... in no particular order ...
1. When my husband makes the bed, he carefully lays the pillow shams over the pillows. I know they're called pillow shams, but seriously. Don't be a chump and take it so literally.
2. My bottle of ibuprofen has gone missing, so I just resorted to taking some tension headache pills. Acetaminophen and caffeine.
3. One of my earliest memories is that of padding around on the floor on hands and knees, under my crib, during the night - looking for my pacifier. After many years of clenching my teeth during my sleep, I now wear a night guard. And sometimes I lose it during the night, and find myself on hand and knees, in the dark, feeling around for the durn thing. It's almost ... too much.
4. Yesterday I called an 800 number, requesting clarification on a very ambiguous notice I received in the mail. I was, in turn, verbally beaten down by a man named James. James, who makes a far better living than I do, treating people like crap over the phone. James, you do far more than chafe my hide. I am making a list, James, and your name at the top of it. In bold print. Even though, at some point, I will likely shred the list and use it for worm bedding in my red wiggler farm, because that's the kind of girl I am ...for now, well, James, I am fantasizing. And believe me, you're not going to like one stinking bit. I am fantasizing about how when I am big and famous and the world is my oyster, you, James, YOU will be at the top of my list, in bold print, for me to tell the world just what a big fat jerk you are.
5. Cold feet
6. The color of my sprained ankle is just the perfect shade of purple .... for toe nail polish. Not for my ankle.
7. Radio Disney
8. There's no plateful of Holy Land Deli parked right next to me here in bed.
9. Zach hasn't asked me to be his Facebook friend.
10. I'm still awake.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
My Favorite Season is Not Fall
It's no secret that I don't do steps well. Our next house is going to to one level. Yesterday I, once again, fell down the stairs.
Only ... not really fell. I didn't slip, didn't fall. My ankle twisted on the last step and I went down, hands flailing in the air. It was almost .... Pentecostal. I wish I could have seen it from my audience's point of view (those three silent kids with backpacks on, eyes wide and mouths agape).
The part that I appreciate most about my latest disaster, though, is that it comes with a warning. One that I hope and pray you will heed.
I twisted my ankle while simultaneously running down the stairs and trying to open a Hershey's bar.
(Have I not always said how much I value honesty? Well, there you have it.)
I've been fighting a sinus infections for several days (which, by the way .... it appears I have conquered. BOOYA!!). Yesterday morning I took my echinacea, probiotics and zinc on an empty stomach. I was getting ready to head out the door to drive my older three kids to school when I realized that I need to get something down the hatch asap, or my infection-fighting-herbally-goodness would all be coming up soon. Knowing that I would be having a green smoothie when I returned to pick up the other two kids and take them to school, I did what any logical thinking person would do: grab one of the 85,000,000 fun size candy bars from the top of the refrigerator to tide me over.
I have never been accused of being terribly graceful. And I'm beginning to believe there might be a reason for this. I can walk and chew gum alright. Running down stairs and opening a candy bar, though? No can do.
It's good to know one's limitations in life, I guess.
I hope you learn from my mistakes.
Only ... not really fell. I didn't slip, didn't fall. My ankle twisted on the last step and I went down, hands flailing in the air. It was almost .... Pentecostal. I wish I could have seen it from my audience's point of view (those three silent kids with backpacks on, eyes wide and mouths agape).
The part that I appreciate most about my latest disaster, though, is that it comes with a warning. One that I hope and pray you will heed.
I twisted my ankle while simultaneously running down the stairs and trying to open a Hershey's bar.
(Have I not always said how much I value honesty? Well, there you have it.)
I've been fighting a sinus infections for several days (which, by the way .... it appears I have conquered. BOOYA!!). Yesterday morning I took my echinacea, probiotics and zinc on an empty stomach. I was getting ready to head out the door to drive my older three kids to school when I realized that I need to get something down the hatch asap, or my infection-fighting-herbally-goodness would all be coming up soon. Knowing that I would be having a green smoothie when I returned to pick up the other two kids and take them to school, I did what any logical thinking person would do: grab one of the 85,000,000 fun size candy bars from the top of the refrigerator to tide me over.
I have never been accused of being terribly graceful. And I'm beginning to believe there might be a reason for this. I can walk and chew gum alright. Running down stairs and opening a candy bar, though? No can do.
It's good to know one's limitations in life, I guess.
