To Tell the Truth

The only way to pass the "parenting test" is with heaps of humility, honesty,and humor.  

That's what I said when I first started this blog. This past month though, I haven't followed that rule very well. In all kinds of big and small ways, good news and sad, I've screened my true thoughts. For example, I had some really great news this month but felt a little weird every time I would share it, especially if I was talking to another parent.. The news was that my son made it to the next round of an intense scholarship interviewing process - yay! He went through a  gamut of interactive games, leadership tests, improv exercises and impromptu essay writing with about 100 other high school seniors. After the group interview was all done, they cut half of the applicants. Instead of being cut, my son got the email that told him he was invited for a one-on-one interview. The hoped for prize when all is said and done, is a four year scholarship for college. It's nerve wracking and exciting and I'm so incredibly proud and shocked at the ways he's putting himself out there in the world and it's all just swirling in my own little head. How do we celebrate and brag without making someone else feel like crap?

And there's plenty enough of those feeling like crap moments.  Worrying about why our kids are anxious, prone to wild temper tantrums, chronically constipated, or emotionally distant, fills the secret places of our thoughts. One layer below our concerns for our kids is the darker place where we assume that we've messed them up somehow. We look at the latest Facebook updates, where only good news seems to be shared, and wonder if we would have any friends at all if they knew our true thoughts and colossal mistakes. There are layers of parenting silence. We start by talking about our perfect, precious babies instead of the crazy anatomical reorienting that our body is going through after childbirth. The silence continues and hovers over the changes in our relationships.  We stay silent when things are bad, keeping the self-doubt, shame, and feelings of failure under wraps. Telling the hard truth though, is the key to releasing all that crap. If you want to test this and have a real catharsis or just a good-pee-in-your-pants laugh, you can unload your truth at Scary Mommy, a blog that also serves as a confessional for the real deal stuff of our lives.

Bragging is just fine. So is crying and screaming and fretting and laughing. Humility, humor, honesty. We can't possibly know it all. We can't take ourselves too seriously. We only get support for the things that people know about. Go to the "scary mommy confessional" and let it out.

Love Bomb! - Part 2

On my oldest son's 16th birthday we presented him with a bundle of letters from friends and family. The letters had been written in the weeks after he was born and expressed the hopes and dreams and pure joy that his life set into motion.  Reading the Love Bombs! encouraged my son to present me with a similar gift on my birthday. My birthday present was a green sparkly box filled with little slips of paper. On each slip he had written some of the things that he thought were proof of my awesomeness.  He told me that it was a box of reminders for those days when I was doubting myself.  I'm not writing this to brag, in fact the opposite is true.  My birthday was in May and it took me three months later to open the box.  Trust me, it wasn't a lack of self doubt or negative self talk, that kept me from seeking out the affirmations.

As I read his notes I was struck by the disconnect. The thoughts I have about myself and the ones that he felt compelled to celebrate were at odds. This I think is a universal truth. Whether it's good or bad, our perception of ourselves is almost always different, in part at least, than what our friends, family, coworkers, and neighbors think of us.  Take some of the reactions I had to my love bomb slips:

You inspired both of your sons to start committed gym schedules. Why did I sleep in today and miss the gym?

You have the talent of being able to interact peacefully and productively with difficult people. Why can't I have better relationships with_____?

You is kind, you is smart, and you is important.  This makes me smile because I love the reference and then a little twinge because I know that I need this reminder every day.

People have religious experiences when eating your Christmas cookies. Ok, some perceptions are just basic facts that can't be debated.

You make a commitment to stay in close contact with your friends, whether it be a breakfast date or on the phone. When was the last time that I called...?

You started a blog which is cool. I can't believe how long it's been since I wrote anything.

You've got some mad ping pong skills. True, so true.

Yellow Sticky Love Note #4 (Photo credit: madlyinlovewithlife)

So why did I wait three months to open this amazing box of affirmations? Why did I actively avoid positive words of encouragement when I was feeling down? Once I opened the box, why couldn't I just read the notes and absorb the sentiments without any counter commentary? Why do we cling to the things that are still in progress, the flaws, the small imperfections? The fact that we are imperfect is not the big news. Imperfect people creating beauty, acting with kindness, supporting others, teaching, and working in spite of their deficits, that's what's amazing. Drop a couple of love bombs today.  Drop one on yourself too and then be quiet.

Ditching

I am sitting at work today and receiving hourly text messages about my son's unexcused absences. Oops, he missed first period. Darn it, 2nd and 3rd he's nowhere to be found either! Truth be told, I stopped checking my phone, knowing that he wasn't running late. He was ditching.

In an unexpected turn of events, I gave him permission to ditch. My husband gave a very formal and clear commentary about his reservations, but ultimately agreed. Yes, son, you have our blessing to ignore the rules and go to the beach instead. The reason I caved so easily is simple. It's the end of the year and evidently instruction of any kind is no longer necessary. Our son has spent the last week watching movies in his classes. He finished his finals and brings a healthy pile of books to read, not Shakespeare or a literary classic, but World War Z or a David Sedaris collection.

