Category Archives: life

October 14, 2011 · 7:35 AM

Things I Love

Yesterday, I was unloading the dishwasher  in that ho-hum, autopilot fashion that I think most of us employ when tending to mundane tasks.  Grab the cups, stack the plates, sort the silverware…  Grab, grab, stack, stack, sort, sort.  This mug was the last thing I took out of the top rack, and as I set it on the counter, it made me smile.  This mug makes me happy  – seriously, how can you not be happy when you look at the Life is Good guy?? –  and I don’t use it often enough.  It occurred to me as I was looking at this mug that it was one of just a very few items that I’d taken out of the dishwasher that I really loved.  (My striped mugs still fall into the “love” category as well)

As I looked around the kitchen, and then the rest of the house, I started asking myself how much of what I was seeing did I love.    Not what was “nice” or expensive or fancy, but what I really loved… for whatever reason.  It didn’t take me long to realize, “Dang, we accumulated a lot of extra ‘stuff’ again.”  It’s stifling, and suffocating, and I don’t want to live that way anymore.  I want to love what’s in my house.   Now granted, I know I’m not going to love everything.  I don’t jump for joy every time I open a new package of q-tips or kitchen sponges, but I use them.  If it’s not something I – or something else in my family – love OR use, what on earth is it doing in the house?

It’s not the first time I’ve done this either.  I’ve been struck with inspiration before, determined to de-clutter and simplify…. but somehow the extra stuff creeps back in.  I don’t like it.  So, starting today, I’m going to purposely change that. I’m going to streamline.  Simplify.   I’m going to take the next week, or month, or six months or however long it takes and go through my house room by room.  If it’s not loved or used, it goes.  I want my home to be mindfully filled with things that make us happy, not a receptacle for so much accumulated extra stuff that we can’t even find the things we love.  Thankfully the kids are all helpful and discerning when it comes to decluttering as well.  They have no problem parting with old toys and clothes they no longer use, especially when they know they’re going to go to another child who will enjoy them.   They always get into the project once it begins, and are excited by the new, less claustrophobia-inducing house once progress is made.  Tegan, at three, tends to be more of a saver than the others, but who am I to question her love for a stick or a rock or a gum wrapper from 6 months ago?   And the husband is even more supportive than the kids.  Any time I’ve suggested the possibility of less stuff, it’s always been met with a resounding, “Yes.  Throw it away!  Get it out of the house!!”

So I’m gonna.  Now.  And I can’t wait.

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Filed under about me, decluttering, life, perspective, simplifying

October 12, 2011 · 1:47 PM

Mom, he’s helping me again…

 

Everett was bored this morning and I asked him if he wanted to play a game.  He liked that idea and returned a few minutes later with Herd Your Horses.  It’s a fun game, and one we haven’t played in a long time, so I was more than willing to play with him.  Tegan wanted to play too, and she came to join us as we were getting everything set up.   The problem with playing a board game with a three year old is that while she’s definitely old enough to really want to play, she’s often not quite old enough to really get it.   And that’s fine…. we don’t ask her to adhere to the same rules, and we don’t expect that she’s going to do everything “correctly”.  We wing it, and we have fun, and we keep it light.

Except….

The seven year old takes games very seriously, and he doesn’t like bending the rules.  He also (understandably) doesn’t like it when his sister tries to take his cards or move his piece or tell him what to do – none of which are ever out of the realm of possibility.   Sometimes we figure it all out and we meet a happy compromise.

Sometimes, like today, it goes more like this:

E:  Tegan, that’s a six, not a five.

T:  Stop helping me!  Mommy, he HELPED me!!

E:  I’m sorry, I’ll stop helping you.  Give me back my card!

T:  Who’s winning??

E:  That’s my piece, not yours.

T:  YOU SAID YOU’D STOP HELPING ME!!!

E:  Why are you yelling?

T:  Because this game is STUPID if Everett keeps helping me, and He. Keeps.  Helping. Me.

E:  I won’t help you anymore.

T:  Am I winning??

E:  Oooo, eeee, ooo, ah ah.  Ching Chang….

T:  Stop singing!

E:  Why?

T:  It’s annoying me.  You sound like a monkey.  I’M WINNING!!!

T:  Heh heh heh, I’m going to steal Everett’s horse.

E:  Tegan.  You can’t steal a horse unless you land on me.

T:  Are you still helping me???

E:  Yes!  A six!  I win!