I hope you learn from my mistakes.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
What the Church Can Do
I've worked in the world of nonprofit for many years now. Both within a church context and outside of that. Lately, I've had some thoughts - one in particular - rolling around in my head (I think there's some extra space there, for thoughts to roll around and around in my head, keeping me up at night, keeping me distracted when I drive).
Here it is.
Are you ready?
There are some things that the church should do, but cannot do, simply because it is "the church."
And maybe I'm okay with that right now.
Maybe I've been defining "the church" too narrowly.
When it comes to caring for our neighbors, really building relationships with those we encounter day to day, and when it comes to fighting poverty and injustice, I wonder if Jesus really meant that "the people who spend Sunday morning together" must do x, y and z.
Now, I have been hugely blessed by the impact made by "the church" in both my own personal life, and by how I've seen them love and bless others. Church events that bring folks together in order to "be the hands and feet of Jesus" (where did that euphemism begin? Petra?) can be truly amazing and inspirational.
And I don't think this is about being a typical church or not. I'm really more than a little tired of slick videos where people promote their church saying, "we are not your typical church!!"
But maybe I've been assigning too much power to "church events." Like, in my own mind, I don't have time to participate in a specific church activity to bless others, therefore maybe I'm not doing my Christian duty.
Maybe ... it's not about the "good church events" that I over schedule into my time, amidst "everything else."
Maybe it's the "everything else" that need to be looked at a little more closely.
Maybe I, as part of "the church," am making an impact by praying for the person I encounter regularly, who I think might be overwhelmed with postpartum depression. By loving on her three year old who I fear isn't getting all that much love right now at home.
Growing up, I think the verses in Isaiah about our good deeds being like filthy rags got a little misconstrued. Somewhere along the line, it seems, my idea of what "the church" should do is 1) "be the hands and feet of Jesus" and then 2) smile and invite people to visit my church so they can get saved. The higher calling that I have as "one of the elect" or certainly as "one of those who are here in this building on Sunday morning" has probably been one of the most confusing and limiting things for me.
So maybe "the church" isn't really much at all about the impact I can make specificially with the dear friends I will spend time with tomorrow morning.
And maybe the impact that I make outside the context of "the church" umbrella is still just as relevant.
And maybe I'm okay with that.
Here it is.
Are you ready?
There are some things that the church should do, but cannot do, simply because it is "the church."
And maybe I'm okay with that right now.
Maybe I've been defining "the church" too narrowly.
When it comes to caring for our neighbors, really building relationships with those we encounter day to day, and when it comes to fighting poverty and injustice, I wonder if Jesus really meant that "the people who spend Sunday morning together" must do x, y and z.
Now, I have been hugely blessed by the impact made by "the church" in both my own personal life, and by how I've seen them love and bless others. Church events that bring folks together in order to "be the hands and feet of Jesus" (where did that euphemism begin? Petra?) can be truly amazing and inspirational.
And I don't think this is about being a typical church or not. I'm really more than a little tired of slick videos where people promote their church saying, "we are not your typical church!!"
But maybe I've been assigning too much power to "church events." Like, in my own mind, I don't have time to participate in a specific church activity to bless others, therefore maybe I'm not doing my Christian duty.
Maybe ... it's not about the "good church events" that I over schedule into my time, amidst "everything else."
Maybe it's the "everything else" that need to be looked at a little more closely.
Maybe I, as part of "the church," am making an impact by praying for the person I encounter regularly, who I think might be overwhelmed with postpartum depression. By loving on her three year old who I fear isn't getting all that much love right now at home.
Growing up, I think the verses in Isaiah about our good deeds being like filthy rags got a little misconstrued. Somewhere along the line, it seems, my idea of what "the church" should do is 1) "be the hands and feet of Jesus" and then 2) smile and invite people to visit my church so they can get saved. The higher calling that I have as "one of the elect" or certainly as "one of those who are here in this building on Sunday morning" has probably been one of the most confusing and limiting things for me.
So maybe "the church" isn't really much at all about the impact I can make specificially with the dear friends I will spend time with tomorrow morning.
And maybe the impact that I make outside the context of "the church" umbrella is still just as relevant.
And maybe I'm okay with that.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Girl Party
My oldest daughter has had a lot going on lately. She's been stressed out over grades, stretched too thin with swim team schedule, youth group schedule, work schedule, doctors appointments and extra challenging classes at school this quarter. Last week she had a nasty chest cold, to boot. She has not been at her finest.
