. It's all free. You can even call the free hotline and work with a certified facilitator, and I highly recommend that. Did I mention it's all free? Because it is. The facilitators donate their time, and they've been through a TON of training.

Please understand that this process doesn't excuse anyone else's bad or thoughtless behavior. It just helps you work with the beliefs that stand between you and peace. The Work isn't about what someone else did; it's about how you reacted to them. It's about being clear. And it's about forgiving yourself for being human instead of being perfect.

Sounds as if that's what you'd like right now, and only you can provide it.

Thanks for writing.

EMAIL LINK

2009-10-19T11:39:00.000-07:00

Hello, there, all you people with problems, questions, things to talk through...

I'm trying to figure out how to put an email link on this blog. Until then, leave me your questions, sticky situations, or rants in the comments section below the most recent blog post.

Thanks for visiting, and I'm looking forward to hearing from you.

Little White Lies and Our Kids

2009-10-18T13:27:00.000-07:00

I agree with telling the truth...most of the time. But I often struggle with the concept of a "white lie." When is it okay, Mrs. Ditter, for kids not to tell the truth if saving someone's feelings would count for more? --Carrie

Thanks for the great question, Carrie. Let's do a little poll: Anyone out there never told a Little White Lie? Show of hands, please. Right. No hands up.

So in practice, this seems deceptively simple and even obvious: You tell a lie if the truth would hurt someone's feelings.

But if you look more deeply, it's not that simple. Lying, even LWLs, can lead to hurt feelings and broken trust. And while you (or your kids) may save the other person's feelings in the short run, the end result can be ugly.

I'm remembering one day many years ago when an LWL backfired on me. My best friend and then- roommate asked me for a reality check on her outfit before she left for work. "Yeah, yeah, you look fine," I said, even though she...well, she had much better choices in her closet.

That night, she stomped through the door and hollered, "What the **** were you thinking, letting me go out like this? I look like an idiot! I've looked like an idiot all day! Look at me!"

"You do not," I said. And then I caved. "Umm. Well. Maybe you..."

"Maybe I should burn this piece!" she shouted, stomping into her bedroom.

You know the end of this story. A few weeks later, I put on an outstandingly heinous and out-of-fashion blouse (because everything else I owned was dirty), checked in with my roommate ("Yeah, yeah, you look fine. I like the ruffles!"), and went to work. The instant I walked in the office, I knew she had set me up. Reactions from my coworkers ranged from raised eyebrows to startled glances, with eyes quickly averted.

Did I end up at Nordstrom on my lunch break? Yes, I did. Since this was before cell phones, I was not able to call my best friend from the dressing room and hiss, "Okay, okay, you were right. I should have told you to burn that dress. I'm sorry." Instead, I yelled at her after work. She admitted it was payback. 25 years later, we're still best friends, and we're brutally honest when we shop together.

I don't believe that brutal honesty is called for in most circumstances, however. And discerning those circumstances is a challenge for most adults, much less kids. Most of us have experienced the hurt that comes with someone aiming their honesty at us in a selfish manner. And I'll bet most of us have said true, if hurtful, things to other people (guilty on that charge, right here).

But none of this addresses your question, Carrie, about kids telling LWLs. One recent study done at McGill University in Montreal by Professor Victoria Talwar designates LWLs as a positive developmental milestone, indicating the development of empathy and the ability to connect with other kids (see her website at http://www.talwarresearch.com/whatsnew.html for more information).

So, lying is good? Lying is pro-social behavior? According to the kids available for survey at Mrs. Ditter's house, the answer is absolutely, unanimously, enthusiastically YES. "Because sometimes the truth would just hurt somebody's feelings," says one. "But if you think they'll find out you lied, then no, don't do it, because it would just hurt their feelings even more," says the other. Ruffled blouse, anyone?

In the end, Carrie, I have to toss this one back to you. Follow your heart. Talk with your children about what they're saying, and why. If they can tell the truth instead of a lie, that seems to me to be the better choice. But we all parent differently. And as parents, we have to model for our kids the way we want them to be in the world. If they see you telling kindly, well-intentioned LWLs, that's likely what they'll do. And that's not bad, as long as you can help them understand when it's appropriate to do so, and when the truth--gentle but honest--is called for, instead.

Mrs. Ditter Dispenses Common Sense Advice

2009-10-14T14:21:00.000-07:00

Why should you bring your problems to me? Because, as you can tell from the spartan format of this blog, I am a totally no-nonsense, down to earth person. My advice springs from the wisdom gained by a life enthusiastically lived: I come from a large family and am currently raising several children and animals. I'm insatiably curious about other people and love listening to their stories. I have been dragged backwards through the hellstorm of life on more than one occasion and still believe that we're here on Earth to have fun, seek truth, laugh our heads off, and be nice to each other as best we can.

Bring on your questions. I look forward to hearing from you.