When I was a kid...(can you just picture the eye rolling) we worked up until the last day, finishing off every possible workbook page, catching up on art activities or creative writing assignments. We did spend more time outside in recess and gym but I never once remember watching a movie, let alone in multiple classes. We set aside a part of each day in that last week to clean our classrooms. Monday might be the washing of all the desks, Tuesday return textbooks to storage, Wednesday thoroughly wash the boards and sweep the floor, Thursday remove all papers and projects from the classroom and take them home, Friday hang out and relax and see our teacher as a pretty nice person overall, while daydreaming about swimming and street carnivals. 

The last week of school, for me, was fun. We got to be more creative, more physical, and more interactive than we'd been allowed the whole rest of the year. We were excited for summer and for being done, and we were relieved to learn our subjects without a grade attached.  

Instead, my son's teachers are cleaning their classrooms by themselves. Since no more grades will be given there seems to be no need for learning.  Practicing what they've already learned and integrating it into their life when the standardized tests are completed, appears pointless. Why bother taking up frivolous pursuits like relay races, jam sessions, or fun trivia games?  Is it really possible that on a certain day in June, everything there is to know about creative writing, jazz, physics, or Spanish was mastered so fully that there was just nothing left to do?  Have we trained our kids to only want to learn if a grade, an assessment from outside of themselves is given? Yikes!  

When my son said he wanted to ditch his last day and go to the beach instead, I said "yes". For one, how could I not reward such an honest kid with such a great argument? Secondly, I figured a cardio workout on his bike coupled with an "in the field" exploration of the natural environs of the Great Lakes was more productive and educational. 

Zombies, the Apocalypse, and Resurrection

The Walking Dead (season 2) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I'm embarrassed to say that I like the terrifying and grotesque zombie apocalypse tv show, The Walking Dead. My teenage sons began watching and with every gasp and groan of disgust I found myself drawn closer to the screen.  Decaying flesh and gunshots to the head in a seemingly endless stream of blood and gore are not my usual thing. What keeps me intrigued are the choices that the survivors make and by survivors, I mean the non-zombies. The obvious analysis for the show's popularity is, in my mind, that we are already living like zombies or fighting zombie tendencies on a daily basis.

In some ways I am a terrible, terrible cliche. Middle aged woman, wife, and mom walking on a treadmill of routine, numbing myself with food and (zombie) tv - longing for something but not really working that hard for anything.  I don't mean this as a debbie downer rant.  Whether it is work or parents or children, at a certain age most of us begin looking outward to what other people need of us, instead of inward to our own still unmet desires and interests.  So when someone started talking to me about The Walking Dead as  insanity, and asked, "Who would really be fighting so hard to live in that type of world?", my unexpected reply was, "We're doing it right now, all the time."

My most recent attempt to stave off zombie cooties occurred over the past month (one of my excuses for not writing here), as I applied to an alternative certification program for urban teachers in high need schools.  More than one person said, or thought, "I never knew you wanted to be a teacher?!"  Either did I really.  It emerged after a conversation where someone asked me if I had ever thought about a different career and if I did, what would I be?  I said teaching, in part, because the presentations and teaching moments I have in my current job, I enjoy quite a bit.  As a test I believe, the universe plopped an advertisement for the alternative program in my email the next day.  Instead of giving in to my routine (zombieness), I ran from the zombies that were chasing me and towards the application, and then the interview, and then towards the preparation for the basic certification tests.  It was the scariest thing I have done in about 16 years (birth of my first son) and it was exhilarating. Unfortunately, this week I found out that I did not pass one of the pesky math exams which means I can not be in the 2013 cohort and begin training. It is disappointing but I am grateful for the experience.  It's like the whole, "it's better to have loved and lost", type of thing.  For the past month I was not a zombie. For the past month I was more than just someone running away from zombies.  In fact, I was listening to my gut and trying new things.  I was running towards a goal. I was walking towards resurrection.

My Spring Break

A little over  a week ago I did a very unusual and wonderful thing.  I took a vacation, by myself, to a place with palm trees.  I've never gone on a real spring break where you dip your toes in the surf and reacquaint yourself with the sun, in the middle of a midwest winter. (Except, I realize, just last year.)  In practice, it felt  decadent and fabulous and left me with just a few moments of guilt pangs.  The guilt over leaving my children and spouse behind in relentlessly grey Chicago, was overcome by my complete rejuvenation.  Who knew that natural vitamin D could change your attitude so much!?                                                                                                                                

All of my little concerns and frustrations remain but now I have the memory of a brilliant sunset, palm trees and pink succulents to balance out my funk.  I learned that sometimes it is good to just runaway and get a new perspective.  I remembered that when I take care of myself, everybody in my life ends up reaping the benefits and there's no guilt in that! Spoiling myself a little, surrounding myself with dear friends and taking a break from my normal responsibilities was exactly what I needed for a "reboot" to occur in me.