While I've let her off the hook with pretty much any and all household responsibilities for the time being (no small change there, in a household of 7) and I've tried to be encouraging ... I will confess that being a "knuckle down" kind of gal (who is also low on the mercy scale)... I've probably not been the most empathetic. I've tried to sell her on several different strategies to use her time better, I've arranged a study group for her to join, I've ordered spare inhalers for when she gets sick, HEY! I've even done her laundry.
It dawned on me, finally, that I really need to just stop being so "helpful" already.
Raising four daughters, I've been mindful of how my generation of women does things, views things. Growing up, my friends and I, well, let's just say we though less than kindly of our monthly cycle. "The Curse." A necessary evil that we'd all be far better off without.
In adulthood, though (because you know, I am so much older and wiser now) I began to celebrate that time. The Girl Party. The Girl Party involves monthly bubble bath, goopy masque to cover your face with, sparkly new nail polish, red wine and dark chocolate. AND ... some blessed time a.l.o.n.e.
When my oldest daughter got her first period, we celebrated by getting her ears pierced and then getting her stocked up to have her own girl party (sans red wine). Dare I say she liked it just a bit? She was the preschooler, though, whose mama would set her up in a big bubble bath, tons of tub toys and a cup of hot chocolate + tons of whipped cream on the edge of the tub on especially bad days. Oh my gosh! I have had empathy a few other times!
So it dawned on me, on Friday, that while she really needed me to spend time lining up study groups, making some doctors appointments and cancelling others, is a break. A Girl Party. Duh. It had been so long since I'd spoiled my daughter that way, that I couldn't even remember the last time.
On the way home from work, I stopped at the store and got her a nice stash of goodies. I wrapped it up in a gift bag and hung it on her bedroom door knob before I left to pick up the littles and get to my son's football game.
Fast forward several hours, when we were all home, later that night, I asked my daughter how she was doing. I'd been excited for her to discover her gift while I was gone. Well, here's the kicker. Even though she'd been home a few hours, she hadn't ventured down the hall to her
bedroom. When I gave her the gift bag, and she looked inside, I swear I could see some of the stress lines around her jaw relax. And then she smiled. And exhaled. Maybe it was all going to be okay.
So here's what I'm left with, a day or two later. I've been going a thousand miles an hour lately. I have a few pretty big stressors right now that seem to be sucking the life out of me. But ... is it possible that I have missed some joy because I've been too focussed on the task at hand? Have there been some answers to my problems because I haven't bothered to venture out and find them?
While I've let her off the hook with pretty much any and all household responsibilities for the time being (no small change there, in a household of 7) and I've tried to be encouraging ... I will confess that being a "knuckle down" kind of gal (who is also low on the mercy scale)... I've probably not been the most empathetic. I've tried to sell her on several different strategies to use her time better, I've arranged a study group for her to join, I've ordered spare inhalers for when she gets sick, HEY! I've even done her laundry.
It dawned on me, finally, that I really need to just stop being so "helpful" already.
Raising four daughters, I've been mindful of how my generation of women does things, views things. Growing up, my friends and I, well, let's just say we though less than kindly of our monthly cycle. "The Curse." A necessary evil that we'd all be far better off without.
In adulthood, though (because you know, I am so much older and wiser now) I began to celebrate that time. The Girl Party. The Girl Party involves monthly bubble bath, goopy masque to cover your face with, sparkly new nail polish, red wine and dark chocolate. AND ... some blessed time a.l.o.n.e.
When my oldest daughter got her first period, we celebrated by getting her ears pierced and then getting her stocked up to have her own girl party (sans red wine). Dare I say she liked it just a bit? She was the preschooler, though, whose mama would set her up in a big bubble bath, tons of tub toys and a cup of hot chocolate + tons of whipped cream on the edge of the tub on especially bad days. Oh my gosh! I have had empathy a few other times!
So it dawned on me, on Friday, that while she really needed me to spend time lining up study groups, making some doctors appointments and cancelling others, is a break. A Girl Party. Duh. It had been so long since I'd spoiled my daughter that way, that I couldn't even remember the last time.
On the way home from work, I stopped at the store and got her a nice stash of goodies. I wrapped it up in a gift bag and hung it on her bedroom door knob before I left to pick up the littles and get to my son's football game.
