fragments of a Mother’s Day weekend.
In case you don’t follow me on facebook or twitter, here’s a little compilation of my weekend updates:
Friday, May 11, 2012 – Trying to learn this: “The difference between being 95% prepared & 100% prepared (whatever that is) is infinitesimal. It is not perceived. But the energy expended in moving from 95% to 100% is immense, much more than that required to move from 75% to 95%.” Alan Weiss
Saturday, May 12 2012
11:24am – My husband loves me! He just used his AMEX points to buy me a new phone for Mother’s Day!!! (I’m not eligible for an upgrade till November). I hope I love it as much as I think I will! But if not, I ordered it from Walmart. They let you return anything.
4:19pm – Tackling the paper mountain that is my office. I’ve avoided working in there since I brought the 45+ pounds of paper home from my mom’s house after her death in December. Time to reclaim my work space. #somuchpaper
7:45pm – More than three hours later and I’m still going through the 45+ pounds of paper I’ve ignored since I brought it home from my mom’s after her death in December. Thousands of pieces of paper – mementos, letters, records, photos…when I started this weekend project, I didn’t even connect it with Mother’s Day. God is weird that way.
10:53pm – took over 6 hours to sort all the paper from my mom’s house. Now I’m ready to deep clean and purge my office of our own paper and clutter. Well. not NOW. Maybe tomorrow.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
2:34pm – So proud of PinkGirl! She did a wonderful job on “Mighty to Save” this morning during the 8am and 11am services. And an added mom bonus? She LISTENED and FOLLOWED MY ADVICE during her vocal warm up this morning!!! A Mother’s Day miracle! #ilovemydaughter
3:08pm – I ordered my new phone yesterday. I’m ready for it to be here now. #impatient
I’m going from a 2.5 x 2.5 inch Motorola Flipout to a 7 inch Dell Streak
This is a HUGE change for me. No more tucking my phone in my bra. Just saying.
3:27pm
PinkGirl’s text to her dad about singing special music at the 8am service this morning: “The power went out so we stopped and I messed up double so yay!” 8:29 AM
PinkGirl: “DAD!” 8:31 AM
PinkGirl: “Yo Horton!!!” 8:31 AM
Her Dad: “Bummer. You will do better at 11″ 8:34 AM
PinkGirl: My dress was sooo short i was afraid i was gonna flash the congregation! 
” 8:36 AM
(Mom Note: she is so impatient. I don’t know where she gets it. and the dress was short, but not that short. There was no view of London or France at any time.)
7:06pm – I had to complete a scavenger hunt to find my Mother’s Day present. Seven clues later, it was a coupon for “a FREE two day pass to PINKGIRL WORLD! Where PinkGirl will tend to your every need and do whatever you want willingly without grumbling or complaining. Not valid on School Days.” The location of this priceless coupon? Buried in the cat’s litter box. At least she scooped it first. #ilovemydaughter
All in all, it was a good weekend. Finally got to meet a long time blog friend and her family at EPCOT Friday night while they were vacationing here. A rare Sunday morning praise team set where I think we had a perfect balance between abandoning ourselves to worship and striving for excellence and time spent with friends and family on Sunday afternoon.
God is Good. All the Time.
“Discovery Day” is right.
FirstHusband and FavoriteSon went to a college “Discovery Day” on Saturday, inspecting a potential choice for FavoriteSon.
I think it just hit me that, if he goes away to college as a freshman, his sister will only be in 7th grade when he goes.
That hadn’t even crossed my mind.
We would miss him like crazy, but his sister? Serious, serious, serious sadness. The loss of that daily interaction between them would be so hard for her. They may fight sometimes, but they really love each other.
Anyone have that experience themselves as a child? Have an older sibling move away to college? How old were you? How did it change your daily life? How do you think the presence an older brother or sister in your daily life would have changed your remaining years living at home?
identity crisis. part 1.
Eleven year old PinkGirl auditioned for Beauty and the Beast this month. Of course she wanted the part of Belle. At the four hour cast call backs the week after her first audition, she sang and read for Belle. The only other character she was asked to try was Babbette, the feather duster.
She couldn’t do the walk.
In the end, she got the part of Madam. The Wardrobe.
She hadn’t been asked to sing or read for any other character, and the role of the Wardrobe wasn’t announced until just before the role of Belle, so as she heard the other parts being assigned to her fellow cast members, the process of elimination gave her false hope. When her name was called, she was completely blindsided.
The moment they were dismissed, she bolted out the door, still in her jazz shoes. She held herself together until she was about three feet from the van. Since she had run out so fast, none of her friends heard her break down crying.
I got in the van and quickly drove to an empty spot in the parking lot.
Immediately – and I mean IMMEDIATELY – she leapt to the conclusion that she wasn’t good at the one thing she thought she was really good at. The decision made by this stranger somehow represented the real truth and everyone else who had ever told her she was good was just being nice. This was a sign that she should quit. This was proof that she wasn’t as good at singing and acting as she thought she was. This was God saying no, not only to Belle, but to theater. She was just fooling herself, wasting everyone’s time and her parent’s money.
She said all these things to herself and to me through broken tears. Then she SCREAMED them again at God. At the top of her lungs, she DEMANDED to know why He was breaking her heart. She told Him that He was making her feel WORTHLESS. When she wrapped her arms around my neck sobbing and screamed “I thought you LOVED me!” at God, it wrenched me. Exhausted from the screaming, she broke down again, sobbing, telling God she was sorry. That she loved him. That she would always love him. No matter what.
This had nothing to do with being disappointed about not getting the part of Belle.
Sure, she was sad and disappointed she didn’t get the role she was going for, but that’s happened before. She played an eel in Little Mermaid – and you know she didn’t go into the audition wanting that part. She was heartbroken when she didn’t get the part of Ti Moune in Once Upon this Island – she wanted that part so bad she became the secret, silent understudy because she wanted to be ready in case the lead couldn’t perform for any reason at all. And less than a year ago, she auditioned for Annie – the role every little actress dreams about – and the part went to her best friend.