T:  I win too!!!  That was SO FUN.  Let’s play another game!!

So we did.  But I poured another cup of coffee first.

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Filed under Everett, life, Tegan, unschooling

October 10, 2011 · 9:02 AM

People Who Won’t Bounce

 

Yesterday afternoon, we were over at some some friends’ house for a birthday party.  There was food and swimming and eventually trampoline jumping.  The boys decided that they’d had enough jumping, and went off to play basketball in the driveway.   Tegan still had a lot of bounce left in her though, so she started campaigning for partners.  I jumped with her for a short while (as long as my pizza and margarita filled stomach would tolerate), and so did her 11 year old friend as well as her father.

She was still unhappy.

“Why can’t Hannah bounce with me some more??”  she asked with a scowl on her face as she sat on the edge of the trampoline.

“Maybe she will if you ask her, instead of fussing about the trampoline,” Mike told her.

“I am not fussing about the trampoline.  I am fussing about all you PEOPLE who won’t. bounce. with. me.”

Three year olds are awesome.  Seriously.  How cool is it that she was able to identify, and then verbalize, exactly what (or in this case, whom) she was upset about?  No Daddy, I’m not upset with the trampoline, I’m upset with people, and I’ll tell you why.  How many adults could stand to learn from that?  I know I could.  We grumble around when we have an issue with a spouse or a friend or a family member or a random person on the internet… and instead of identifying it, we simply internalize it and then take it out on the dog or the computer or any nearby unsuspecting victim.

And as it turned out, I could have benefited from following my daughter’s honest example.  I was upset last night, and didn’t feel like admitting it or verbalizing it or talking about it at all.  So I ended up breaking the cardinal rule of marriage 101 and went to bed angry, which in turn led to a night of fitful, broken sleep, nightmares, a stomach ache, and bad infomercials at 2:00 in the morning.  (Are you versed on the wonders of the latest and greatest diet aid that is Sensa?  I could tell you all about it)

Tegan, however, had her problem solved right then and there, because she was willing to put it all out on the line.  Granted, if she had a few more years and maturity, she could have done so a little more… politely… but there’s something to be said for a three year old’s authenticity to be sure.  It is innocent, and pure, and TRUE, and I love that.

So the next time I’m upset with someone, I’m going to try to remember my daughter, and remember the benefit (for all involved) in honesty.    ‘Cause let’s face it:  It rarely IS about the trampoline.

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Filed under life, Tegan

September 27, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Life is not fair, and no, I won’t get used to it.

The following list of rules has been showing up on my Facebook feed, and being credited to Bill Gates.  I did a little bit of research (aka went to snopes.com) and found that it’s long been incorrectly attributed to Gates, when it was really written by a man named Charles J. Sykes,  author of a book called “Dumbing Down Our Kids: Why American Children Feel Good About Themselves, but can’t Read, Write, or Add”.   While lots of people praise it for its advice, the whole thing struck me as pessimistic and resentful towards kids in general.  Here is the list, coupled with my response to Mr Sykes.

Rules You Won’t Learn in School

Rule 1: Life is not fair – get used to it!

Is there an element of truth to this?  Sure.  Sometimes life isn’t fair. But subscribing to this sort of philosophy is like living the old adage, “Life sucks and then you die.”  It is a pessimistic, sad, and destructive way to view the world, and your life.  I certainly wouldn’t want to view life in that manner, and I wouldn’t my kids to either.  I choose to focus on the GOOD.

Rule 2: The world doesn’t care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

So let me understand this.  We’re not to feel good about ourselves until we “accomplish something?”  Who decides what we need to accomplish before we feel good about ourselves?   I didn’t finish college.  I didn’t get a 1600 on my SATs.  I haven’t worked outside the home in over a decade.  Should I not feel good about myself?   Because I do, unabashedly.  And it seems to me that in this day and age of bullying, drug addiction, eating disorders, and trying to fit in with the crowd that school kids’ self esteem is at a collective all-time LOW.  I’m thinking that advising them to “accomplish” something before they even think about feeling good about themselves isn’t such a stellar plan.  My kids do feel good about themselves, and because they feel good about themselves, they can ‘accomplish’ anything they put their minds to.

Rule 3: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won’t be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Absolutely.  You probably won’t.  But I don’t want my kids to chasing a goal of x dollars a year, or of being a “vice president with a car phone.”  I want them to follow their path.  Maybe it doesn’t involve making $60,000 a year.  Maybe they have no desire to be a vice president of anything.   If they’re happy and growing and pursuing their own goals it won’t matter if they’re making $10 an hour or six figures a year.  If THEY are happy (and this is assuming they have ignored the advice in #2 and feel good about themselves even before they’ve “accomplished” anything) then I will be happy as well. 