Take some time today for yourself. Really. Figure out a way to put yourself first.  One of my awesome days included a drive to San Diego, a bowl of margueritas with girlfriends, a palm reading from a psychic and a gorgeous drive watching the sunset. Mixed in was uninterrupted talks, gorgeous scenery and dark chocolate. We are all worth it. Whoever helps take care of people deserves to be cared for in return.  Do it!

A Year In Review

I started this blog just under a year ago and took a walk down memory lane today, reviewing some of the thoughts and experiences that I decided to share here.  It's been strange to watch which posts become popular or resonate with "you" and which ones seem to fall flat.  The one that started it all, Little Men was a reflection on my son, on parenting, and a chance to feel wise about the hazy grind of raising toddlers.  The picture in this post will always be etched in my brain, my own Tom Sawyer painting the fence post image.

One that didn't actually get noticed much but that I found hilarious was Emergency , a humorous look at my younger son's trip to the ER and the constant struggles to discern when an emergency is actually an emergency and when I'm just being an irresponsible parent.

I dabbled for awhile with a writing prompt on other parents' questions/issues called "Asking the Village".  The one about when to leave our kids home alone was typical of my effort - a mix of what I had actually done and a recognition that there were lots of other approaches that could work too.  The title of the blog, This Will Be On the (Parenting) Test, was always meant as a poke.  None of us get to fully prepare or practice for parenting and yet we frequently assume that we are failing the tests that come every day.

Some of my posts became less and less about parenting and more about living in a very general sense.  A Season for Everything, Secure Your Airmask First, and Found Treasure were moments where I shared out loud some of my own emotional churnings, not specific to being a mom.

As I look back, I realize that some of my posts are time capsules for my sons. Minotaurs and Werebunnies, Dollar Store Wealth, or #!?&*%! Moments are pieces that I want to save for my kids to read when I am no longer a daily presence.  They are little snippets of my voice inserted in specific events of their childhood.  It isn't all cookie dough and kisses but a real life sample of my good and not so good days.

And some of my posts were leaps of faith where I shared some of my political or social perspectives.  These were always harder for me because I didn't want to alienate anyone. I wanted to create a space where the different approaches and perspectives could be honored.  ISAT Testing , Let's Talk Anyway , and If This Is Wrong, I Don't Want To Be Right were attempts at being both honest about my own opinions while still respectful of very different ones.

I'm not sure what 2013 will bring to my writing.  I've toyed with the idea of changing the title since my focus seems to be less focused on parenting, specifically. It's clear that I don't have the amount of time and commitment that's required to become a notable blogger. For that reason, I am grateful for the encouragement that does come.  I can't fully explain it, but just knowing that you are reading, pushes me to stay engaged and the writing definitely helps me to be more present. 

Wishing you abundance and the awareness to see when it is present!

-eltee

Yes, Levi there is a Santa Claus - and he's you

English: Santa Claus with a little girl Esperanto: Patro Kristnasko kaj malgranda knabino Suomi: Joulupukki ja pieni tyttö (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In the days leading up to Christmas I have found myself in 4 separate conversations about how to tell children about Santa Claus. One friend shared with a touch of shock that another friend continued to tell her 11yr old that Santa was real.  The woman insisted that her child told her everything and that if he had stopped believing, she would know. "We have a very good relationship.", was the closing remark.

At a neighborhood holiday party, a couple of new parents with a babe in arms struggled with whether or not to start the Santa story with their child. The question came immediately, "How do you stop the lie once you start?

And there it is. Creating a magical, childhood fantasy feels like a parental dream, until the day that the question comes. "Is Santa Claus real?" or "Which one is the real Santa?"  The dream really collapses when the child skips the question and moves straight to the assertion, "I know you're the one who gives the Santa presents." Do you counter?  Do you create an elaborate description about why they are wrong or do you enlist them in the conspiracy to protect the secret from their younger siblings?

These were the stories that I kept hearing this week.  The tales of the big reveal.  Grown adults still clearly remembering the night they saw their mom stuffing the stocking, sans beard and reindeer.  Some of the stories were more about the icky feelings that came from being privy to elaborate charades. Like the time when they heard their neighbors' plans to throw dog poop on the porch roof and chastise "Santa's reindeers" for the indiscretion.

In the same month that our children our hearing about kindergartners being slaughtered, it makes sense that we would want to create some type of figurehead for goodness, generosity, and selflessness.  What has never made sense to me is why we would create that figurehead as a stranger outside of our own homes, cities, and outside of our own selves.  We never wrote "Santa" on a gift tag.  When my 4 or 5 year old hit school and asked about Santa, I told the truth - as I understood it and as I wanted it to be for our family.  Santa was a real person. People call him different things depending on where they live but for us he's based on the man, St. Nicholas.  He gave gifts in secret, without any acknowledgement.  He was kind and wanted to make people feel special.  People liked what he did so much that even after he died they wanted to keep that special feeling alive.  Now, lots of people try to be like St. Nicholas.  They give gifts in secret, not using their real name, so that the attention is not on them and the person doesn't feel like they have to give a gift back.