She wasn’t just sad and disappointed about not getting a part. If only it were that simple. This was a full blown identity crisis. I looked it up:
identity crisis (noun) A period of uncertainty and confusion in which a person’s sense of identity becomes insecure, typically due to a change in their expected aims or role in society.
Here it was, two months after her 11th birthday, and she was convinced her dream of a career in theater was being taken from her. And of course, GOD was doing the taking. If she wasn’t an actress or a singer, who was she?
Sitting in the parking lot, I knew she wouldn’t be able to hear me until she had had it out with God. I didn’t stop her from screaming at Him. I didn’t reprimand her for talking to Him like that.
God can take it.
I waited. I held her. I stroked her hair. Kissed her forehead. I prayed that God would give me the words to say and that I would know the right time to say them. Suddenly, she seemed to literally run out of tears and – no surprise – she had a terrible headache. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was pale. Her blood sugar was bottomed out and she needed to eat something. There was a Chick-Fil-A in the parking lot so I went through the drive-thru and parked again.
As we sat in the van and ate, she was quiet. Still crying, but quiet. I took a chance that she could hear me, and I decided to approach the smaller issue of Belle first, before I even tried to talk to her about her belief that it meant she wasn’t as good as she thought she was. I was hoping that if I could lessen the significance of the trigger event, the resulting blow to her self-confidence would be softened at the same time.
I told her I didn’t understand why God allowed this to happen. I said that when we face a trial, sometimes God shows us why right away, sometimes he shows us why much later and sometimes, we never get to know why.
Me: “Do you know what just happened with Aunt Wendy’s (my sister) teaching job??
PinkGirl: “no.”
Me: “You know she works at a bank 3 days a week, but about a year ago, she got hired as a college instructor to teach on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But the kind of teaching job she got wasn’t the kind where you just get hired and you keep the job until you leave or get fired. For this job, she got a contract to teach for one semester and then when that was finished, she got another contract to teach for another semester. You know what happened this semester?”
(negative head shake.)
Me: “She didn’t get a contract. They didn’t even call her to tell her they weren’t going to give her another contract. She was confused and hurt and upset and very worried about how they could pay their bills when she found out. Now she only has work 3 days a week. She couldn’t understand why God would allow this to happen. Then you know what happened?
(another negative head shake.)
Me: “CutiePie (my 1 year old nephew) got very, very sick. And Aunt Wendy didn’t have to leave him and go to work. She got to stay with him and take care of him most of the time he was sick. She posted a picture of him on facebook, sleeping after he was feeling better and you know what my comment was?
(another negative head shake.) “So thankful you didn’t have to teach today. God works in mysterious ways.”
(smile and tiny laugh)
I asked her if she was ready to talk about why God might have allowed this to happen in her life. Even though we can’t see the world from God’s point of view, what reasons could we think of from our limited perspective as humans?
PinkGirl: I think it’s a test.
Me: “What kind of test?”
PinkGirl, welling up again: “To see if I would love God no matter what.”
(From the moment she found out she was auditioning for Beauty and the Beast she had been praying and telling God she would love Him no matter what part she got and that whatever part that was, she would do her very best. Her dad and I prayed that prayer again with her the night before call backs and I prayed it again with her in the car on the way to call backs.)
Me: You may be right. Could it be another kind of test?
PinkGirl: “Like what?”
Me: “Could it be that God is helping you figure out if you really love theater as much as you say you do? Because, this will definitely happen again. More than once. You will want some other part and you won’t get it. And in some cases, you won’t even get a smaller role in the show you audition for. In some cases, you won’t get any role. You will probably NOT get the parts you want more often than you WILL get the parts you want.
(silent tears on her waffle fries)
Me: “PinkGirl, I don’t lie. You know I tell you the truth. You are good at this. And as good as you already are, you have the potential to get even better. I’ve told you before that I believe you can make a very good living in theater your entire life if you just don’t quit. I mean it. But you have to figure out if you can handle the disappointments that come with the joy. Do you love doing theater – no matter what?
(silent tears again)
Me: “What about your witness? GreatTheaterCompany isn’t a Christian organization. Some of the people there know you are a Christian. You invite your castmates to pray with you before shows. How can you be part of God’s story? Because HIS story is so much bigger and better than Beauty and the Beast. We need to start praying and asking God how He can use you to work all things for good.
(the tears stopped. I had her attention.)
Me: “Do you remember the story I told you about the Princess Tapestry?
PinkGirl, crying again: “Is this a dark thread?”
Me: “I think it’s pretty safe to say it is. Do you trust that God knows what he’s doing and that this dark thread will help make the tapestry beautiful? Even if you don’t get to see it until you see Him face to face?
(positive head shake with the tears again. I got another hug.)
(to be continued)
(this was written with PinkGirl’s permission)
Dear PinkGirl: don’t copy me.
There’s a certain person in my daughter’s life, who if she allows it, erodes her joy. I’ll call her TheBully. Without getting into detail, I’ll just say that her behavior toward PinkGirl is often passive-aggressive. Every day after school, PinkGirl tells me what TheBully did that day. And every day, PinkGirl and I talk about how she might handle her interactions with TheBully. I’ve encouraged her to include TheBully in her prayers.
I’ve asked PinkGirl to consider that there might be things in TheBully’s life that we aren’t aware of that make her unhappy and her unhappiness might be why she acts the way she does. I’ve explained that some unhappy people try to make themselves feel better by making other people unhappy too. They don’t know they’re doing it and while it really doesn’t make them feel any happier, it does make them feel less alone. I’ve called to her attention that TheBully is also unkind to other people and I’ve tried to help PinkGirl understand that she shouldn’t take it personally.
But I’ve also told PinkGirl that even if all those things are true, it doesn’t give TheBully the right to act the way she does.
It’s not okay.