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

I have had great teachers, and I have had great bosses.  I don’t want my kids to fear somebody being “tough” on them, but to approach each new opportunity, person, and experience with an open mind, and an open heart.

Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: They called it opportunity.

Who said it was beneath anyone’s dignity?  I worked at McDonald’s as a teen.  I picked blueberries one summer.  I’ve mucked horse stalls.  I’ve cashiered more years than I care to count.  I was grateful for every job that I had, and I’ve no doubt that my kids will feel the same way.   I can’t help but wonder why Mr Sykes has such a low opinion of today’s youth.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it’s not your parents’ fault, so don’t whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Seriously, what is with all the negativity?  My kids make mistakes (as do I) all the time.  Never once have I seen them blame me.  They learn from their mistakes just like their parents do.  But then again, they have self-esteem.  I’d imagine it’d be easier to blame someone else for your mistakes if you didn’t feel good about yourself.  So maybe if you scrapped number 2, you could scrap number 6 too. 

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren’t as boring as they are now. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent’s generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

This one made my 11 year old laugh.  He said, “That’s pretty  funny.  NOT TRUE, but funny.”  He doesn’t think we’re boring, and he knows we don’t view him or his siblings as a burden, or as someone who needs to somehow be indebted to us because we pay his bills, or clean his clothes.  I’d join him in his laughter except that it makes me genuinely sad to hear someone talk in such an insulting way about children in general.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they’ll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. *This doesn’t bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.*

Well, I do agree that school does not bear the slightest resemblance to real life, but not because of this example.  Schools that are abolishing traditional testing and grading systems are actually getting closer to real life than those that are not.  In real life, we’re allowed to use calculators, and we don’t have to “show our work.”  In real life, employees get to ask questions, get feedback from bosses and coworkers, and often work as a team.  In real life, people don’t have to be graded and categorized and labeled, and in real life people get to CHOOSE what they study, what they pursue, and how and where and why they work.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don’t get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF.  Do that on your own time.

No, life is not divided into semesters.  And no, you don’t get summers off.  What strikes me about this rule though is this:  Most kids are in school, what, 6, 8 hours a day?  Add to that the 2 hours of homework, and to that the hour of after school sports… When does Mr Sykes suggest that kids actually get their “own” time to find themselves?

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

We’re big fans of Friends, so this one made us laugh too.  It’s laughable for other reasons though.  The kids know that Friends is just  a TV show.   Even the 3 year old understands that Daddy goes to work every day,  and she understands why.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you’ll end up working for one.

Kind of ironic that he’s concerned about being nice to ‘nerds’, at the tail end of a list that’s been anything but nice to children.   But by all means, YES, be nice to nerds.  Be nice to teachers.  Be nice to jocks and geeks and popular kids and kids who smoke in between classes.  Be nice to the people who get on your very last nerve and be nice to the people who make you want, with every fiber of your being, to be the exact opposite of ‘nice’.   Not because you might be working for them one day, but because it’s the right thing to do.  And because – if you’ll ignore rules 1 through 10 – you’ll feel good about yourself, and positive about life, and will genuinely want to share it with others.

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Filed under kids, life, unschooling

September 14, 2011 · 3:10 PM

Making Peace with a Schedule

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A few weeks ago, I got an email from someone looking to flesh out the concept of unschooling a little more. One of her (paraphrased) questions was “Do you ever feel like you’re just spinning your wheels, and/or putting out fires all day?”

My answer: Yes. And when I notice it’s happening frequently, I know it’s time for something to change. More specifically, I know it’s time for me to make a change. It’s not a good thing for me OR the kids if I’m scattered all day, flitting here and there and not really present for any of it. Unschooling shouldn’t be about reacting, but about being there, right there in the moment.

Since getting all renewed and re-inspired at the conference, I have sadly realized that I really have been doing all too much wheel-spinning lately. Further, I’ve realized that I have done the same exact thing when each of my boys was Tegan’s age (3) as well. When my kids are around 3 – not quite babies anymore – I sort of have a little life crisis. They are more independent, and playing on their own more often, and needing me in very different ways than before. I start to feel that itch of wanting to take on a new hobby, or start a new business, or devote some time to a certain passion. The difference this time though is that when the boys were her age, I was either about to have another baby, or I’d just had one. So the feelings would go away, and I’d happily immerse myself once again in diapers and onesies and dimpled elbows and chubby feet and sweet smelling baby heads. This time there is no pregnancy and there is no new baby. Which is in turns heartbreakingly sad, and strangely exciting.