I wasn't sure how my little speech was going to go over. The next year I got my answer on St. Nicholas day. I saw the traditional chocolate candy, orange and small gift(from my husband) and next to that, another piece of candy -not given by my husband but by "St. Nicholas".  That year good ol' St. Nick came in the form of a very small kindergartner. It felt special indeed, mysterious, and magical.  In the midst of all my concerns about how fragile my son's childhood would be, I had instead created a way for him to hang on to innocence, magic, and wonder.  It isn't outside of him or something that I need to wrap him in like a blanket of protection.  All of that goodness is inside him waiting to be offered up to the world. Yes, Levi, there is a Santa Claus - and he's you.

To Plan or Not to Plan

The only real, formal plan I had this summer was a one week reunion with my siblings.  Camping trips, a water park or two, barbecues, and house projects were just normal summer things that I assumed we would plug in before school started again.  We all know what happens when we assume. School starts in one week and none of our normal summer highlights have occurred.  I feel like an ass.

I have good excuses for how my summer derailed.  First off and most importantly, it felt cruel to go camping or to a water park when my youngest son would have to sit out with his broken leg.  Then, I had the super hot, killer temps that forced me into a fetal position, whining in front of the air conditioner, instead of painting, for big chunks of June and July. And of course there was the Olympics, that seemingly made it impossible to do anything except watch...and watch...and watch.

Missed weekend trips and lingering house projects are not the end of the world. I know this well. Some of the things that filled our summer could never have been known about even if we had sat around the dining room table intentionally plotting out a vacation adventure.  Since we had no plans (other than the fabulous week with my sibs) we were able to respond in the moment and travel to be with family when there was an unexpected death.  We spent other weekends helping my brother-in-law with a big out of state move.  Not planning -it's not a bad thing necessarily. 

Last weekend though, I had no plans except for a brief work commitment and an evening barbecue.  We got an invitation to join our friends at a lake house and I was so excited.  I'd have to move some things around but it could work.  Then a last minute update came through Facebook that my son's youth group was going to have an overnight lock-in.  I got frustrated, feeling the tug-of-war between my wants and my kids.  Just as I had my son agreeing that a lake house sounded better than staying up all night with other teenagers, I got a message from a friend who currently lives in England.  She was in town with her family and wanted to get together, you guessed it of course, during the lake house weekend. It's a great unexpected and rare opportunity to see a good friend AND it's backing out on my dearest friend who lives just miles away but who I see only occasionally. Yay! and Ugh! all in the same moment.

Do other people go through this?  Tell me it's not just me.  If I planned better would some type of firm clarity take hold?  Am I jerked around so much because I haven't pinned things down?  Or is my fluid planning allowing me to take advantage of  unexpected opportunities and the needs of people I love?  This weekend I know exactly what I'm doing and it's big.  We'll be hosting my brother-in-law as he helps us put a new roof on our garage, grilling most of our meals, and going school shopping for the boys.  Unless of course it rains...

Aunt Orpha - Honest Inspiration

I'm one of many family members, gathering for the memorial of my husband's Aunt Orpha.  She was a sister in an extremely large, Norwegian family, a mother to two daughters and four sons, an active church lady, a volunteer for multiple social service/justice organizations, and of course a dear friend.  It will be a good time to remember her and I'm looking forward to hearing more stories and testimonies - people speaking the truth in love about her life.

Speaking the truth in love, for me, means that she will be remembered as a full person.  A woman who was amazing and generous and committed to meeting the basic needs of others whenever she could.  A woman who was raised up in the rural Midwest and traveled the globe as an adult.  A woman who loved a bargain, finding a great set of dishes for a new refugee family at the neighborhood garage sale.  And truth in love,  a woman who would buy that set of dishes (cuz it's such a great bargain) ignoring the fact that her basement and garage held countless other sets of dishes already.  Cleaning out her home was a hard and sometimes frustrating activity.

It's important to remember the whole person so that we don't bestow protected sainthood upon our loved ones.  To see someone as wonderful AND flawed means that we can be wonderful AND flawed too.  Orpha wasn't a perfect anything.  None of us are.  I want to be like Aunt Orpha though, leaving this world and the people I meet with a little more kindness, love and compassion.  She did that with the same over the top results as her garage sale buying. May our own failings be overshadowed by our goodness.

Let's Talk Anyway

Here are two completely separate interactions that happened to me this week that have me churning.  The examples I'm going to give are two moments that took place in one day and smashed up in my mind but they are not unique or unusual. Let me know what you think.

First, a lovely get together with a friend who I haven't seen in a long time (except in Facebook land) and she asks me about writing this blog.  She admits that she saw the title and figured that as a single woman without children it wouldn't hold much interest or might even feel like a little pinch of salt on a sore spot.  I cringed, realizing that the very title of the blog had felt like an exclusionary clause to someone I like quite a lot.