PinkGirl and I talk about it at length and every day, I conclude by saying that I believe it’s possible for her to stand firm and not let TheBully control her actions. Every day, I tell PinkGirl that it’s possible to tell the truth – even truth that might hurt someone’s feelings – using gracious words. PinkGirl remains steadfastly unconvinced and consistently counters that TheBully will “tell lies” about her to “everybody.” “Everybody” will be mad at her. and she will get into big trouble with the teachers.
Every day, I tell PinkGirl that’s not true. And every day, she tell’s me I don’t understand and that I’m wrong.
The freakish optimist in me gets so exasperated with her. How can my daughter be such a pessimist?
And then I get smacked in the face with a little empathy.
There’s a certain person in my life, who, if I allow her, erodes my joy. I’ll call her Narcissa. Without getting into detail, I’ll just say that her behavior toward me is often passive-aggressive. After a few years of praying about – and relentlessly lamenting to my husband about – these interactions and countless discussions with him about why God is allowing this person in my life and what I’m supposed to do and say to her with the love of Christ, I finally . . . blocked her out. Literally and figuratively.
I’ve spent the last few months flat-lined against the messages in her body language, her wounded facial expressions and the disgruntled and sarcastic mumbling. And flat-line has been working for me.
somewhat.
Recently, the passive aggressive behavior morphed into a face to face, non-ignorable conversation. Skilled communicator that I am, I couldn’t think of one thing to say that fell in line with God’s command to speak in love. The words of the great philosopher, Thumper the bunny, kept echoing in my mind: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothing at all.”
So I stood there, speechless.
A few days later, a colleague/friend, who had witnessed the encounter, brought it up. My first response was to assure her that it was okay and to explain that, by the grace of God, I was in a place that Narcissa’s behavior didn’t bother me and that my focus was on my work.
But then my friend, a fellow Christian, said, “It’s just been weighing heavy on my heart.”
oh.
I’m not in a place where I can simply block her out. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that God has used her in other situations in my life to point out things I couldn’t or wouldn’t see. As I listened to her explain how Narcissa’s behavior was affecting her, I silently prayed that God would give me the right words to say. My initial thought was to sooth her soul, to help her accept the behavior of the person who was causing her so much heartache. Not once did I consider the possibility that the issue could be resolved. When my friend mentioned speaking with Narcissa about all this, my immediate reaction was, “ohhhhh, nooooo. That would not be a good idea.”
As she persistently brought up possibilities of addressing the problem, one by one, I shot them down: Can’t do it. Never gonna happen. There’s no situation in which that would turn out well. The fall out would be too far reaching.
The next day, alone, I thought: Who was that? I’m freakishly optimistic. I believe “can’t” is a four letter word. My mantra is “Just because I haven’t thought of an answer doesn’t mean there isn’t one. I just haven’t figured it out yet.”
What kind of power does this person have over me that I would abandon such a core characteristic? What kind of power does she have over other people? What kind of power does she have?
and what kind of example am I setting for my daughter? I had to fess up.
In the car ride home from school,
I said: “So, I had an epiphany. Do you know what that is?”
PinkGirl: “no.”
Me: “It’s a realization. I realized something today. You know how every day you tell me what TheBully did and I tell you that you need to stand firm and not let her control your actions? How you need to talk to her and tell her the truth using gracious words – even if it will hurt her feelings? And how every day, you tell me that you can’t do that because she will tell everyone lies and the teachers will get you in trouble and everyone will be mad at you …
PinkGirl: “Well not my real friends.”
Me: “True. But am I getting all this right? Am I leaving anything out?
PinkGirl: “No. That’s pretty much it.”
Me: “I realized I’m doing the same thing you are. Who’s TheBully in my life?”
PinkGirl, quick as a flash: “Narcissa.”
Me: “yep. I realized that I’m expecting you to do something I’m not willing to do myself. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for getting so frustrated with you when you refuse to try and work out your problems with TheBully.”
So. Now I either have to start coaching PinkGirl about how to physically and emotionally distance herself from TheBully or I have to refocus my efforts on preventing Narcissa’s passive-aggressive behavior from negatively impacting my thoughts and actions.
If you read my last post, I should probably steer clear of Narcissa for a while. Because right this minute, emotions are not a factor in my decision-making and communication. I could easily, objectively and thoroughly tell Narcissa the truth and be completely unaffected by ANY reaction she has.
Unfortunately, because there are other people involved who would be negatively impacted by the repercussions of an honest conversation with Narcissa, I think my best course of action is to keep praying the prayer I’ve been praying for years: “Lord, if you won’t change my circumstances, please change my attitude.” If I want to shake the Hypocrite Certificate, I think I need to teach PinkGirl that same prayer. And how to physically and emotionally duck and weave to stay out of TheBully’s line of sight.
CLICK HERE to see other posts I’ve written about dealing with emotional bullies, narcissists and passive-aggressive people.
God gave her to me on purpose.
PinkGirl spent nearly an HOUR crying last night. About E.V.E.R.Y.thing. She went from one problem to the next, never stopping, sometimes overlapping. When, between tragedies, I suggested that she might be exhausted, she said,
“Mom, sometimes I just need to exhale all my emotions.”
God gave her to me on purpose.
I’m so thankful she’s so self-aware and articulate.
During PinkGirl’s uncontrollable tearfest, one of the many, many things she was crying about:
“and technology is going to replace books!!!! (weepy hiccups) That’s why Borders closed. People are going to stop buying books and everybody’s just gonna have Kindles!!! (each syllable in the word Kindle lasted about 10 full seconds – more weeping).
Me: “Hey, now that’s not true. What did I get in the mail JUST TODAY?”
PinkGirl: “boookssss” (pause for more hiccups) “But, how did you order them?”
I feel the need to spend some time at (a brick and mortar) BAM.
#ilovemydaughter
Like this:
logic says: memory tricks should not have dependant tasks.
Me, to FavoriteSon: “It’s the World Series. You and your dad are supposed to keep me up to date on sports so I don’t look like a rube. I know about March Madness, I know the Superbowl is in February, I know the NBA playoffs are…
FavoriteSon, Interrupting: “Not happening this year.”