Lately my heightened crisis has caused me to become suddenly interested in 20,000 different things. And of course I still want to be present for my kids, and fully invested in unschooling and hands-on parenting. I want to figure out this whole “homemaker” thing, and make (and keep) a nice home for my family. I also want to have some time for myself, and some time for blogging, and some time for pursuing my own interests. As a result, I’m sorry to say, I feel I’ve been only a little bit good at all of the above. I’ve also been anxious about the new season, which is suddenly thrusting us from having zero standing weekly plans to having basketball, gymnastics, scouts, church, and bible study meetings.

And so, I’ve decided to get organized and make a plan. Instead of a zillion personal pursuits, at the moment I’m going to focus on one. And you’re reading it. This blog is my fifth baby, my heart, and my soul. I don’t know what is going to happen in the future, but for right now, this is what I need to be doing. I need to be doing it so badly that I actually made myself a schedule.

I’m not a big schedule person (in fact I sort of hate them with a passion), but I also know that they work really, really well for me. They help me focus on what I’m supposed to be focusing on, and they help my scattered brain get a little less scattered.

Here then, is my – always flexible, always subject to change – schedule:

Morning: Coffee, emails, empty the dishwasher

Rest of the day into the afternoon: Leave the computer alone (instead of checking emails/Facebook in 2 or 3 minute little bursts all the live long day). Be present and focused and available for the kids…. for playing, for projects, for questions, for reading, for talking, for hanging out.

2:00-4:00ish (still working on this): Take time for myself to blog, answer emails and comments, and work on other writing-related stuff, without feeling guilty about it.

4:30 Pick up our messes for the day to get ready for the evening

5:00 till whenever we go to bed: Dinner, dishes, activities, television, playing, and hanging out (and maybe I’ll check emails and Facebook somewhere in there too :)).

The idea is that when I’m with the kids, I’m WITH them. When I’m doing something for me, I’m doing something for me. And so on. It’s still very much an experiment, because honestly, it’s something I’ve never really tried before. I had grand plans to start it yesterday, but instead had an unexpected (and welcome) outing with friends we haven’t seen for 3 months.

So we started it today. I did pretty well with ignoring my computer until 2:00, although I’m thinking I’m not so great with the cold turkey thing. The kids were all 100% on board with giving me my time at 2:00… but I spent 10 minutes of it in the tub with the girl, and another 5 explaining to the 14 year old about researching “completed” listings on Ebay to help price something he wanted to sell… both of which were momentarily more important than my own needs. At the time of this writing, it is 3:00, and all four kids have settled into a happy, comfortable groove. I’ll commit myself to giving it an honest try, and a fair amount of time, and we’ll see what it brings. I’m kind of excited at the prospect though, even if it means some adjustment, for all involved.

If you’re a stay-at-home parent, do you have some sort of schedule for your day? How does it work for you?

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September 6, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Questions

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“The unanswered questions aren’t nearly as dangerous as the unquestioned answers.”

I am a questioner.  I always have been.  I was the student that drove the teacher crazy, asking question after question (sometimes pertaining to the subject at hand, sometimes not)  Pre-kids, I worked in retail.  I worked my way up from part-time cashier to full-time manager in about 18 months, thanks in large part to my questioning nature.  I’m never satisfied with anything at face value … I always need to know more.  I want to know what, I want to know when, I want to know WHY.   And when I do I get an answer?  I question that too.

Questions are how we make sense of the world around us.  Questions are how we learn… not just about our external lives, but about ourselves.  How do we really know how we feel about something unless we question it?

It should come as little surprise then that my children love to question as well.  I welcome and encourage any and all questions, including – or especially – those that people consider to be of a sensitive nature.  It makes no practical difference to me.  “Mommy, why is the sky blue?” and “Mommy, what does ‘gay’ mean?” will both receive the same amount of respect and attention.  An honest question deserves an honest answer, regardless of where it came from.