Second, scanning some Facebook updates I see a relative remarking pretty harshly about the President and longing for his days in office to end soon.  I read the remarks and recoiled.  We like each other.  Just last month we were together face-to-face and sharing some important stories and experiences.

So, I'm thinking about how I listen to others. Do I speak honestly or defensively? Do I avoid people who I know will have a different point of view?  Are there ways that I could show myself to be more open to others?  Am I allowing myself opportunities to be challenged or taught by another?

Because here's the thing, I'll just be very blunt.  I can't afford to draw lines in the sand based on who's "with me".  If I decided to only talk with family members who were going to vote for Obama like me, I'd have maybe a handful of family left, including third cousins twice removed.  If I could only find wisdom from people who shared my spiritual beliefs, I might only have my own counsel to turn to - not a great option.

Here's the reality, we do like and love a ton of people who we don't completely understand. I had my four siblings with me a couple weeks ago and not one of us shares the same spiritual practices or lifestyle as one of the others.  We are incredibly different.  And yet we talk anyway.  We may get misunderstood and feel hurt sometimes but we aren't writing each other off and we're certainly not calling names or labeling each other as "them" or "those people".  In the big picture, I'm going to try and carry these thoughts with me, even into this crazy election season.  I'm a 46 year old, white, mom, who's voting for Obama.  Let's talk anyway.

Queer Eye for Sanity and a Dash of Hope

Queer Eye (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

How ironic it is that I am watching Queer Eye for the Straight Guy these days.  Thanks to the wonders of Netflix, I can watch the archived episodes of many cancelled cable shows that I never got to see in their prime.  If you never saw this "reality" makeover show it's basically five design gurus helping clueless heterosexual men become more stylish.  They makeover their wardrobe, home decor, grooming, culinary, and entertainment choices and leave the straight men in a cloud of fabulous fairy dust.  From the perch of their Manhattan loft, the Fab Five watch as cameras reveal how the men incorporate their new skills, appearance, wardrobe, and gorgeous home into their normal life with their friends and loved ones. 

As a child I was a tomboy and a mess most of the time.  In adulthood not much has changed.  There is one bottle of shampoo and one bottle of conditioner in our shower, family photographs is my only design theme, and though I enjoy baking, meals are pretty uninspired.  After every episode, I say out loud, "I want the Fab Five to come to our house!"  Mostly, I want them to come because they really do have an "eye".  Every single time they manage to take a dump of  house and transform it into a vision of awesomeness.  The guys that they makeover, almost always say,"I didn't know how to make this place (or myself) look good but if I did, it would have looked like this."  They are overwhelmed at how much their own preferences and lifestyle and personality are actually reflected in the space.  That's all I want.  Five, funny, creative guys with a seemingly unlimited spending account, to "get me" and show me what my style really is.  Is that too much to ask?

Evidently so.  In the real world, as I'm dreaming about chic, New York, style gods, my kitchen ceiling is spraying water all over the floor.  Over my morning coffee, I heard the clear sound of a shower.  Why would I hear the shower?  My husband never showers with the door open.  I get up and go to the kitchen.  Oh, of course, I hear a shower of water because I now mysteriously have one in my kitchen.  Too bad I don't have my soap and shampoo with me.  Eating breakfast while showering could shave so much time off my morning routine. What would the Fab Five from Queer Eye do in this situation?  Cry? Run screaming? No.  They would probably crack jokes about taking a group shower and then pop a bottle of champagne.

That is why I am completely hooked on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. In the midst of a very real life, watching someone's impossibly picture perfect transformation brings me some hope.  As I look up at the gaping hole in my ceiling I decide that one more episode is just what I need.

Liebster ???

About a week ago this little bumper sticker arrived as an alert in my email.  There was a comment from my blog from someone I've never met. Steph at The Healthy Mom had bumped into one of my posts and wanted to share a virtual "thumbs up" with me. The Liebster Award is given to new blogs with 200 or fewer followers (I was a safe bet with 19).  It's meant to bring attention to undiscovered blogs and encourage folks to check 'em out.  Perhaps another intention is to force new bloggers to explore others as well and enter the deeper end of the blogging community.
 I'm grateful that Steph at The Healthy Mom found me somehow and took the time to give me this public pat on the back.  I really do feel so ignorant about the blogging world.  I struggle to make time for the writing and have not read many other blogs, I'm a little embarrassed to admit.  Steph's recognition and the requirement to suggest 5 others gave me the nudge to go exploring.  It was a wonderful way to hear from a wildly diverse group of people who I will likely never meet but can probably learn from and/or have fun as a voyeur in their life. Being nominated for a Liebster comes with a few guidelines, of course, including the following:
1. You must thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog, with a link back to their blog.

2. You must include the blog award, along with its purpose and guidelines, on your own blog.
3. You must pass the Liebster Blog Award on to 5 blogs (with fewer than 200 followers) you think deserve some recognition, and let them know of your nomination via comment on their blog, twitter, Facebook post, etc.

