21 days to change a habit

For my birthday this year my dear friend sent me a little book of habit record sheets.  Working on the popular principle that it takes 21 days to change a habit, the tear-out pages of habit record sheets provide a pre-printed (take the excuses out of it) format to record a list of 13 (don't ask me why its 13) "good habits" and then a tick-off space for each day of the week... with a space for a reward at the end of the week.
Earlier this year, a few procrastination months after my birthday, I gave it a go.  And lo... I actually found that, in some ways and in some areas, it worked.  I opted to blu-tac the sheets to my bathroom mirror, I made a list of 13 new habits I wanted to introduce to my life, and each day I checked off the ones I had done in the day.  It worked for a few different reasons.  Firstly I included things on the list that I knew were relatively quick and easy to achieve eg make my bed each day.  This meant that there was almost always at least a couple of things that I could tick, saving me from the demoralisation of complete failure.  Secondly, putting it on my bathroom mirror worked a treat because I looked at it for motivation every morning, and for reckoning every night - it was unavoidable.  The rewards section I found didn't really work so well for me - sadly, I am really quite undisciplined when it comes to rewards - and either I don't want the reward enough to work for it, or if I really do want it - I give it to myself anyway.... What did work however - was the reward of the tick itself... I found myself craving the ticks, wanting the ticks, working for the ticks... rather than currency to gain an external treat - they became reinforcement in and of themselves.  And some habits changed for good - months after the paper faded, some of my new behaviours remain changed...
And then... technology stepped in.
I got my iphone.  I love my iphone... it has enhanced my life in many ways... I can stay on top of work emails from my couch, I can keep up with my friends on facebook while feeding the baby, I can search for recipes while in the supermarket... I love my iphone.  My iphone did however undermine my 21 days routine.  I found an App you see... that did the job of my bits of paper on the bathroom mirror... and did it with a month in review function, with colours and lights... buuuuut....
no longer was my list of habits in front of me morning and evening... I had to go and open the App... and so... slowly, inexorably... it faded from my life.
So - today I resurrect one of the "simple is best" things in my life... and bring back the habits score sheets.  I now need to put them a lot higher up on my mirror or the child will eat them while cleaning her teeth... but I am excited about bringing back this old friend.

she's on the move!

So my angel is up and walking... definitely, incontrovertibly, inarguably, undeniably a baby no more... its so terribly butterscotch caramel hot chocolate sweet!  After months of taking the odd unstable steps I think I had been lulled into a false sense of security that nothing would ever change and that I would still be calling out "good walking baby, you can do it!" at her high school graduation ceremony.  But no, in that inexorable way of babies, she has grown up.  Yesterday I arrived to pick her up from "school" and she saw me from the other end of the balcony and she was off... thankfully towards me (as opposed to today when I had to contend with the demoralising tantrums of her wanting to go and keep playing instead of coming home with me...)  She is no graceful ballerina yet, I will admit, she sort of rolls, lolls, from side to side like a boat in swell... "tottling" seems a very apt description I think.  She tottles... but now instead of needing to be semi-forced into it, she is loving it, and is off and on the go.  I know, I know... I already wonder why I was in a hurry to see her walk... I must admit that when I was trying to get dressed today and she managed to open the cupboard, take a out a wine glass and smash it dramatically upon the ground at her feet I did think wistfully of the slug-like floor bound days when I could put her down and know I could come back later and she would still, like yesterday's dirty socks, be exactly where she was left.
Every moment is so precious, every day brings such change, and each moment, once passed, can never be experienced again.  I am drinking them in as deeply as I can... these precious grains of gorgeousness, slipping constantly through my fingers.... but sparkling all the way.