Later . . .
Me, to FirstHusband: “It’s the World Series. You and your son are supposed to keep me up to date on sports so I don’t look like a rube.
FirstHusband: “You know who Reggie Jackson is?”
Me: “yeh.”
FirstHusband: “Do you know what his nickname was?”
Me: “no.”
FirstHusband: “Mr. October – because he always played so great in October. That’s how I remember when the World Series is.”
Me: “Your memory trick has a dependent task.”
FirstHusband: “It’s easy.”
Me: “For you. You already know that Reggie Jackson’s nickname is Mr. October. I have to remember that before I will remember that the World Series is in October.”
FirstHusband: (sigh)
Me: “what?”
I’d REALLY like to say I don’t know where he gets it.
The weather is beautiful! I made FavoriteSon go out into the backyard tonight and do NOTHING.
No electronics.
No distractions.
I told him he could talk to God or just listen, I didn’t care, but for FIVE minutes, I wanted him to sit outside with the wind in his face and look out over the pond behind our backyard and do NOTHING.
He came back in 10 minutes later and said:
“That just made me realize I need to mow the backyard.”
I’d REALLY like to say I don’t know where he gets it.
Like this:
fragments: F250, toxic levels of NO!, lunchbox, photo that never dies, business distraction, thinking chair, strep, grilled cheese & the learning curve of a cat.
August 29, 2011
(FirstHusband was out of town and my car needed to go into the shop.)
“I’ll be driving the Ford F250 this week, but in addition to the water it needs to be fed every day, FirstHubs says it needs oil. I’ll be dragging a step ladder out to do that because there is NO WAY I can reach while standing on the ground.”
(didn’t drive the F250. Called dibs on FavoriteSon’s car instead. I can just see it, a Ford F250 with the hood up, next to an empty stepladder – and my legs hanging out of the engine because I fell in)
__________
August 30, 2011
Dear Tuesday, August 30th: you have exceeded your daily limit of the word “no.”
__________
Did some new hire computer training today – I LOVE it when I can show someone how to make their job easier and their work more efficient – at the SAME time! Ultimately, it helps to lower their stress level, increase their job satisfaction and build their confidence. And I LOVE it when I train someone who’s enthusiastic about learning!
__________
August 31, 2011
I spy . . . a forgotten lunch box on the kitchen counter. dang it.
__________
I was supposed to get a new driver’s license Tuesday morning.
Text from FirstHusband in Utah: “Any luck on the driver’s license front?”
Me: “you. are. a. nag.”
1stHubs: “I waited more than 24 hours after you said you would be there. Besides, I’m waiting on something. I’m bored.”
Me: “Had to get PinkGirl to school 45 minutes early because we only had one car. This photo will follow me for 10 years.”
1stHubs: “What? I’m confident your natural beauty will shine through. You are being too modest.”
pshhh. He IS bored.
__________
Trying to write. I knew avoidance was imminent.
random word search on youtube: “business”
__________
I’m confident there is an answer to this problem. Just haven’t figured it out yet. If only I had $199. What? I said I was avoiding. I just shifted from youtube to ebay. (click HERE for the Thinking Chair eBay auction)
__________
September 1, 2011
FavoriteSon home from school today. His self-diagnosis? Strep. 11:30 appointment at the doctor to confirm.
FavoriteSon’s self-diagnosis is confirmed. He is “strep throat boy.” Now we try and prevent him from morphing into “CONTAGIOUS strep throat boy”
FavoriteSon: “Mom, will you make me a grilled cheese sandwich?”
Me: “It’s 9 o’clock at night. I bought you soup.”
FavSon: “You can’t eat soup without grilled cheese.”
Me: “yes you can. I’ve seen it done.”
FirstHusband, overhearing all this over the phone: “you don’t love your son enough to make him a grilled cheese sandwich?”
It’s a grilled cheese conspiracy.
10:21pm – I caved. he really is pitiful when he’s sick.
__________
September 2, 2011 at 1:07pm
Bob the Cat is dumber than dirt. I must have thrown him (gently) off my desk 30 times in the last hour and a half. Trying to get some work done and he’s seriously throwing off my groove!
1:16pm – 31
1:17pm – 32
Like this:
fragments: can’t. lazy bum. oil. p. muscle cars. tornadic activity. good times. intentional choices.
Here’s a few fragments of my week:
FavoriteSon vs. AP Lit.
FavSon: “I can’t.”
Me: “can’t is a four letter word.”
FavSon with a formal tone of voice and his signature grin: “I cannot.”
I have no idea where he gets it.
__________
Headed back to BodyInUnity yoga Monday morning (M-W-F at 9:15 am at First United Methodist Church of Oviedo in the youth room if you’re so inclined to join us)! I’m stiff and weak and flabby and reeking of lazy bum – all with no excuse! If I want do more than pay lip service to my commitment to be a good steward of this body God has blessed me with – it’s time to GET BACK TO WORK.
__________
Got a flashing oil light in the van today and drove straight to Auto Mech & Muffler. Turns out, that light is supposed to flash when you’re 6 months and 10,000 miles past your last oil change. oops.
(Since I’ve somehow become oblivious to the little reminder sticker they put on the top of the windshield, I just entered it in my phone calendar with an alarm.)
__________
FavoriteSon, doing pre-calc: “Dad, I know how to get ‘Q’ but can you help me get ‘P’?
Both FirstHusband and I answered: “drink water.”
FavSon groaned.
Me: “What? Did you not see that coming?“
FavSon: “I thought you were more mature than that.”
nope.
__________
FirstHusband texting me while on travel in Detroit: “I’m driving a Dodge Charger.”
Me: “Oh no you DID NOT just tell me that!”
(Those of you who are aware of my affinity for muscle cars: Dodge Charger = Dream Car.)
__________
10 year old PinkGirl: “Mom, there may be some tornadic activity on Friday.”
(She knows who Jim Cantore is too.)