My Liebster nominees are:

The Healthy Mom  Thanks again to Steph for giving the shout out. Mom is in the title of her blog but she writes about a much wider range of topics than parenting or health.  I think she is funny and smart and honest, all qualities that make for interesting conversation.


1Voice 4 Peace  Jennifer was the first person I ever knew to write a blog.  Her writing is always a little calmer and thoughtful than I'm feeling and I love how reading her stuff can slow me down enough to pay attention.


Random Reflectionz  Christie is my bestest cheerleader.  I'm not sure about the rules of these fellow blogger awards.  Can I give Christie one of these if she's already received one?  I will plead naivete or plain blogging ignorance if anyone cares.  She's writing about everything and whether it's her relationships or current events, she's always smart and clear in her writing.

A Little Lucidity  irreverent and funny, Lucy lays it all out there and takes nothing too seriously. This blog has a PG-13, sometimes R rating for language and content if that bothers you be warned.  I think she's funny as @#$!.

Stratford-Deford  This is a blog I found just by punching the "next blog" button at the top of the Blogger page.  Sally's photography drew me in immediately.  I would love to fill my home with the images that she captures.  City scapes or landscapes, it's all beauty.


So there you have it.  Thank you mysterious Liebster Award creator for helping create an avenue for encouragement and exposure and pushing me to check out other voices.  My favorite thing about writing this piece is that I really am not that well connected and have just begun to write let alone follow other blogs.  As I went in search of other blogs that spoke to me, I was hooked by a Mormon, some lawyer types, and a self-proclaimed potty mouth.  All of us are raising kids and navigating relationships.  Thanks to all of you for the support, humor, and perspective that your blogs offer me!

Getting and Staying Inspired

Today was one of those full on jumble of LIFE days.  I was at a conference which turned out to be very useful (always a bit of crap shoot). While there I ran into an acquaintance from a very turbulent time in my life, turbulence not from him but from shared connections that we had.  We talked quite a bit and when we parted I was grateful for the visit, even though it picked a little of the protective scab that I'd created for that time, right off.  During the day I was receiving multiple texts and voice mails from my children who were out of school and another set from family far away who were updating me on the shocking and difficult final hours of a very dear and special aunt.  Letting go of past hurts, approving unicycling trips for my son, hearing almost hourly details of the heart wrenching decision to remove artificial life support, and of course taking notes on how to "Develop A Communication Plan", all left me feeling pretty connected to life and what is important to me and also frazzled.

When I finally got home and checked my email, the day was refreshingly and beautifully capped with a note from a friend and fellow blogger which was quite unexpected.  Jennifer's blog, 1voice4peace was truly my first inkling that expressing myself honestly and being vulnerable, might be good for me to pursue.  She pushed me to look beyond the first impression or easy, popular opinion and look instead with a more quieted mind.  She inspired me to live out my personal values and convinced me that caring about peace and the earth and conscious living was what "all the cool kids were doing".  The note from her was a link to her blog where she announced that she was passing the "Inspiring Blog Award" on to me.

She described that as recipient of the award I would need to thank the one (her) who gave it to me, with a link back to her blog; list some things about myself that people wouldn’t know from reading my blog; and   nominate at least one other blog for the Inspiring Blog Award.

So, wow, huh.       

In true Jennifer fashion she managed to slow me down and redirect the course of my day.  Our days frequently get filled up with past hurts, minutiae, obligations, and other people's needs.  We can forget that finding sources of inspiration, cultivating them, and staying engaged with those people and things that inspire us, is our salvation.  I need to do a much better job of cultivating and finding sources of inspiration, especially in this blogging community.  The one person that I do follow religiously and who is a constant source of support is Christine at Random Reflectionz.  The interesting thing about reading her blog is that she rarely writes about anything that I would have thought about that day.  I've read about politics, philosophy, spirituality, and infertility but also about, Korea and chimps.(!?) I never know what her topic will be but she's always smart and thoughtful and connects me to other resources that she's reading.  She also literally inspires me to write more by her kind words of encouragement, sharing my blog with friends, and giving me that blue thumbs up on Facebook on a regular basis.  I've also learned a lot about blogging stuff from her, so thanks Christine!  The Inspiring Blog Award is officially placed upon your laptop with much gratitude.

In terms of things you wouldn't have known about me from reading my blog... I kinda put it all out there.  Favorite color is green.  I wear Birkenstocks almost exclusively since having foot surgery.  I eat Nutella with a spoon.  Feel inspired yet?

Turning Point - Give Me Twenty

I know that I tend to turn most of these reflections towards the positive or to search out some type of personal learning.  I don't do that because everything is happy all the time but more as a way to practice looking for the good.  I'm not able to manage it most of the time but in my writing, I can.  There was a time in my family when I found it very hard to be upbeat.  My youngest son seemed to be angry and combative all the time, he fought with his brother every waking moment, called him terrible names, and I thought that maybe some type of intervention was going to be necessary.