Its Time Out Time

So my little angel is growing up, so fast that my head spins thinking about it... and I have always sworn to be a responsible parent, a parent who cares about the long term well-being of her child... a parent who knows that sometimes short term toughness is necessary for longer term happiness... a parent who considers the needs of others and knows that a well behaved socially adept child is more likely to be successful and popular.  I therefore am a big fan of consistent boundaries.  Thus far I have not been overly firm with the little angel, I figured that a lot of the time she really was too little to understand that she was doing wrong, or how to behave appropriately in particular circumstances...
Now however, I observe her little mind ticking over, I see her little eyes calculating different people's reactions, I see her testing behaviours as she thinks "what will mummy do if I do this?" and I know that it is time.  The time has come for consequences.  Waahaahaaa.... :-)  We started with some little behavioural learning tasks to see how she went, and yes, she has proven that she can learn with praise and reward.  She now knows that she needs to pack away her bath toys before she gets wrapped up tight in mummy's warm towelled arms... She now knows how to pick up the tupperware and put it back in the drawer and close the drawer when asked... She knows that if mummy leaves the pantry door open then she should shut the door, not pull all the jars out. 
All this is wonderful and we are making great progress with adding new appropriate behaviours.  We are not doing so well, however, on eliminating the undesirable ones.  In particular, the one that really urks me is the gleeful and determined shot-put throwing of mummy's carefully prepared delicious morsels of sustenance onto the floor.... day after day, night after night... rejected treats thump ingloriously onto the floor boards.  Every meal those quick little fingers fling her food forth...
So... It is time for (dum dum dum duuuuum)  THE THINKING CORNER!
So it has begun.  She gets one warning... which she laughs in the face of like an impassioned toreador... And then, with the next splat of fruit or crumple of cracker... its OFF TO THE THINKING CORNER!
I am not entirely sure that she gets it.  I fairly sure that she is not getting that the thinking corner is not supposed to be fun.  At the moment she finds it highly amusing...  mummy makes a funny face with her eyebrows all pulled down, and her voice goes all deeep and serious like Pa-Pa... and then wooosh she is flying through the air and plopped on her bott in the corner of the hallway.  Mummy then turns her back, arms crossed, and the angel commences chuckling.... she grins and giggles, and teases mummy by starting to crawl away then stopping... and waiting for mummy to sit her back on her bum... and this game goes on until mummy sternly says ok... takes her hand and walks her back to the offending food, demands that she picks it up and hands it to mummy... and then she goes back to eating.  Or refusing to eat...as is usually the case.  Yes its all a great fun game!   We even found a special thinking corner when we went out for lunch yesterday... Cafe's have thinking corners too!

I am persevering, choosing to remain focussed on the belief that sooner or later she will tire of the time out ritual, and then it will get less fun, and then it might actually start working!
(Disclaimer : Picture is NOT MY CHILD...its from Flickr, really!)

YPTD

So I went to a concert.. the opening of the new "go-between" bridge concert... The experience showed me that I am really really old...
First - OK its winter... I expect it to be cold... perhaps I am paranoid, perhaps I am simply now deeply entrenched in the "take a cardie" age group... so I rugged up, a couple of layers on top, stockings under my jeans, knee high boots, scarf and wool jacket.  The concert was out-doors - on the bridge over the water... and I knew a fair amount of walking there and back would be involved... it made sense to me!  Of course, I sweltered, stripped off layers that I ended up lugging around with me, and was surrounded by young things who clearly did not feel compelled to bring a cardie, let alone any pants.
Secondly - I was surrounded by young things... young things wearing bugger all... it was highly distracting!  and not in a good way... no, I was not perving, instead of listening to the music and soaking up the vibe, man, I was thinking about how cold they must be and why on earth anyone could come out in a summer frock to a winter night time open air concert, on a bridge.
Thirdly - it took me until the end of the night to realise that the band I was listening to featured some guy from the band "The Go-Betweens" ... and then another hour or so to realise that this was connected to it being on the "go-between" bridge... duh!
Fourthly... only the really old can be so very very uncool as to take the micky out of the young by mimicking their lingo so badly that no-one got it... Someone I was with commented on the number of young people jostling to get to the front of the audience, in front of all the people who had stood uncomfortably in one spot, forsaking food and toilets, for four hours to secure a view of the top-line act.... "YPTD" I answered... nodding knowingly... "Huh??" was the collective response...   "Young People These Days?"  I explained...  insert sound of crickets chirping... well, there would have been if the damn music wasn't so loud!