I’m thinking of questions today because of this.  Chaz Bono is going to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars this season, and it has apparently caused a whole bunch of ruffled feathers.  Parents are publicly complaining, lambasting ABC, and boycotting the show.  People are worried that their children are going to ask questions, and this makes them uncomfortable.  I have a question for those parents, but first an observation or two:  1.  The great thing about television is that you always have the right to choose.  If you don’t like the fact that’s he on the show, you can simply not watch. And 2. The show is called Dancing with the Stars, not The Intimate Details of Chaz Bono’s Private Life.  It’s a dancing competition, not a documentary.  I’m not really sure why his gender is even at issue.

My question though is this…. If you watch, and if the issue of transgenderism is raised, and if your child asks questions (an awful lot of “ifs”), why are those questions a bad thing?  What exactly is the fear there?  It seems to me that we should be glad as parents that our children feel close enough and comfortable enough to come to us with their questions, of all sort.  They are going to ask someone their questions, and I would far rather it be me than Google,or a random child on the playground.  Even if you don’t agree with Chaz Bono’s lifestyle choices, your distaste doesn’t make him cease to exist.  Your discomfort doesn’t negate your child’s prerogative to ask questions about something that he/she doesn’t understand.   They have a right to be curious, and they have a right to an answer.  There is always something you can say, even if it’s “You know what, that question really caught me off guard.  Let me think about how to explain it for a minute.”  So often though, the answer they’re looking for is really much more simple than we make it.  And if they need more information, they will ask!

Kids will ask questions.

Kids will sometimes ask hard questions (and honestly, explaining what “transgendered” means is far from the hardest question I’ve ever had to answer).  I think it’s our job as parents to answer them openly, honestly, and simply… whether the questions are about blue skies and rainbows or gender and sexuality.

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September 1, 2011 · 1:08 PM

A Year Without Mirrors

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Have you seen this blog?

Mirror, Mirror… OFF The Wall

I came across this the other day, and I found it absolutely fascinating. Like really fascinating. I can’t stop reading. You’ll definitely want to spend some time there when you’re done here (you’re welcome), but in a nutshell:

It’s written by a woman who formerly worked in the fashion industry, and is currently studying the relationship between “beauty” and equality. The blog is about her year-long experiment – begun 6 months before her wedding – in which she completely gives up mirrors.

I love it. Love the concept, love her writing, love how it makes me think.

Body image and self image and how we perceive beauty in general are such a huge part of our culture. I like to pretend that they aren’t, but turning on a television or picking up a magazine or walking just about anywhere in public tells me otherwise.

My kids tell me otherwise too, in ways that break my heart. My 14 year old starting to worry about shaving and acne and what girls will think of his appearance. My 11 year old, who has finally stopped cutting off all his curls because he thought that straight hair was cooler. My three year old little girl, who’s already been told by a proud 5 year old cousin: “You’re not as skinny as me.”

It all makes me sad, and certainly isn’t a subject that can be covered (or covered well anyway) in one single blog post. I think I just might write about it some more in the future. In the meantime, check out her blog, and be inspired.

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Filed under blogging, life, random, self image

August 29, 2011 · 6:00 AM

Kind People in Red Shirts

We recently started going back to church, after many many logical, sensible, well-thought-out reasons excuses kept us away for many months. I really love this church. And I’ve realized that it’s not because of the great music or the pretty campus or even the inspiring messages. It’s not because I leave feeling all warm and fuzzy every Sunday. All that is nice and everything, but it’s really of little importance how it makes me feel. The reason I love it is that it’s full of people who, by and large, are committed to going out and BEING the church… people who are kind and giving and have servant hearts. Not just on Sundays, not just because they feel like they have to, but because they want to.

This past Saturday, we joined a group of other members from our neighborhood for a service project. Our assignment was to clean out a large planter at the local elementary school, to get it ready for a future sustainable work of art. The kids were very excited to be able to do their part to help, and all six of us were warmly welcomed by the group (none of whom we’d met before) when we got started.

Ironically, shortly into our morning of service, we were the ones getting served. We’d only been there for around half and hour when Spencer misjudged a step, lost his footing and fell from the side of the planter, scraping his legs in the process. At first he answered with a quick affirmative to all the concerned “Are you okay?”s, but eventually accepted an offer to at least sit and get some cool water on his scrapes. As the adrenaline – and the 100+ degree heat – started catching up with him, he grew paler and paler.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, which garnered the attention of another kind samaritan from the group. He took one look at Spencer’s face, which was still losing color, and said we needed to get him inside under some air conditioning. He helped us inside the school, holding cold bottled water against his neck. (He explained as we went that holding it on the carotid artery would cool the body. Later on, Spencer told me that he enjoyed that bit of information, as he is very familiar with the term from watching all his medical shows)

He stood and chatted with us inside the school’s office, while Spencer sipped cold water and tried to cool off. He was starting to look a little green, and finally admitted he was feeling nauseous and light-headed. Our rescuer disappeared then, and returned about 30 seconds later with a big dripping wet something that he draped around Spencer’s head and neck (which helped almost instantly.) The man had literally taken the shirt off his back and soaked it in cold water to come to the aid of an overheated kid he’d just met. And all I could do was say thank you.