__________
Target snack bar. PinkGirl talking about her day, seemingly without taking a breath while devouring breadsticks. Good times.
__________
Thursday night. 10:30pm. Too quiet downstairs. Called down to FavoriteSon and FirstHusband:
“Are both of you on task and making intentional choices?”
At the same time, I hear:
FirstHusband, (playing a videogame): “He is.”
FavoriteSon, (on the internet): “no.”
Do I know them or what?
Like this:
decision time. a loving mother’s straight-arm? or trust in God?
Then Esau looked up and saw the women and children. “Who are these with you?” he asked. Jacob answered, “They are the children God has graciously given your servant.”
Genesis 33:5
Every night, when my kids were infants, I would slip quietly into their room and lay my hand on their backs to make sure they were still breathing. Sometimes, when they were fussy and I was afraid my touch would wake them, I would silently position my finger in front of their nose to feel their breath.
Infants. Who am I kidding? I did it for years. I just needed the assurance that they were breathing before I could sleep.
Tell me I’m not the only parent who’s done this.
I realize that my actions had nothing to do with whether or not they took their next breath. I was just checking for my own peace of mind. Laying my hand on their back was not what prevented them from dying of SIDS or some other freakish undetected “one minute they’re breathing and another minute they’re not” disease.
The Lord, in His mercy and grace, allowed my children take each tiny breath. By His mercy and grace, he still allows them to take their next breath.
Why am I thinking about this now? My kids aren’t at risk for SIDS anymore. My daughter will be 11 years old this year. My son just turned 16.
16. Two weeks ago, my son got his driver’s license.
And there it is.
Am I ready for this change? Of course not. and YES. YES I AM!
The two weeks before he got his license were particularly challenging chauffeur weeks for me. My daughter had drama camp from 9am to noon every day and my son got a summer job with flexible hours. My husband’s travel and work schedule made me the “go-to” guy with the car keys. I was spending hours and hours each day in FavoriteSon’s car with only 20 to 30 minute breaks in between drop-offs and pick-ups. By Thursday of the 2nd week, I was DREADING the thought of sitting in a vehicle.
Thursday was also the day FavoriteSon got his driver’s license.
Friday morning, I got up and drove PinkGirl to drama camp. I arrived back home about 20 minutes before FavoriteSon had to leave for work.
Decision time. Do I ride shotgun with him, drive home, drive back to pick him up and ride shotgun while he drives home? Or do I let him make the single round trip all by himself?
but…
If I was WITH him he would be safe. If he drove by himself, he might get into an accident.
I know. I KNOW.
What was I going to do? Make him drive to work with my left arm stretched across the driver’s seat to protect him? Because THAT’S effective. Ummm hmmm. A loving mother’s straight-arm. More effective than a seat belt.
Just like a hand on his back.
I let him go. Literally. I didn’t even watch him drive away. Yes, I was ready for the break from driving, but more importantly, I was saturated with the knowledge that my presence in the vehicle with him had nothing to do with his safety. Not anymore. Our instruction and advice over the last year helped to prepare him, as did the two driver education courses he took. He was equipped for the responsibility. The State of Florida confirmed it by giving him legal permission to drive. All. by. himself.
His father and I still have so much more to prepare him for. But this? This we’ve prepared him for. This he’s ready for. Now, just like when he was a baby, his life is in God’s powerful and loving hands.
As hard as it is for me to comprehend, God loves my son more than I do.
Making safety the priority tells our children that we think God is incapable
of doing what He said He would do for His children . . . But when we put our confidence in God’s power
rather than the safety nets we place around our children we find that even children can learn to rely on God’s overwhelming presence to protect them as well as to enable them to flourish in the world system.
Tim Kimmel
Grace-Based Parenting
PinkGirl’s conundrum: curiosity vs. aversion to learning
Nothing like a new washing machine to make me feel compelled to clean my laundry room…
Last night:
I’m currently observing the “no helping, no complaining” rule of our household.
Round One: Two guys vs. an outgoing dead washing machine.
Round Two: Two guys vs. an incoming craigslist washing machine.
I just have two questions: Where’s my camcorder? and
Is AFV still on the air or is it just in reruns?
Later:
I decided to keep my distance lest I be recruited. I’m no dummy.
A little later:
PinkGirl, inspecting our “new” top load washer: “Mom, I don’t understand this. How does it work?”
Me: “oh, don’t worry, I’ll teach you!”
(I am SO glad to have a top load washer again! Now, when I need to throw in just one more thing, I can get the door open! and if someone accidentally washes an ipod, we can fish it out before it goes through the entire wash cycle while we stand helplessly by and watch it.)
Even later:
PinkGirl just opened the new top load washing machine to watch it spin and it came to a stop: “Mom, I still don’t get it. How does it actually CLEAN the clothes?”
Me: (it was 10:15pm for cryin out loud): “Ask your dad.”
PinkGirl, under her breath: “I really don’t want to hear ‘geek talk’ right now.”
This morning:
This morning PinkGirl asked me AGAIN how our new top load washer cleans the clothes.
Me: “you know, I got two comments on facebook suggesting you look it up yourself.”
PinkGirl: “I don’t wanna LEARN! It’s SUMMER!”
Me: “Then why are you asking questions?”
PinkGirl: “cuz I’m bored.”
Me: “oh, I can help you with THAT.”
#smartaleckkids
I couldn’t believe it, but PinkGirl voluntarily took a nap this afternoon!
Either “I WIN!” the “whoever wears out first, LOSES” game or she’s getting sick.
Either way, THANK YOU GOD, she really needed the rest – and I needed a tiny little bit of solitude.
I let PinkGirl get in a full 90 minute sleep cycle, making me 30 minutes late picking up FavoriteSon from work.
FavoriteSon, entering his time into the calendar: “hmmm. I stopped working at 2:40, but SOMEONE didn’t pick me up until 3pm.”
Me: “I brought you chicken alfredo and a Sport Illustrated, what, do you want me to bring you slippers too?”