Comforting moments

So I am known to quip the line "parenting is merely a very poorly paid cleaning job"... as I de-clutter, de-toy, de-food scrap, de-mountain-of-laundry, de-puke my home AGAIN (several times a day...).  Today however I will qualify that statement... parenting is indeed a very poorly paid cleaning job, but this job comes with interspersed fleeting moments of extreme beauty... moments which take your breath away and make all the cleaning somehow worth it.  Its a package deal, and I accept whole-heartedly.
Every day my angel does new things... changes, grows up.  Its mind-blowing to watch her start to think like a real person... not simply an inanimate eating pooing puking machine (as she has seemed at times)... Today I awoke, as usual, to the screeching alarm clock of the child who somehow knows, despite the fact that it is pitch dark and freezing cold, that it is now exactly 5:30am.  I dragged my sorry butt out of my toasty warm doona, and stumbled blearily into her room.  I had been up to the same screech almost hourly through the night each time she distressed herself coughing her little head cold out.  If I said I was not feeling perky I am sure you would understand the degree of understatement - especially when I add that I have had the night coughing routine every night for the last oh, I don't know, four weeks or so?   Give or take a week...it all goes blurry after a while... But where was I?  Oh yes, escaping from the bleakness into a moment of radiant sunshine.  As I swayed sadly by the side of the cot, arms out-stretched to lift the angel from her cot-of-entrapment (as she describes it so vocally)... A moment... she sat back, looked around her bed, found her pink bunny comforter... picked it up and hugged it, patted the bunny on the head... cuddled it again and put it down...before smiling and stretching out to me to be picked up.   Suddenly the fatigue and the cold and the darkness were irrelevant.  How did she learn to comfort her comforter to say good bye?  Was she thanking bunny for supporting her through the night?  Was she reassuring bunny that she would be back and all would be ok?  Was she getting one last cuddle in before the day began?
I'll never know... but I do know that she thought about something, acted on it, believed it, felt good about it...
Moments of pure untainted beauty...

reconnecting

So recently I had a big falling out with a dear friend... in the way of the multi-decker sandwich of life, there were more than a few flavours in the mix... some new, some old, some borrowed, some sold (well perhaps not sold, but it did rhyme so nicely :-)
Along the way of the conflict path I passed through confusion, took a dog-leg turn at infuriated, dawdled through devastated, parked in resigned for a while, and finally took a deep breath and a running jump at resolution. 
This weekend my friend and I worked out our issues and took the first happy steps to rebuilding our friendship.  I am so glad, so glad to have my friend back, so glad that I did not walk away when it would have been easier to do that, so glad that she also wanted to work it out, so glad that we were both big brave girls in tackling the miscommunications head first, so glad that this journey has come around the jogging track and back to the starting line.
And a wonderful part of the outcome is that I have had a novel and quite delightful experience - I have experienced having someone consciously and overtly choose to be my friend.  So often I have found friendships to be something that you quietly drift into, through circumstances, and can drift out of, or not - but they are non-verbal states of being.  When we date there is generally some point at which someone says something along the lines of "hey - wanna like, you know, be like boy/girl friends or what?" or perhaps something more articulate and romantic if you are lucky.  But rarely do we, out loud, name our choice to be friends. So this weekend my friend told me clearly that she wanted to be my friend... and I told her, succinctly, that I chose to be her friend...
And the experience felt a little odd...but really really nice.

My friend

I have a friend.  I have a friend who inspires me.  She is not perfect.  She is not superwoman (much as she may like to think she is).  And life has not been kind to her along her path.  My friend has defied the odds by having some really really crap stuff happen in her life.  The kind of crap that you tell yourself just should not all happen to one person... its just not fair.  The reason my friend inspires me though, is because somehow she keeps on going.  Because she can tell me about the latest massive crisis in her life, one which once again threatens every part of her life, and in the next breath tell me about the fabulous tomato soup she made from her veggie garden.  My friend inspires me to try to be a better person, a stronger, more together person.  When I feel sorry for myself, when I feel a bit "why me-ish", I remember her and I pick myself up, slap myself gently about the ears and remind my petulant self that life could be harder, much harder.  Knowing my friend has given me an incredible appreciation for how incredibly fortunate I am every day of my life.  Knowing my friend has given me the opportunity to let go of thinking about how things could be better, more, stronger, different... and to appreciate things just as they are.  Knowing my friend has helped me let go of excuses for why my life is not different, and to focus on the awareness that I have chosen to make my life just as it is... it has not just happened to me, and nothing prevents me from making it different apart from my own choices.  My friend has faced the crap and chosen to make her life just as she wants it to be anyway.  My friend thinks she can, so she can.  My friend is on a constant drive to be better, do better, live better... even when the life's storms buffet her in their gales of misfortune.  My friend recycles, conserves water, makes her own food from scratch instead of buying processed products, grows her own fruit and veggies, runs a water-tight budget, has chickens, landscapes her property, works full time in a high powered job, studies, invests wisely, plans for the future, raises an adorable child single handedly, looks after her extended family, is always there for her friends, and excels at all she does.  All this while bravely facing the extremes of life's battles - battles which would fell we lesser folk in one blow.  My friend is slightly intimidatingly accomplished, yet human, humble and real.
I think back on my years as a counsellor and about the way that most of my clients brought in lives destroyed by much lesser obstacles than she has faced.  I think about people I know, and myself, and how we take our woes so seriously... yet my friend who faces such a multitude of them somehow keeps smiling, doesn't give in, lives in the moment and keeps on keeping on.
Thank you my friend - for being my friend, and for reminding me that the nature of our experiences are so much a product of perspective.  Thank you, my friend, for sharing your lion heart with me.

