My wife and I are trying to build a house. We have a lot of know how and raw materials. I have lots of hammers and saws, my wife nails and screws and fasteners. We have everything we need. But the house I grew up in flooded in the basement when it rained and my wife’s was cold and dark every winter. We know what we want to build, but we don’t have any blueprints. Our couples therapist, along with our spiritual practice, allow us to become the architects of a home in which we can flourish. Ilene helps us use our tools and resources to build something substantial and sustainable, with solid supports. Otherwise my wife and I would be like some kind of Three Stooges act, with me clobbering myself in the hand with a hammer while she spins around trying to hoist too much lumber. We still gets splinters and we screw things up but Ilene helps us remember why we put on our hard hats and come into work every morning.
My baby got all these medieval ailments. So far she’s had croup AND hand, foot and mouth diseases -Trixie’s a real Renaissance woman! Obviously it’s hard on us when she’s sick because it requires a great deal of extra work. Our lives, which we've grown accustomed to being run by the tyrannical rule of a baby, are now subject to the dictatorial whims of millions of microscopic germs. Their rule is marked by torrents of tears and floods of diarrhea. If she's really sick or running a fever, to free ourselves from the rule of these despotic, scatological germs we have to seek the help of medical institutions. Doctors, nurses and insurance companie s allegedly exist for the sake of public welfare despite the fact that dealing with them usually makes me want to blow my brains out. When Trixie was diagnosed with croup, our pediatrician, who we really like, prescribed exactly three (3) doses of the steroid Trixie needed. Not one drop more, not one drop less. She ...
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