Thank you kind man for making sure my son did not pass out. Thank you half a dozen people who asked, more than once, if he was feeling better.

Thank you for the friendly conversation, and for treating our kids like the interesting, unique people that they are.

Thank you stranger who let my 3 and 7 year old help paint the Arizona map, and made them feel special and important, and didn’t once complain about drips or unevenness.

Thank you red shirted people, for welcoming us into your fold, helping us serve the community, and helping each other serve US. Thank you for your unexpected ability, in the short span of two hours, to completely restore my faith in humanity.

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August 22, 2011 · 11:33 AM

Sewing, My Daughter, and Breakthroughs

I sewed diapers for Tegan’s Baby Alive doll yesterday. Prior to yesterday, the last time I sewed anything on a sewing machine was around ten years ago. I didn’t own a sewing machine then, so I had to borrow one when I wanted to make some curtains. A couple of years later, my mom gave me a brand-new sewing machine because she’d somehow wound up with an extra…. and it has sat, untouched, in my garage until yesterday. Partly because that’s just the way I do things, and partly because I had a bad association with sewing.

When I made the curtains on that borrowed machine, there was an… incident. There was an incident, I got my feelings hurt, and I haven’t sewed since then.

Is that not the stupidest reason not to do something? But there it was.

I’ve wanted to conquer my sewing machine for awhile now, and when my daughter needed baby diapers, I knew it was time. So I sewed. And it was fun.

I sewed four diapers in all, and will be making some more today. They’re not pretty… they’re uneven and messy and quite clearly shout “A novice made me.” But my daughter is thrilled, and that makes me happy. It felt good too, to do something I hadn’t done in a long time; to do something that I’d been avoiding.

When I’d finished for the night last night, still on a post-project high, I told Mike how glad I was that I’d finally gotten out the sewing machine. And that part of the reason I hadn’t done it sooner was because of old feelings from the last time.

“I know.”

And then I said, as if it wasn’t the millionth time I’d realized it, “I do that a LOT.”

Again he said, “I know.”

I have spent way too much time letting pride, old wounds, and fear stop me from doing things I want to do. As my friend Jessica says, That’s stupid, so I’m not going to do it anymore. That’s not an example I want to set for my kids.

Am I going to become a master seamstress? I doubt it, only because there are lots of other things I want to do too. But I’m not afraid of my sewing machine anymore. And the next time Tegan – or any of my children – ask me to sew something, the answer will be a confident, joyful and resounding,

YES. Yes I can.

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August 16, 2011 · 6:30 AM

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

 

Does anyone remember reading this book as a kid? I remember the book well, and I remember a 6th grade creative writing assignment (I remember a LOT of creative writing assignments in eery detail) where we had to write our own version. Mine involved throwing an alarm clock in frustration and accidentally hitting my dad, pouring milk on my cereal only to find out it was spoiled, and falling out an open window at school.

I always think of that book on days like yesterday… days marred by not one big lousy thing, but a succession of many many little lousy things. The kind of day that when, at 4:00 in the afternoon, you finally get your first chance to sit down for a tenth of a second (on the bathroom floor no less, because taking a bath is the absolute only thing that the three year old wants to do), your seven year old promptly kicks over your entire cup of coffee in his haste to join his sister in the tub. The kind of day when you spend a good two minutes with a wet pair of shorts, just staring at the tan puddle spreading across the tile from said cup of coffee, because you’re literally too tired to do anything about it. The kind of day when you actually dread leaving your post on the cold bathroom floor – as uncomfortable as it is – because you don’t want to face the mess that awaits in the rest of the house.

The kind of day when you finally and gratefully go to bed after a warm meal, in your comfortable house in your safe neighborhood… after you kiss your four healthy kids goodnight and turn out the lights… and there’s nothing you can do but thank God that even on the bad days, your life’s pretty damn good.

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