FavSon: “now that you mention it…”
Like this:
worms & dirt. and I’m not talkin gummy & oreo.
Leftover worms and dirt in my fridge.
REAL worms. alive and wiggling. in black, muddy, crumbly dirt that is pushing itself up and out through the air holes on the lid as the worms wiggle around, presumably trying to escape.
gross.
When I was growing up, it never occurred to me that worms might live in my refrigerator.
FirstHusband and PinkGirl bought the worms today for fishing in the river behind our house this afternoon. They had a great time and thankfully came back with nothing because they threw back the fish they caught. I’m really glad they had fun. (I’m also glad they threw back the fish they caught.) I just wish they had used all their bait instead of putting their little friends in the fridge, along with our food.
gross.
I don’t like worms in my refrigerator. Some might call me a city girl, but that label doesn’t fit. I’m FIRMLY a suburban girl.
A suburban girl with a question: How long will I have to keep worms in my refrigerator before I can throw them out? What is the life expectancy of a worm?
I’m having a major childhood flashback.
PinkGirl.
That nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.
I just caught her reading in bed. 10 years old. 10:43pm on a school night. She’s just started reading The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Book 5)
Oh, I remember that. Except I used to hide under the blanket with a flashlight. She has a reading light clipped to a shelf next to her bed.
I understand. And while part of me is upset with her for still being awake, part of me is over the top THRILLED that she loves to read this much. She’s going to love reading her whole life.
Call me a bad mom. I don’t care. I said: “You may NOT be mean to me in the morning and you WILL get up EXACTLY when I ask you to. Get to a stopping point fast.”
11:02pm. I just heard the reading light being turned off.
chops, props and Gilligan’s Island
Conversations of 4 people crammed in a truck: (while my van was getting a new transmission)
Me: PinkGirl! We’re early today! Good job getting ready!
FavoriteSon: Still later than I wanted to leave.
Me: hey. Give your sister some chops.
FavoriteSon: Props.
Me: Really? Thought it was chops, what does props mean?
FavoriteSon: I don’t know.
I look at FirstHusband
FirstHusband: I don’t know either.
Me: YOU don’t know? You know all kinds of useless information. It isn’t buried in there somewhere along with the theme songs to Gilligan’s Island and the Brady Bunch?
FirstHusband: Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, A tale of a fateful trip…
A little Google search later reveals props stands for “proper respect.” That makes sense. Unlike “give chops.” Or the premise behind Gilligan’s Island for that matter. A three hour tour? really? They took a LOT of stuff on that tiny little boat for just three hours. It’s a wonder it didn’t sink.
a smack on the back of the head.
FirstHusband to me on the phone: “Your day has changed.”
Me: “How?”
FirstHusband: “You’re going to buy a book. The abridged ‘Count of Monte Cristo’”
Me: “Smack FavoriteSon on the back of the head for me.”
background noise: “HEY!”
FirstHusband, to FavoriteSon: “Just doing what your mom told me to.”
FavoriteSon: “oh.”
I HATE paying retail for a book! FavoriteSon’s known he needed this for a week. I could have gotten it used. online. And considering the entire sophomore class is supposed to bring this book to school tomorrow, I have a feeling it wouldn’t be easy finding it in stock in any brick and mortar store nearby.
Later, when I see FavoriteSon face to face at home…
Me, to FavoriteSon: “Do you get points if you bring this book to class tomorrow?”
FavoriteSon: “No. I have to read the first 9 chapters by tomorrow.”
Me: “Com’ere, so I can smack you on the back of the head.”
FavoriteSon: “No thank you.”
Then, PinkGirl said, “What about Kindle?”
FavoriteSon: “oh yeh! we’re allowed to do that!”
Me to FirstHusband, who was in reach of FavoriteSon: “Smack him again.”
FavoriteSon’s signature grin.
SMART GIRL! We all have ipod touch Kindle apps! $5.99 download. Done.
He better read those nine chapters, or…you guessed it. smack.
PinkGirl’s cartwheel God story.
PinkGirl has a God story – a story of how God weaved together a bunch of things in her life to bring her to a particular place. Here’s how it went:
1. Bye Bye Birdie – and we mean that literally. The performing arts studio that PinkGirl regularly participates in was supposed to be doing Bye Bye Birdie for their spring play. As it turns out, they didn’t get enough boys to audition and had to switch productions at the last minute. Like I said, bye bye Birdie. They’re doing two relatively unknown shows with a heavy emphasis on dancing.
Dancing is PinkGirl’s weakest link.
The rehearsals have been challenging for her but I’ve seen a lot of improvement the last few months. The hardest thing for her? She didn’t get a part she loved. Between the two plays, she’s: “whiny student,” a villager and a pile of snow. You read that right. A pile of snow. One of many. Every day parts were assigned and she didn’t get one, she asked “What is God doing in my life?” She always asks that question when things don’t go the way she hopes they will. I ask myself the same question when I’m faced with disappointment and obstacles. My answer to her is always the same one I tell myself: “I’m not sure, let’s try and figure out what you’re supposed to learn from this experience.” In this case, my strongest theory was that she needed to focus her attention on the dancing – learn as much as she can and strengthen her skills as much as possible. So she threw her energy at the choreography.
She had also signed up to sing special music at church. Singing as herself and not as a character in a play was a very new experience. Another challenge. I suggested that maybe that was another reason she didn’t get a big part in the plays.
2. Theater for kids, by kids. At this same performing arts company, a group of teenagers have started doing their own productions – interactive theater for children. The shows are on Saturdays at 3pm, an hour and a half after PinkGirl’s regular rehearsals which run from 9am to 1:30pm. I took her to see their production of The Princess and the Frog.
She LOVED it. But not just from the audience’s point of view. She wanted to participate. But these were teenagers. She’s only 10. Undaunted, she asked me to ask the owner of the company to ask the teenagers if they would consider allowing her to be in the next production. A few weeks later, we heard the answer. They were sorry, they would be doing The Emporer’s New Clothes and it just wouldn’t work out to use someone so young. Again with the question. “What is God doing in my life?” I don’t know, babe.