Where was all the anger coming from?  How could I tell if he was going through a phase or showing some early signs of serious struggles?   My best friend gave me a piece of very sage advice.  She pointed out to me that my son wasn't acting the same all the time.  When we visited with friends for example, he didn't fight with them or call their children names.  He did have the ability to control himself and censure his behavior at times.  It helped calm my mind but I still didn't have a solution.  Our biggest response had been natural consequences, usually a withdrawal of some type of privilege that was linked to the offensive activity.  If he trashed his brother's room then he would have to clean it or do his brother's chores for several days.  Mostly though, his consequence was taking away TV time or time with his friend.  A favorite message in those days was, "You don't get to be rewarded with hanging out with your friend if you treat your family like crap."

an exercise of chest (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is also the son who could spend hours in repetitive labor (sanding, heavy lifting, gardening).  There were moments when I felt like I couldn't listen to his negativity or anger one more second and yet if he had a job, that he deemed important, he could be focused and helpful.  Over time I realized that when he was most agitated and most deserving of a drop kick, was the exact time that I needed to give him a job. I met with several teachers back then, suggesting that as counter intuitive as it might seem from his actions, more responsibility in the classroom, not less, would help his classroom behavior.  As much as he liked to feel responsible, he also liked to feel strong.  As he was repetitively harassing  his brother, I would shout from the other room, "O.K., you've got too much energy for me right now.  Give me twenty!"  He would drop to the ground and do push ups.  To my surprise, he never fought me on my boot camp inspired demands.  As miserable as we all felt around him in those years, he felt just as bad.  He wanted a solution to his out of control behavior as much as we did.

In the midst of the worst of his negative, argumentative behavior, I asked him to join me as my workout buddy at the gym.  I had to lie to the YMCA about his age so that he could be permitted to use the equipment but it was worth it.  About 6 months after our gym routine had begun I looked at him and didn't see the anger.  "Do you feel different?   You don't seem as upset or on edge as you used to.  Have you noticed a change?"  I asked him.  He shrugged his shoulders and gave an understated, "Yea, maybe."

His intense attitude may have subsided all on its own just by getting older and allowing all the initial prepubescent stuff to settle down.  Maybe it was the physical exercise.  Maybe it was the two boys being separated and going to different schools.  Maybe it was just the realization that we weren't in a battle with our son as much as we were wrestling with his out of control feelings and behavior.  Maybe it was just a super lucky alignment of the stars and all of the things I just listed melding at the right moment.  So here is my reflection that I'm trying to remember for other things in my life:

1. When you are in the middle of a struggle it can be hard to see a solution.  Don't give up.
2. Being honest about the hard parts of our lives/parenting is so much easier than pretending that things    are "fine" and it's a lot less lonely.
3. When agitated, frustrated, antsy, or full out angry, push ups might help and definitely won't hurt.

Good luck with whatever your latest struggle is.  We all have them so you are in good company.

Mom memories

I'm four, sitting in my mom's lap, on our way home from Christmas Eve dinner and midnight mass with family.  It's cold outside and I'm very tired.  I lay against the faux fur collar of my mom's coat and fall asleep.

Playing outside on my bike with the training wheels.  I pull up to the side of our trailer home, riding on the sidewalk to our steps.  The bully of the complex pushes me off my bike and into the row of rose bushes lining our home.  I lay on my bed while my mom picks out all of the thorns from my back and legs. 

It's May and we're walking up to Johnson's U Pick farm.  We walk on to a dusty old school bus, buckets in hand and take the bumpiest ride through unpaved, gravel roads to our strawberry patch.  On hands and knees we find the little red treasures hiding in the straw covered rows.  Dreaming of the shortcake and jam that will come makes the boredom and sun bearable.

"God doesn't make junk."

In my bedroom, at 12 or 13, hearing the knock at the door.  She sits on the edge of the bed and says goodnight.  Asks about my day.  Five or ten minutes of time, with just her.  Saying next to nothing.  Waiting every night for that knock.

Shipped care packages -  boxes of my favorite store bought cookie, cashews, a five dollar bill, and a note from her during finals week.

Singing.  A snippet of a hymn, a chorus from a musical.  Every topic seems to have a piece of music that she recalls and inserts in the conversation. 

Little flashes of her.  Tiny bits.  Elusive memories.  A small collection of moments.  And yet the power!  The influence, the love, the confidence, the foundation that she set in place for me.  It's impossible to document how a person can speak to your soul, long after they're gone or how being seen so deeply and clearly can change you.  Trying to let the gratitude overtake the sadness.

Found Treasure

Obverse of United States one dollar bill, series 2003. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

"I had a great day!  I found two dollars and a penny today!"  My son was giving me the quick summary of his school day during our 1 minute phone conversation when he checks in and tells me he's home.

"Where did you find two dollars?", I asked.

"In my wallet." He cuts me off as he hears me start laughing a little, "Well, it was like I found it because it was in a hidden spot in my wallet and I forgot it was there."  I told my husband the story later in the day and I laughed all over again.  What a silly, goofball of a kid we have.  Where does he come up with this stuff?!

