Announcement

I now have a monthly newsletter! It contains updates, announcements and most importantly - DISCOUNTS! The first newsletter just went out to my family and friends.

If you would like to subscribe to my newsletter - I promise it will NOT come out more than once a month, and your email will NOT be shared with any third parties - enter your email in the "Subscribe to Shining Stones Newsletter" button on the right hand side of the screen. Or, email me directly at ellieandsteve@verizon.net .

To wet your appetite ... the first newsletter contains a HUGE discount for newsletter subscribers only!

Thanks!

Twice Monthly Giveaway - New Item!!!

Congratulations to Christine M., who won the Wishing on a Star Necklace! Thanks to everyone who entered!

This week's item is the Square Swarovski Ring (clever title, huh?) - made from a sterling silver beadframe and sparkling square swarovski crystal, wrapped with sterling silver wire. It is available in Mocha, Amethyst and Caribbean Blue (click on the top picture to view this ring in my Etsy store) :

To enter the giveaway, please send me a message through the Contact Me form on the right of the screen, indicating you would like to enter the giveaway, and which color you would prefer.

The winner will be chosen at random on October 15th - my daughter draws a name from a hat.

Thanks!

Our Birthday

Happy 7th Birthday, Love. On a warm sunny afternoon on the 29th of September, you were born. I will never forget the moment the nurse placed your warm little body on my chest. You were about 10 seconds old. You blinked your little eyes, and snuggled right into me. I was crying I was so happy to finally meet you. On that day the most wonderful girl I could ever imagine came into my life, and I became a Mom.

I love you with all my heart, and I always will.

Balancing on the Beam

There is an expression in recovery - when you're doing well, putting your recovery first, taking care of yourself, talking to people, going to meetings. It is called being "on the beam". I didn't understand this expression when I first got sober - it took a year for things to feel truly normal. Now that I've been sober for a while, I have a better appreciation for what this means.

Things are going well - they are going really well, in fact. My kids are thriving and busy, my business is growing. Everything is chugging along nicely in the crazy days of back-to-school and adjusting to new schedules. Every day is filled with kids' activities: soccer practices, Daisy meetings, CCD, playdates, homework. We rush headlong through the days with barely a pause, but we're finding our rhythm and overall things are good.

There is an unanticipated side effect to all of this, though. I am fully absorbed in the kids' lives, and I haven't been going to many meetings. I haven't been connecting with other people in recovery. My mind says to me that I don't have time, that I don't need to, that I am FINE.

I've heard the cautionary tales. I know the stories. Recovery is a full-time job. People who have been in recovery a while will say that the time to be the most cautious, to enhance your commitment to your recovery, is when everything is going well. Because it is far too easy to trick yourself into believing that just because the outside is great, the inside will follow.

In my experience recovery is a slow progression into stability, spirituality and mental well-being. It is like the process of slipping into addiction, but in reverse. The changes are subtle, the progression barely noticeable most of the time. One day (if you're lucky) you realize you have a problem, and you are so deep in the weeds you're not even sure how you got there. Recovery, for me, has been the same way. It is a day by day thing, taking care of myself, listening to advice, going to meetings and building my spirituality. One day, a few months sober, I was driving along in my car - just your average Tuesday - and it hit me: I feel good.

So here I am - everything external in my life is great. I'm busy, and my life is so full that I'm not taking care of my recovery. The internal changes sneak up on me. It is subtle, so quiet that I don't notice right away. It begins with my self-esteem. I start feeling unworthy; I start questioning myself. Little by little I lose interest in the things that are so sustaining for me - I don't make time for creativity. I start thinking why bother? I look at my jewelry and it all seems so silly, so pointless. Then the resentments kick in: I feel like I'm whipsawed by everyone else's schedules, I feel like there isn't time for me. I don't make time for meetings in the evenings. I think: the kids need me, there is homework to do, my husband can't be home early. My patience disappears - the smallest task seems monumental. The days start feeling like a scene from the movie Groundhog Day - the same crap over and over and over. I lose my gratitude. And then one day - just your average Tuesday - it hits me: I feel bad.

It took a good friend in recovery saying to me that I seem inflamed, irritable, angry, to get me to notice that my internal clock was way off. I felt like I was fine - smiling, keeping it all together. She called me on it - asked me why I hadn't been going to meetings, why I had withdrawn. Until she spoke up, I hadn't seen it myself. That is how the disease works - when things are going well, it tells you you're okay, you're normal. It lures you away. But, like any other chronic condition I need medicine to keep me well. For me, that medicine is talking to other alcoholics in recovery, going to meetings, and making time for spiritual growth. Without it, I start to get sick.

So I went to a meeting. I told on myself. I put myself back in the fold, the comfort and safety of other alcoholics in recovery who understand. I felt better immediately.

I am someone who likes proof, evidence. I guess the silver lining to it all is that I got my proof: prioritizing my recovery works. I need to take care of myself, make time for the things that sustain me. I feel like putting my family first is the right thing to do. I have to remember that it isn't selfish of me to take my medicine, to make time for my recovery. It is the most important thing. Because when the mothership goes down, it all goes down.