She threw herself back into play rehearsals and signed up to sing special music in church again.
3. The cartwheel. Last month, for the first time since I started recording, I needed someone to watch PinkGirl. Both her brother and father were in Jacksonville at a track meet and we weren’t comfortable leaving her at home alone from 4:30pm to 9:30pm while I was gone. She ended up going home with a friend after school and I picked her up at 9:30 after the session was over. Her friend had tumbling class that night from 6pm to 7pm so she got to go and watch.
For the next two days, she was obsessed with learning to do a cartwheel. Surprisingly, I can still do a cartwheel! Not surprisingly, I have no ability to teach someone else how to do a cartwheel. Subsequently, PinkGirl had no confidence in me and was too scared to throw her feet up in the air. Her cartwheels were not pretty to watch.
Long story short, She went to her first tumbling class last Friday night. And LOVED it.
4. The phone call. It’s spring break, FirstHusband is off for the week and we are on staycation. We’re supposed to go mini-golfing on Tuesday night. The phone rings and it’s the owner of the performing arts company. Would PinkGirl be able to play the part of the princess in The Emporer’s New Clothes? They had their first rehearsal the night before and they decided that PinkGirl would be perfect for the part of the princess. Was this an audition or does she actually have the part? This is it. She’s got the part if she wants it and can commit to the rehearsal and performance schedule. And there’s dancing in this show. Which she’s much better at than she was 3 months ago.
We didn’t go mini-golfing last night. PinkGirl was at rehearsal for The Emporer’s New Clothes. And nobody was upset about that. Especially PinkGirl.
5. The question. As PinkGirl was trying on costumes for The Emporer’s New Clothes, the director asked her, “Can you do a cartwheel?”
PinkGirl had an epiphany. THIS is what God was doing in her life! Preparing her for this! With a big grin, she answered: “Not yet, but I just started tumbling classes so I’ll be able to do one VERY SOON!
God can use anything to teach us faith and patience. Even a cartwheel.
And she’s singing “Pray” by Justine Bieber at all three services this Sunday.
handlebar or Groucho?
Background:
One of FavoriteSon’s most enjoyable pastimes is making jokes about my age.
One of my most enjoyable pastimes is making fun of the bare patches in his wannabe beard.
Me, talking about a new prescription cream for my face: “Supposedly, it will make me look more youthful.”
FavoriteSon: “Good luck with that.”
Me: “Handlebar or Groucho?”
FavoriteSon: “huh?”
Me: “What kind of Sharpie mustache do you want to see when you look in the mirror tomorrow morning, handlebar or Groucho?”
FavoriteSon: “Just fill it in right here” (motioning the middle of his upper lip)
Me: “No hitlers.”
FavoriteSon: “It’s not a hitler! It’s just filling in between what’s already there.”
Me: “You don’t have anything already there.”
handle it differently, please.
“handle it differently, please.”
This is one of my go-to phrases with my children, most often my daughter when she’s reacting to something that doesn’t go her way, whether it be a math problem, her brother’s advice on a video game, or a sock with an irritating toe seam.
But more and more, I’m finding myself wanting to plead with some adults: “handle it differently, please.”
While out shopping, I heard a mom tell her talkative toddler to “stop boring me. I don’t want to hear it.” My head shot up so fast I startled her. I think the look on my face (I should never play poker) told her how bad I felt for that little boy because she immediately backpedaled and started asking him questions about his day, what he did, who he played with . . .
While driving home from car line, most every morning I pass a mother and daughter walking to school. The mom is paces ahead, power walking. The daughter is runwalking to keep up, her heavy backpack slowing her down. I wish I could say I prayed for the mom to recognize what she was doing and decide to power walk on the way home, after her daughter was in school. But I didn’t. I judged her. I got upset with her. I decided she was being selfish and ignoring her daughter. Day after day, power walking while her daughter tried to keep up. Not taking advantage of what could be memory making daily walk-n-talks. I wanted to call out the window “YOU’RE MISSING IT!!! PAY ATTENTION!!!!” Then last week, an unexpected surprise – they were walking together, talking. And this time “Thank you, Lord.” came spilling out of my mouth. The next time I see them, I’m confident I will pray instead of judge. That the mom won’t let those precious, fleeting opportunities slip by even one more time.
Friday night, at a school carnival, my daughter is trying to win a goldfish by throwing a ping pong ball in bowls of water. She’s excited and I look at her and say “You better not win a fish. Don’t do it.” and she and I both know I’m teasing her. Not about the fact that I didn’t want a goldfish, because with a 55 gallon saltwater tank at home filled with half the cast of Finding Nemo, I did NOT want a goldfish. I was teasing her about winning one. She and I both knew that if she won a goldfish, I would deal with it. The fishbowl that was purchased to fill with blue jello and gummy fish would instead get filled up with water and we would have goldfish until . . . well until we didn’t have a goldfish. Ya know she won a goldfish – and promptly named it Donald.
Later, I was standing with two sisters, both moms of my daughter’s classmates. The boy excitedly approached his mom, wanting to try for a gold fish. She didn’t even look him in the eye as she said, in flat tone, “You bring a goldfish home and it’s going straight into the toilet.” His shoulder’s dropped. He heard what I heard: “If you bring home a pet fish, I will kill it.” He seemed to know she wouldn’t change her mind. He didn’t argue. Instead, he slipped away unnoticed as she continued talking to her friends. His cousin, a girl, approached her mom, goldfish in hand. The mom, sister to the first mom, said, “I’m not buying one thing for that fish. Not one thing.” The little girl started to argue, and I couldn’t listen, so I went to find my daughter. I judged and wimped out at the same time.
Why would these moms say these things? What is the big deal about a GOLDFISH? Put it in a glass. Buy fish food for a buck or two. Teach a kid how to take care of something smaller than them in a world where other people take care of them all the time. I found myself wondering what kind of home life these two women had growing up.