Fast forward several hours, when we were all home, later that night, I asked my daughter how she was doing. I'd been excited for her to discover her gift while I was gone. Well, here's the kicker. Even though she'd been home a few hours, she hadn't ventured down the hall to her
bedroom. When I gave her the gift bag, and she looked inside, I swear I could see some of the stress lines around her jaw relax. And then she smiled. And exhaled. Maybe it was all going to be okay.
So here's what I'm left with, a day or two later. I've been going a thousand miles an hour lately. I have a few pretty big stressors right now that seem to be sucking the life out of me. But ... is it possible that I have missed some joy because I've been too focussed on the task at hand? Have there been some answers to my problems because I haven't bothered to venture out and find them?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Not So Good At Doing Nothing
So, it turns out that I don't "do nothing" very well. While the idea of taking a nice long (or short) break, to take time to smell the roses, yadda yadda yadda sounds lovely ... I do much better at working. Nose to grindstone. Keeping on keeping on. You probably get the picture.
Friday night I composed an idyllic sounding list of potential things to do while NOT working so hard. I had very good intentions ... yet we all know what the road to hell is paved with don't we, folks?
Saturday morning I slept in - until 8:30 am - and woke refreshed and renewed. Ready to roll up my sleeves and tackle the previously mentioned idyllic sounding list. After cleaning house/berating my children all day long, I began to experience a little anxiety, thinking my list may not be entirely achievable in a week ... and wondering if I should start dividing up the lists according to length of task and preparation needed. Because really, what good is a list if I cannot conquer it ... in less time than I said I would (there's extra credit here, right?)?
So as much as I would like to go back and edit the previous post, crossing out each item I have so far completed, and when my short and long term goals for the remainder of the list ... I'm not going to. Because I think that would defeat the purpose of the list just a wee bit.
Friday night I composed an idyllic sounding list of potential things to do while NOT working so hard. I had very good intentions ... yet we all know what the road to hell is paved with don't we, folks?
Saturday morning I slept in - until 8:30 am - and woke refreshed and renewed. Ready to roll up my sleeves and tackle the previously mentioned idyllic sounding list. After cleaning house/berating my children all day long, I began to experience a little anxiety, thinking my list may not be entirely achievable in a week ... and wondering if I should start dividing up the lists according to length of task and preparation needed. Because really, what good is a list if I cannot conquer it ... in less time than I said I would (there's extra credit here, right?)?
So as much as I would like to go back and edit the previous post, crossing out each item I have so far completed, and when my short and long term goals for the remainder of the list ... I'm not going to. Because I think that would defeat the purpose of the list just a wee bit.
Friday, September 25, 2009
One Year
I, and my family, have survived one year of me being in school + working + living life the best that I can. I have a one week break from the books now, and intend to make the most of it. I will, in no particular order:
share laughter and cheap wine with friends
watch the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice
clean my house
knit a hat - the perfect shade of orange - on bamboo needles
serve up large platters of food cooked with lots of lovin' and expensive olive oil
paint all my little girls' toenails and let them paint mine ... purple, I think
sleep late into the day, in lavender rinsed sheets
spend Sunday morning in my bathrobe, working on the New York Times crossword puzzle with a perfectly sharpened black Ticonderoga pencil
burn homemade candles made by my friend, Heather
go to yoga class a time or two
read the stack of novels that have been waiting for the textbooks to be set aside
cheer louder than anyone else at my kids sporting events, and physically threaten any linebacker who tries to intimidate my son, the running back. Because really, make no mistake, I am his mother and could totally take you down. Anytime, anywhere.
share laughter and cheap wine with friends
watch the BBC version of Pride & Prejudice
clean my house
knit a hat - the perfect shade of orange - on bamboo needles
serve up large platters of food cooked with lots of lovin' and expensive olive oil
paint all my little girls' toenails and let them paint mine ... purple, I think
sleep late into the day, in lavender rinsed sheets
spend Sunday morning in my bathrobe, working on the New York Times crossword puzzle with a perfectly sharpened black Ticonderoga pencil
burn homemade candles made by my friend, Heather
go to yoga class a time or two
read the stack of novels that have been waiting for the textbooks to be set aside
cheer louder than anyone else at my kids sporting events, and physically threaten any linebacker who tries to intimidate my son, the running back. Because really, make no mistake, I am his mother and could totally take you down. Anytime, anywhere.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity
As of yesterday, my kids are .............drumroll ................ all in school. It took me 16+ years of parenting, but it finally happened. Because we chose to homeschool our kids for five years (the older two during their middle school years and the younger three for some of those years, too), I've always had one or more kids at home during the school year.