My daughter keeps a letter I wrote her from treatment up on her bulletin board. I wrote it to her in my darkest hour of despair - I didn't know if I'd ever feel better again. She couldn't read, so I wrote one sentence at the top - I said: I love you, I miss you, and I can't wait to see you again. Underneath I drew her a picture. It was a rainbow, and under the rainbow was the four of us holding hands and smiling, all together again. I went to look at that letter yesterday, to remind myself of all I have to be grateful for. I hadn't notice it before, but she had written a message underneath the picture. She had to have done this fairly recently, because she has only been able to write on her own for a few months. She wrote: "I love you Mom."

The craziness of our everyday life isn't a scene from Groundhog Day, it is a gift, and I am truly blessed.

A Meeting of the Minds

We have a full day today, and I have a lot on my mind. We kick off today with a visit to the vet; our cat, Coalie, is getting neutered and we have to drop him off by 9am. I put Greta on the bus, and Finn and I hop in the car with the pissed-off kitty and head to the vet. I want to use the time in the car to think through the day and figure out how I'm going to get it all done.

I'll leave the vet by 9am, head home and make those two calls I need to make, put the laundry...

"Momma?" Finn's little voice pipes up from the back seat.

"Yes?" I'll put the laundry away, and then head to the bead store..

"Where do we keep our parachutes?"

"Ummm, we don't have any parachutes." .... I'll head to the bead store and then the supermar-

"Why don't we have any parachutes?"

... supermarket and pick up the goodies for the playgroup tomorrow... "We don't need them, honey."

"We need to get parachutes. What about da other kind of parachute?"

I'll get home around 11am and will pick up the house to get ready for the cl -

"MOMMA! Why don't we have da other kind of parachute?"

"The other kind? I don't know what you mean." ... get ready for the cleaners at noon. Then I'll make some ord-

"DA OTHER KIND! Da closed kind? The red kind?"

"I'm sorry, hon. I don't know what you mean."

"We gotta get some parachutes, can we do dat today?"

"We have a busy day today, and we don't need parachutes." -- make some orders and my customer is coming by at 1pm. Once she leaves I'll -

"Momma? I good at everything."

"Mmm Hmmm," I reply distractedly. "You are." ... once she leaves I'll address the rest of the invites -

"But I specially good at letters. Specially "O". Dey are easy for me."

..address the rest of the invites and get to the post office by -

"Did you hear me Momma? I good at Os!" ..post office by 2:30pm and get back to get Greta off -

"Momma? I look like a ... what are dose things called? Dose Christmas things?"

... get Greta off the bus and make those..

"MOMMA! What are dose Christmas things called? Not Santa, da other things?"

"Reindeer?" .... and make those appointments for the kids' check-ups and dentist -

"NO! Da little people? Who help Santa?"

"Elves?" ... dentist. Then I'll help Greta with her homework, and get to the librar-

"YES! Elves. I look like an Elf. I like elves. I have a friend at school who is an elf."

...library to return those overdue books. Greta has socc-

"Momma? Look at dat house. Its freaking me out. Is it freaking you out?"

...soccer practice at 6pm, and then I'll meet up with -

"MOMMA! Is dat house freaking you out too?"

"Ummm, yes. That house is freaking me out." ... meet up with my friends at 6:45pm to go to the meeting - I have to call Ste-

"Momma? What are the words to dat song? Da one from school?"

... have to call Steve to remind him to be home ...."what song?"

"Dis land is your land, dis land is my land, from California to da... to da...."

....home by 6:30, no wait, he needs to come to the soccer field.... "New York Islands?"

"New York islands, from da wed wood fowest to.... to.... what are da words?"

....needs to come to the soccer field instead..... "to the gulf stream waters?"

"DA GULF STWEAM WAA - AAA -TERS - sing it wif me Momma!!"

"This land was made for you and meeeee!" we sing together.

Now, where was I?

Popylar

"Mom, were you nice or popylar (her word for popular) when you were my age?" Greta asks.

This topic has always made me uneasy. I don't want to lose street cred with her and tell her that she's being silly, or that pressure to fit in or have friends doesn't exist. But I don't want to fill her head with my not-so-objective thoughts about this, either.

"Well, you can be nice and popular at the same time, honey. In fact, many people are popular because they are nice." I have no idea what I'm doing.

"No," she says definitively. "Popylar people are mean."

This all started in Pre-K, actually. There was a kid in her class that was picked on a lot. Greta came home one day and told me that she had been served an ultimatum by a couple of girls in her class: Stop being nice to X or we won't be your friend. I asked her how that made her feel.

"It makes me feel sad," she said. "X is always nice to me, so why shouldn't I be nice back?"

It is hard not to jump in with both feet and tell her what I think she should do. Unless she is the instigator or is being bullied, I want her to figure out her own way.