wecome to blog land, a strange and wonderful place

So recently I have been discovering the strange landscape of the blog world.  I had no concept of blogging as a phenomenon when I started writing this one.  I started so that I could share travel photos with friends in a creative format.  I then kept going because I discovered that I enjoyed the process of sharing my personal life journey for several different reasons.  Firstly because I hoped that if I shared it, and others found it somehow useful or inspiring or thought provoking, then it would give a layer of meaning to my meanderings through the valleys and peaks of this strange journey of life I find myself upon.  Secondly it helped me to process and understand my own thoughts and feelings better because, unlike a personal journal, when blogging I had to consider not just my own thoughts but how others may react or see them.  In stepping back a little and restructuring my thinking into blog format I was able to step back emotionally and experience a change in perspective on the issue.  Thirdly it allows me a creative outlet in times when my daily hours are somewhat occupied by the demands and chores of life. In this way blogging is "my time" in a very public way.  Fourthly I blog so that the people I know who read it can know a little of where I am up to without me needing to have long and involved phone conversations with each of them individually.  Its a strange new cyber world, but reading each others blogs is sometimes our most personal interaction over the week. 
Since the birth of my child I have straddled the divide between blogging as a forum for sharing of thoughts and ideas, and blog-boasting about how cute my kid is.  This is a fifth reason for blogging - it is a collection of images of the important times in my life that are held together for safe-keeping (as safe as cyber world is). 
Recently I have become more interested and connected to reading other "professional" blogs.  I was somewhat surprised and interested to realise that there is a whole culture of bloggers out there... there is blog-language, common and successful blog-formats, and a competition to secure followers/subscribers.  And the blogs are highly professional, representing huge hours of work and a significant commitment to creating a popular product.  They are fun and funny, and there are even awards for all different types - including the MADS - the Mums and Dads blogging awards for people who write with great wit and humanity about the trials and tribulations of the parenting experience. 
I am not in that league in the slightest.  My blog is lacking in theme, patchy, messy and too personal.  I swing between personal sharing in journal style, to holiday snaps, to kid snaps, to philosophising, to requoting things of interest that I find on-line...
But its mine, and so it is like me... contradictory, colourful, genuine, messy, distracted, sometimes funny (oh yes I am!) sometimes sad, thoughtful, reactive, passionate, loving, unclear of what it wants to be in life but somehow plodding forward and working it out as it goes along.
Recently I have noticed some subscribers to my blog who I don't know... and I found this terribly thrilling!  Half of my friends in the real world don't bother to read my scribblings so I am honoured that anyone out there in blogger land would take the time.  To all those who read me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart - you make it all worth while.  I want to tell you that I will try to be more consistent, to stick to a theme, to become more professional and refined...but really - its likely to go the way of my recent weight loss pledge - and the less said about that the better at the moment!
Smiles to all

procrastination tips

So I logged in to the website of my university to submit a request for extension on my final assignment... the house of sickness is not a conducive work space at the moment, sadly...
And I discovered, in my fevered flipping through pages looking for the elusive link to the multi-page contact, conditions, documentation and rational paper that must be completed for said 1 week extension (it takes longer to do the application than it would to do the assignment) that the university newsletter features an article on how to overcome procrastination...
Ah!  This should be good for a read!  If nothing else its another great way to procrastinate actually doing any work!  Ah what gems of wisdom it contained...
Such pearls as
Consider “What would I say to a friend if they were in my shoes?”  - well thats easy... I'd say "Get the hell out of my new red knee high boots"... (I love them!) and take my boots out for coffee to console them...
And then there is the case scenario of talking yourself into study instead of going to bed...