I'm okay with that. Now. But I wasn't.
I live my life according to Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity (really, do people not get paid for this? Hello, Mr. or Ms. Murphy? Mr. or Ms. Thermodynamics?).
Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity states that:
When significant drama, disappointment or life change comes your way, it is imperative that you set aside a predetermined amount of time to wallow in self pity. Really wallow. Depending on the severity of the situation, you may need an evening to wallow, or you may need an entire weekend. The key here is that the time period needs to be decided upon ahead of time.
I knew my son was going to begin high school this fall, well, always. The homeschooling plan for him had been specifically to be home for those 3 middle school years and then return to public school. No surprises there. Being the eternal pragmatist, I held off, even though I knew, at the end of the summer, I was in for a good wallowing. Wallowing competes for your time, and distracts you from tackling the rest of your life, so it really needs to be scheduled.
When wallowing in self pity, don't do it half way. It needs to be done wholeheartedly. Eat candy bars in bed, under the covers, while flipping through the tv channels with the remote. Lock yourself in the bathroom with candy (yes, more. Wholeheartedly, remember?) and a big plastic tumbler of wine. Make loud groaning and sighing noises frequently; walk with shoulders stooped. Wholeheartedly.
The third part of Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity involves the boot straps. When the predetermined time for wallowing in self pity is over, it's over. Wash the sheets, wash your tear stained face, start a detox diet to counteract everything you just ate and drank. It's time to pull hard on those proverbial boot straps.
I spent some time wallowing this past weekend ... perhaps my family noticed just a wee bit. But I knew, come Tuesday morning, that the boot straps would be getting their "heave ho." Everyone, including myself, was up before their alarm clocks went off, excited and a little nervous about the day to come. My eyes did fill up with tears, driving home from dropping my new high schooler off, but no tears actually escaped down my cheeks. And they were mostly happy tears anyways, so it wouldn't have counted.
My kids are all in school!
I am 1000% convinced that homeschooling, when we did, was the very best decision for our family. And I am equally convinced that the kids being "in school" right now is the very best decision for our family. I suppose that makes everything a little easier - I know it does. But wallowing in self pity just a bit made it a little easier, too.
I'm okay with that. Now. But I wasn't.
I live my life according to Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity (really, do people not get paid for this? Hello, Mr. or Ms. Murphy? Mr. or Ms. Thermodynamics?).
Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity states that:
When significant drama, disappointment or life change comes your way, it is imperative that you set aside a predetermined amount of time to wallow in self pity. Really wallow. Depending on the severity of the situation, you may need an evening to wallow, or you may need an entire weekend. The key here is that the time period needs to be decided upon ahead of time.
I knew my son was going to begin high school this fall, well, always. The homeschooling plan for him had been specifically to be home for those 3 middle school years and then return to public school. No surprises there. Being the eternal pragmatist, I held off, even though I knew, at the end of the summer, I was in for a good wallowing. Wallowing competes for your time, and distracts you from tackling the rest of your life, so it really needs to be scheduled.
When wallowing in self pity, don't do it half way. It needs to be done wholeheartedly. Eat candy bars in bed, under the covers, while flipping through the tv channels with the remote. Lock yourself in the bathroom with candy (yes, more. Wholeheartedly, remember?) and a big plastic tumbler of wine. Make loud groaning and sighing noises frequently; walk with shoulders stooped. Wholeheartedly.
The third part of Bonny's Law of Wallowing in Self Pity involves the boot straps. When the predetermined time for wallowing in self pity is over, it's over. Wash the sheets, wash your tear stained face, start a detox diet to counteract everything you just ate and drank. It's time to pull hard on those proverbial boot straps.
I spent some time wallowing this past weekend ... perhaps my family noticed just a wee bit. But I knew, come Tuesday morning, that the boot straps would be getting their "heave ho." Everyone, including myself, was up before their alarm clocks went off, excited and a little nervous about the day to come. My eyes did fill up with tears, driving home from dropping my new high schooler off, but no tears actually escaped down my cheeks. And they were mostly happy tears anyways, so it wouldn't have counted.
My kids are all in school!
I am 1000% convinced that homeschooling, when we did, was the very best decision for our family. And I am equally convinced that the kids being "in school" right now is the very best decision for our family. I suppose that makes everything a little easier - I know it does. But wallowing in self pity just a bit made it a little easier, too.
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