And I had a humbling epiphany. Some kids grow up to emulate their parents, some kids grow up fiercely determined not to emulate their parents. Doesn’t make me any better. Or any less damaged.
Doesn’t mean I make the right decisions when it comes to my kids either. Because, as I was standing, holding Donald the goldfish in a plastic bag, waiting for my kids to be bored with the carnival, a woman approached me. She wanted to buy the fish to give to a little girl who was crying because after trying and trying to toss a ping pong ball in a bowl of water, she still couldn’t win a goldfish – like her sister did. I found PinkGirl and explained the situation and asked her if she would consider giving her fish to the little girl, since she herself had Nemo and Marlin and Dory . . . PinkGirl reluctantly, but immediately said I could give away her goldfish. So I did.
Then.
PinkGirl had giver’s remorse. There were big crocodile tears and “I want DONALD back.”
oh. no.
There wasn’t any getting Donald back at that point. Donald was long gone with his new owner, a beaming little girl. Meanwhile, MY little girl was heartbroken. For the rest of the night, which thankfully, wasn’t but about an hour and a half, we snuggled. I wiped her tears. I stroked her hair and rubbed her back. I apologized again and again for giving away her fish. (even though I had permission.) I carried her partway to the car and then handed her over to her dad to carry her the rest of the way because I’m not as strong as I wish I was.
Then, the next morning, Saturday, she and I talked about it again and she told me she thought she did the right thing, but that she was still sad about it. By Sunday, she had forgotten all about Donald.
I wish I could say I’m not going to judge parents when I hear or see them say or do things that hurt their children. But my immediate identification with a child in one of these situations practically insures that I will. As an adult, I’m asking God to allow me to see the parent as wounded too, not just the child. I’m praying that I will stop – mid-judgment – and pray for that parent as well as that child.
I know how much I need prayer instead of judgment. I’ve got my own list of things I should handle differently.
this life lesson brought to you for the bargain price of $6.61.
“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.
Luke 16:10 (NIV)
FavoriteSon wants to buy a song, but it’s designated as “album only” meaning he can’t purchase the single, he would have to purchase the entire album to get one song. This fact makes him . . . unhappy. After the onslaught of “It’s not fair!” and “This is stupid.” he asked me if I would let him rip it from youtube. For free.
Me: “That would be illegal.”
FavoriteSon: “But I can’t buy it! You said we can get it from youtube when we can’t buy it!”
Me: “Yes, but in this case, you CAN buy it. You just can’t buy it under the circumstances that you prefer.”
FavoriteSon: “Do you know how many of my friends get music from youtube?”
Me, silent, with the face he knows so well. The one raised eyebrow, sustained eye contact face that says, you’re gonna get NOWHERE with this argument, cause we’ve long ago established that when presented with the “but my friends do it” argument, I. am. unmoved.
FavoriteSon: “Yeabut …” (let the whining and attempt to persuade begin)
I was getting ready to go into the sauna, so I tabled the conversation till I got out. Then I plucked a book off the shelf to take in with me: The Busy Mom’s Guide to Simple Living : Creative Ideas And Practical Ways for Making the Most Out of What You Have
I’m in frugality mode these days so I turn right to the chapter entitled: “Saving Money.” A few pages in and I find a reference to Luke 16:
“The words of Jesus at the end of this story are a powerful reminder of our responsibility with money. ‘”Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.’”
I get out of the sauna and before I hit the shower, I hand the book to FavoriteSon, pointing to this paragraph.
Me: “Read this while I’m in the shower and we’ll continue our conversation in a few minutes.”
He was ready for me when I get out.
FavortiteSon: “What if . . . I buy a song I DON’T WANT from the same band and then delete it. THEN can I get the song I really want from youtube?”
His father took this one: “Let’s say your sister wanted a particular Pokemon card and let’s say you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was in a larger package of cards that cost $10. There was a two pack of cards for 99 cents. What would you say if she asked to buy the two pack, but trade out to get the one card she really wanted . . . “
FavoriteSon: “That’s totally different!”
Me: “Why?”
FavoriteSon: silence.
Me: “Because it’s stealing?”
FavoriteSon: “That would be stealing, but this is different.”
Me: “Because it’s not a tangible item?”
FavoriteSon, not convincingly: “no”
Me: “Let me ask you this. How much is one song from this album?
FavoriteSon: “$1.39″
Me: “And how much is the entire album?”
FavoriteSon: “$8.00″
Me: “So all this is about $6.61?”
FavoriteSon: (silence)
Me: “seriously? $6.61. (pause) He who can be trusted with little . . . “
FavoriteSon: (the grin that comes with knowing his reasoning has a big ol gaping hole in it.)
this parenting thing, I’m tellin ya.
“The trite saying that honesty is the best policy has met with
the just criticism that honesty is not policy. The real honest man is
honest from conviction of what is right, not from policy.”
Robert E. Lee
Welcome! If you have time, peruse my topics & my “little known facts” page to see if we have anything in common, or find out what I do for fun & work by viewing my singing and speaking samples.
Feel free to steal my ideas, ponder my musings, disagree with my rants, jump on my bandwagon, read my favorite books, comment, email me, or just lurk. Whatever works for you.
Most Recent 10- everything matters.
- fragments of a Mother’s Day weekend.
- the foundation of my work ethic. “Would you like fries with that?”
- I don’t want to sing a solo.
- “Discovery Day” is right.
- Jesus said turn the other cheek. He didn’t say I had to stand within smack radius.
- Mythbusters question: Who packs a car better, a man or a woman?
- you see the big hat too . . . right?
- I’m going to stop being discouraged and be awesome instead. True Story.
- five minutes of crazy.
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Fitness Log: May
May Totals as of 5/21
HIIT Incline Miles: 4.5
HIIT Incline Minutes: 90
Strength Training/Yoga Days: 1
2 Min., 10 Sec. Planks: 3
Days Supplements Taken: 2
Fruit Servings: 2-
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