You might like to challenge favourite excuses... For example,
“The truth is I’m tired"”.
“My old unhelpful conclusion is that I’m better off doing my assignment later”.
“I can dispute this. I am tired but if I delay this assignment it will worry me all night
and I probably won’t sleep well”.
My new helpful conclusion is that I’ll make a start tonight, just for ten minutes. I’ll
be relieved and probably sleep better.”

In my case I am at his point usually already asleep with my desk carving a lovely new tattoo style scar in my forehead and my drool sticking the O and I together on my keyboard... (I entirely blame my poor spelling on this!).
Sod it - I am going to bed.
Night!

Procrastination

Prooooooocraaaaaaaaastination!

I have a uni assignment due next week... its a biggie...
I have been working hard, on refining my procrastination skills.... I have cleaned out my angel's drawers and packed away the next round of too smalls... I have baked a tray of berry mini-cheesecakes to take to a dinner party that I am not required to take anything to and at the house of people I don't know.... I have washed every piece of clothing that even thought about being dirty, including the sheets off the spare bed and all the tea towels...I have read an entire novel for the first time since having a baby....I have watched four episodes of charmed on DVD...I have invited a friend for dinner and prepared homemade pesto from the basil in my garden instead of doing something quick and easy.... I have cleaned the stove, watered the garden, repacked the baby bag, arranged to go out for lunch with a friend, sent texts to everyone I know, helped my flower with her work, bought large amounts of groceries I don't need.... etc etc etc  And thats before I even make a start on listing all the wonderful abundance of mummyhood tasks that have now entered my procrastination repertoire...anything that is for the child can be justified before study!
I have, this time, stopped short of alphabetising my spices... but hey, now I have blogging!
(hmmm those spice jars are a little untidy...)
Grrrrr

stuff my kid ruined...

Today I spent a bleary but amusing half an hour perusing the blog "shit my kids ruined"... click to check it out...After the last couple of days its about all my brain can cope with - and it did make me feel better!

...And I realised that I have a perfect example in my sink...

My poor saucepans have taken a beating over years in my kitchen...but this one is one of the best.  Caused by Indi throwing up in bed while I was finally taking a moment to make some food for myself...

http://www.shitmykidsruined.com/

gratuitous cuteness #1987404

it makes the puke-fest sort of bearable...
my child is pretty smart... but not a genius... I am terribly adoring of her, but I am realistic enough to know that she is developing normally...good at some things, a bit challenged by others... she's not special but she is special to me... but there is one thing that I claim as an exulted talent.  She may not be saying full sentences, she may not be walking yet...but she pukes like a trooper... this child has the capacity to fill buckets - if she happened to have one conveniently positioned when she does her sudden exorcist impressions (which has never happened).  She is a fountain... an unusual garden feature though it may be, she could give the stone frog with a hose up his bum a definite run for his money.  The kid can chuck.  We all have our talents...I am hoping this one stays hidden soon!

Let them eat dirt!

Recently I had the opportunity to make good on one of my life long parenting philosophies... many have gone by the way-side in the foggy reality of surviving day to day as a working, studying solo-mum.... (not single, but solo parenting...) My resolution to give her no sugar until she was two lasted mere days from when she started on solids...actually... if I am honest, I think jam was the very first thing she tasted... booooo.  And my resolution to not let her watch TV? hmmmmmm lets not even talk about that one!  (TV? If you are listening... I love you! you have nothing to fear!) ... And the list goes on... May my McDonalds boycott last, if nothing else does!
But one of the things I have always said was that kids should eat dirt.  I am a firm believer in building the immune system - I survived the wilds of the third world with only a few life-threatening mishaps... and have a tummy of iron to show for it (perhaps that explains why it weighs so much on the scales!).  I don't believe in sanitising, disinfecting, protecting from natural germs... the unnatural man-made ones yes...but good old fashioned dirt should be on any healthy kid's menu I say...

And so it was with glee that I overcame my instinctive mummy caution bells, and sat and giggled at my baby as she explored the rich gooey gritty yumminess of our vegie garden... organic of course! (I did refuse the kind offer to share!)

gratuitous cuteness #1987403

play...

my angel has learned to play!  and I am loving the magical experience of watching a little person discover herself in her world... simplicity.... perfection.

the real me?