Last year a friend came up to her at recess and said, out of the blue, "I just want you to know we're not friends anymore."

Greta got off the bus that day with a long face, and burst into tears the minute she got inside. She was hurt and confused; she wanted to know what she had done to make this person not want to be her friend.

I let her cry for a bit, and then asked her if she wanted my advice on what to do. She nodded.

"When people hurt your feelings and you don't know why, it is hard," I said, "because it is tempting to hurt them right back."

'Yeah," she said. "This morning I was going to tell her I didn't want to be her friend anyway, but that isn't true."

"If someone hurts your feelings, I think the best thing to do is tell them. You can't make them nicer, or change their mind, but you can let them know how you feel. You can say 'that hurts my feelings' the next time this happens."

"Okay," she sniffed.

"And you know what? If you leave her alone for a while, I bet she'll forget she said she doesn't want to be friends. Either way, just keep away from her for awhile, so she doesn't have a chance to hurt your feelings again."

The next afternoon, she got off the bus in good spirits. "Guess what?" she said. "That girl said it again today - that she doesn't want to be my friend. I told her that hurt my feelings, and she said she didn't care."

"I'm sorry she wasn't nice," I say. "But you seem like you're okay?"


"Yeah," she says. "I just played with other people instead."

A few days later I asked her what had happened with that girl. She giggled and said, "Oh, it was funny. Yesterday she came up to me in the lunch line and started talking to me. I think she forgot she didn't want to be my friend. And I wasn't about to remind her."

It makes my heart break a little, this growing up too soon. I am tempted to offer platitudes: I'm sure all the kids like you, or don't worry about it, it all works out in the end. Because sometimes it doesn't, and this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Greta is finding her own kind of individuality. So far, she doesn't pretend to like something just to fit in, she wears what she likes and not because other kids think it is cool. School shopping this year, she picked out her own clothes, and she has a kooky sense of style. I found myself trying to steer her towards the brand names, the safe bets. "How about this shirt instead?" I asked, pointing to a simple striped Land's End shirt.

She wrinkled her nose, and held up the bright purple tee shirt with little sea horses all over it. "But nobody else will have this one, Mom. I like this one better."

Atta girl.

Veggie Tales

"Fish have eyes," Greta says. She is contemplating her dinner - salmon, rice and a few token carrot sticks. "I told you - nothing with eyes."

Greta has decided to become a vegetarian. She and her friend Abi came up with the idea on a play date last week. The two of them have a history of concocting new ideas together. In July, they became hippies. They said hippies don't take baths or change their clothes, an idea that apparently held a lot of appeal for them during the dirtiest days of the summer.

I don't know the exact origin of the vegetarian thing. But, like the hippy thing, she is steadfast in her commitment to becoming a vegetarian, at least for now.

Through trial and error, I have learned that telling her she can't do something is a sure-fire way to enhance her commitment. So when she announced last week that she was going to be a vegetarian, I rolled with it.

"So you're not going to eat any meat?" I asked.

"No," she said. "Nothing with eyes."

"No chicken nuggets? No hamburgers? No turkey?" I inquired, naming a few of her favorite foods.

"Nope." She was resolute.

"Not even pepperoni?" She adores pepperoni above all else.

She contemplated. "Can I be a vegetarian that only eats pepperoni?"

"You can be any kind of vegetarian you want," I reply, hoping to create a few loopholes in the scenario. This kid, who hates all vegetables except for carrot sticks and broccoli made by Miss Liz, and only Miss Liz, isn't going to eat meat?

"Nope, no pepperoni either," she finally decides.

This is one of those parenting moments - in theory I'm in charge, so if I tell her she has to eat meat, she has to eat meat. But I also want to support her individuality, her right to explore her beliefs, and to figure things out on her own. So I decide to put a few parameters in place.

"Well," I say, "if you're going to be vegetarian, we need to talk to your doctor about it."

Her eyes get wide. "Why? Will I be in trouble?"

"No, but you are a growing girl, and growing girls need protein. Vegetables are good for you, but you need protein to build strong muscles and bones. Your doctor can help you figure out what other foods you can eat that will give you protein." I'm feeling kind of smug, thinking this will be enough to change her mind.

"Okay," she says without hesitation. "And lets get online and look up what other vegetarians eat for protein!"

Hmmm. Good move, kid.

So we look it up. She hates peanut butter, so scratch that. She took one look at the picture of tofu and stuck out her tongue. I'm back to feeling smug, certain she won't be able to stick with it.

"Well," she sighs. "We're going to have to get clever about this."

Indeed.

So we're on day eight. It turns out she really likes veggie burgers and tofu nuggets. She has experimented with salad, and found some versions she likes. Lots of cheese, yogurt, milk and fruit.

I upped my game and cooked her favorite meal the other night: a sausage stir-fry with feta, black olives and red peppers. She loves sausage, but she didn't break. "Just serve me the olives, peppers, cheese and pasta, Mom." she said.

"I want to be a vegenarian too" says Finn.

Seriously, I'm in charge, right?