Indeed.  His words hit me today in a different way.  I've mentioned here that I've been in a funk.  It's been a low time for me and a frustrating time.  I want to feel different, more motivated, but never seem to find the secret key to unlock or unblock my malaise.  Today, I asked my son if he wanted to go to the gym with me.  As I became soaked in sweat on the spinning bike, cranking the music in my ears, and letting the endorphins kick in, I remembered my son's found treasure. 

Part of me was annoyed with myself for not going to the gym earlier.  I felt so good, why didn't I do this sooner?  What took me so long?  My son could have done the same too but he didn't.  He just reveled in the moment. We always have the choice to be present in the here and now or dwell on the missed opportunities or the broken pieces.  We can waste time looking at what others have that we don't.  We can look past our life in hopes of finding some future great thing.  I want to look for more of the hidden spots in my life.  As an insurance policy, in case I backslide, I'm also going to tuck two dollars in a secret spot in my wallet.

Caring Enough to Take Care

Bowl of Chocolate Ice Cream! (Photo credit: StephenMitchell)

My morning meditation book talked about self-care today.  Hah!  How timely seeing how I spent the entire weekend in a bath of self-loathing and personal disappointment.  An internal message loop ran, "Stop eating junk.  Go to the gym, you're a slug."  A string of other negative assessments ran rampant. I would listen to the voice inside for a little while and then go to the kitchen for a bowl of ice cream.

On  days like that, where I just can't seem to muster enough energy to tackle my "to do" list or prepare any food that requires more creativity than the flip of my wrist as I open a prepared package, I start to think seriously about our primal nature.  Am I more than just a clump of cells interacting with the lunar cycles? I don't know.

Stuart Smalley (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In those moments it feels like I have very little control over myself, my surroundings, or my larger world.  I lose sight of my personal power.  A ton of things can be going wrong, I can be in a general malaise, or worse case scenario, the zombie apocalypse could finally arrive and I will still have the power to care for myself.  It may not be all the things that I need at the moment but I can do some thing.  Getting out of my head counts as a "thing".  Talking to a friend or doing something that I enjoy counts as a "thing".  Eating a bowl of ice cream can be a "thing", as long as you don't beat yourself up about it afterwards.  We all know the bottom line is that we have to care enough to take care of ourselves.  We have to care less about what we "should" be doing/feeling/accomplishing and care more about ourselves.  I know this is probably sounding more and more like a Stuart Smalley seminar ("I'm good enough.  I'm smart enough.  And gosh darn it, people like me!").  Well gosh darn it, people do like me and yet I still need the reminder to take care and be nice to myself.  It's as important as all the other things on my "to do" list.

Support

The rules, culture, and technology of blogging is still a bit of a mystery to me.  I don't really have a sense of how many people are checking in and reading.  I do love learning from other people and seeing the ideas that emerge when you all share your own reactions.  I try not to get too caught up in the reaction or non-reaction to various posts and focus on my original reasons for writing.  I wanted to do something different.  I wanted to be more thoughtful and intentional and I wanted to start a dialogue about family/parenting issues.  Mostly, I wanted to talk honestly about stuff and maybe help push back against all the lists of  "should and ought to" that end making me feel like crap as a mom, wife, and person.

A friend of mine started a blog around the same time as me and she has been a great source of support and encouragement.  She shared her own thoughts on this very topic today and I'd like to encourage you to check it out, Random Reflectionz .

Thanks for reading and encouraging my effort.  Share, link, follow, I appreciate it (in a detached, self-confident, non-needy way).

Behind the Curtain

Sinus pain, itchy throat and eyes, plugged ears, pre-menstrual funk, and fatigue - not a good weekend.  I really didn't feel like writing today.  A small voice inside called out though, urging me to be real.  One of the reasons I started writing was to be more honest and uncover some of the parenting and general life stuff that we all gloss over as we greet each other with, "I'm fine.  How are you?"

funk-o-mart (Photo credit: Digital Sextant)

I'm not fine today.  I don't have to be.  No one is fine all the time.  If they are, then they are lying or on serious medication.  Every once in awhile we need to show each other what's behind the curtain.  We need to share what lies deeper, beyond the surface.  My struggle sometimes is that I feel giving voice to my funk will make it grow.  If I tell you  how much my foot hurts, will that make it feel any better... no.  I go between feeling disingenuous or feeling like a Debbie downer.  Here's what I'm coming to this week - the more real I am with people, the more my friends and family can call me out on my $%#&.  If I only talk to people when life is good and manageable then I don't really have a source for being held accountable or receiving genuine concern.  And in terms of others, if I'm not real, than I just perpetuate the fallacy that being a good person or striving for good parenting means you're always good.  We all know that's not true. 

I feel crappy.  So, how are you?

p.s. Zemanta is the program I use to find legit photos for the blog.  It picks up on key words in the blog and makes suggestions for appropriate images.  The words, "pre-menstrual funk" inspired the pic above.  Smile.