Today I read my dear thoughtful wise friend's blog.... and in it she wrote this :

Sometimes, it feels like the most selfish act in the world to be true to myself – to that invisible magnetic force that pulls me inexorably to the future I am supposed to have. In fact it is the most selfless act I have in my arsenal. I can’t be true to anyone else if I can’t be true to me.

Reading this was like a hug for my heart.  The first line epitomises one of my deepest struggles in life.  It impacts in my relationships time and time again.  Over and over I am reminded by others, by myself, by books, by counsellors...that my first and only true responsibility is to being real and being authentic.  Why then to I continue to feel so guilty about it?  "Sometimes it feels like the most selfish act in the world to be true to myself".... and being selfish is not being true to myself... so what do I do when I am caught between two versions of "truth of self" - the one which says that being firmly true to oneself without seeking to accommodate the needs of others is selfish - and the other which agrees with my friend that "I cannot be true to anyone else if I can't be true to me". 
The unfortunate lesson I have learned is that by trying to follow the first I usually end up tying myself in knots and hurting the very people I have worked so hard to honour.  In trying to walk the tightrope of honouring others needs and wishes and holding on to my own - I so often fall into the precipice of pleasing no-one.  This confuses me greatly. 
I wonder now as I write if I can unpack a little further and find a deeply held belief that somehow my authentic self is unacceptable to others.  Perhaps what feels like fear of selfishness is actually fear of being rejected for being selfish/real.  Perhaps its all about fear of being real because others will not like the real me.  Perhaps this is what needs to change.... so that when I am real and authentic - I can also be confident that the real me is someone that others will respect, like, and want to know more about. 

So I realise my journey is not so much about the struggle between being "good" and being "real" but more about believing that the real me is good.
It would be such a relief to let go of the struggle...

tardy blogger...

I am guilty of being a tardy blogger! Somehow my life has taken on epic proportions... the free moment that I used to spend blogging have evaporated into a hazy place of "where has that time gone?"  And I know the answer... of course there is the baby who is now toddling and getting more and more time consuming... of course there is work, which has been extra demanding but also proportionately rewarding in recent times... of course there is the study, which is hotting up for final assessments.... of course there is the social life, which is slowly getting itself back on track after a period of prickly ouchy bits... of course there is the vegie garden, the home, the chores, the daily duties of life that seem to multiply with each passing year (now I know why older people seem to do so many chores...its another of the scourges of aging!).... but mostly.... I am in love.  Love, that wonderful delicious sucker of time and thought....
So apologies readers... hang in there... I'll work on that balance thing!

Friendship

So some time ago I blogged about friendship...(here).... I wrote about the ever changing enigma that friendship is to me.  As an Aquarian it is typical that my friends are the centre of my world... and deeply important to me... and this is very much the case for me.  I struggle however... sometimes I feel overwhelmed with the joy of feeling surrounded by dear dear people that I cherish, flooded with the richness of friendship, feeling wrapped in its warm hug.  Other times I feel terribly alone.  I feel that for all the effort I make, the sense of connectedness that I so crave is elusive, transient, like sand - hard to keep a hold on.  I fear aloneness deeply... I fear the loss of friendship... I fear being abandoned, misunderstood, judged and cast aside by my friends.... So when people hurt me, put me out, demand of me in ways that I find difficult, I tend to push it aside, ignore it, move through it - the friendship is more important to me... However I find it so deeply distressing when others do not do the same.  When I find out that someone I consider a friend is upset, offended, put out by me...when they are closed to me, rejecting, push me away... this breaks my heart.  I will literally lie awake all night worrying... I feel like my guts are torn... I become deeply unsettled, confused, saddened... It seems that friendship is a double edged sword in my life - at once my life-blood, my breath, my joy de vivre...and at the same time the source of my darkest moments.  

Being friends means being there for each other at all times, whether it's good or bad. A friend needs to be very understanding and give each other the benefit of the doubt. Ideally the meaning of friendship is sharing unconditional love for each other. However this is not an ideal world; therefore some form of expectations are allowed, but that has a limit too. The purpose and meaning of friendship is to make life's burdens lighter for our friends and not make them heavier.