21 Days: Day 8 — LET’S GO BUCKS!

I have to write early because there’s a pretty important football game tonight, and preparing physically and mentally takes a lot of energy. Additionally, my husband is home and bouncing around the house like a little kid on Christmas, and that makes it hard to write. And finally, I have to take my mom to the doctor, which also requires preparation…

Apparently, the snow plow drivers are Buckeyes fans and were already preparing this morning; at least they weren’t plowing the snowy, slushy roads. It was a crappy drive to school so I used the time to give Peyton lots of useful tips about driving in the snow. It sounded a lot like, “See how close this a-hole behind me is? Don’t do that.” He won’t drive for another year, was half asleep and not a bit interested in my monologue, but it soothed me.

1. After three lazy snow days and a weekend, when that alarm sang out at 5 a.m., gratitude wasn’t my initial reaction. Ugh. Bed, Brad, kids, house, car with good tires and 4-wheel drive. I realize, as I’ve been writing about the blessings that my bed is nearly always first. It’s a good bed. Everyone who sleeps in it agrees. The kids love it. Our Florida besties love it. Brad does too. Once, after an extended out-of-town stay for work, as we snuggled in, he whispered “I missed you so much…”

“Me or the bed?” I giggled.

“Both of you.”

2. The good thing about having a husband who travels a lot is that you learn to do lots of things by yourself. That is also the bad thing. You have to because if you don’t do those things no one else will. I used to complain more, but I have a friend whose husband travels a lot as well, and she never complains. She just does stuff, asks someone else to do it, or doesn’t do it. She is one of my many role models. This morning, I dragged 3 garbage cans through 4 inches of heavy, wet snow and then drove P to school without thinking twice about it. I’m not bragging, just stating the facts. When I came home and told Brad that the roads were bad, he said, “Why didn’t you wake me up to take him?” I didn’t think of it because it isn’t usually an option.

I’ve always wanted Brad to take charge of some certain traditional gender role tasks. Take the garbage out. Handle car maintenance. Clean the gutters. You know. But, a funny thing happens sometimes when you’re waiting for someone to take care of you: You learn to take care of yourself. But today, watching my husband who is a) home and b) not only fixing my leaky sink but also replacing the faucet which has been leaking for years, I am almost overwhelmed with glee. When he was home every day, I probably would have been worn out from asking him to fix that sink. My reaction would have been more, “It’s about damn time,” and less, “Look at him! He’s fixing the sink AND the faucet. He’s an angel boy!” Changing circumstances sure can shift your perspective; I see that today with amazing clarity. 

3. Writing daily Thank You notes is teaching me that there are always people to thank. The smallest act of kindness can shift your mood and change your whole outlook. It’s a good reminder that we can and do make a difference.

In Small Victories, Anne Lamott, in a quandary over political and military situations questions her friend, a Jesuit priest, how to help, and he advises: “You take care of the suffering,” reminding her that there are people suffering everywhere. Sometimes we get so caught up in our helplessness on a grand scale that we miss a million little opportunities right in front of us. We forget to smile and hold the door because we’re focused on our destination. We walk past a person picking up their dropped groceries caught up in fussing about what great things we could do instead of grocery shopping. (Or maybe it’s because we’re worried it’s a ploy to rob us because of that email we just read.) We can’t be bothered to pick up a frazzled mom’s change clanging on the dirty Walmart floor as she wrestles her wriggling toddler into the cart because we are waiting for our big break. We’re waiting for God to show us our purpose. That’s the thing though: These little things are our purpose. Slow down, look up, pay attention, love, serve…

Don’t miss out on the beauty of the life you have because you’re waiting for the life you want.

This is gonna be a rough Daniel Fast day. Buckeye parties mean beer, more beer and delicious food that is not fast-approved. I’m going to eat sweet potato and black bean soup, which is delicious even if it’s not pizza or 7-layer Mexican dip. I think I’ll also wear blinders and a nose plug. But I’m already telling you: I’m gonna drink beer.

How’s your Monday? Two of my fellow fasters text me to celebrate their 3 and 1 pound weight losses. I blocked their numbers. I’m kidding… I’ll celebrate with you when you rub my nose in your weight loss, you beeyotches. I’m currently +2. Wooo Hoo.

xoxo

Losing my mind in 4,3,2,1…

I rarely take things for granted. Kindness, goodness, blessings, and the people attached to those sentiments overwhelm me with gratitude. You know that picture circulating on social media, “What if you woke up tomorrow with only what you thanked God for last night”? I’d be solid. I thank Him constantly for the wonderful miracles in my life.

As you’ve probably guessed, that intro is leading up to what I do take for granted. Well, it’s not a what. It’s a who. Ugh…I hate admitting this, but I take my husband for granted sometimes.

Usually when I realize I am doing or have done so, I apologize immediately, write him long, appreciative letters, and make him feel extra loved. And honestly, he’s stereotypically guyish and not super in touch with his emotions, so he doesn’t sitting around whining that he’s not appreciated.

And, he asks for very little. Mostly. Last week, he started a new job and text me 37 million times as I’m the keeper of all important personal information–even his. But as far as emotional support, the scale is definitely shifted in my favor.

I’m a basket case 25-95% of the time depending on what’s going on in our life. A messy house, squabbling kids, writer’s block, or any variety of issues might send me spiraling into a panic. He talks me off proverbial ledges. Unless the ledges are work related, then my boss/friend talks me down–she is my work husband. Also, occasionally, he puts me on the ledge, and for those instances I am fortunate to have the most amazing girlfriends who pull me back in. I don’t spend as much of my life on the edge of sanity as this implies, but there are moments…or weeks.

This is of one of those weeks. I’m very excited for our daughter who will be leaving for an adventure in Brazil on Friday. I’m also a little nervous that our daughter will be leaving for an adventure in Brazil on Friday because I won’t be able to talk to her for two weeks. I have immense faith and am beyond thrilled that she will have this amazing experience, but I’m also her mama. To outsiders, a beautiful, accomplished, bright and eager 20-year-old will be boarding a plane with her professor and classmates, but in my eyes, that person is a tiny blonde baby who was sleeping on my shoulder with my hair twisted around her finger…just a minute ago.

Consequently, I’m a little anxious and when I’m anxious, my person is always next to me, holding my hand, rubbing his thumb along my thumb, twirling my hair, patting my back, and catching me (figuratively and literally on occasion). When we put this same child on the bus to kindergarten 15 years ago, he stood behind me waving and whispering into my hair, “Don’t cry, baby,” until this bus was down the road and our baby girl was out of sight and then caught me up in his arms laughing, “Okay, you can cry now.”

When I put her on this plane, he will be in another state, so I can’t fall apart. He’ll listen to me cry the whole way home, but it won’t be the same as depositing mascara all over the front of his shirt.

So, I’m anxious, and I would appreciate if you guys could (as my dear friend said one time,) “say a prayer or light a candle or do whatever it is you do” for us on Friday as my heart is scattered all over the world.

Heart Hiccups

So, I’ve had a whole bunch of time on my hands the last few weeks fasting Facebook and being unemployed. I’ve spent a great deal of it writing, reading and doing yoga, so I’ll be smarter and more flexible by the time I “see” most of you again.

Well, I may not be smarter, but I can hold crow for about 5 breaths, and I have an increased sense calmness and peace. Evidently, just reading other people’s drama profoundly affected my peace of mind.

And I am still not an intellectual, but I’ve learned that I can dust, sweep, mop, clean toilets, the whole housecleaning shebang in about two hours when I don’t stop to read notifications every five minutes.

I have watched some really good moves. You know, actually watched them–not the whole listen as you scroll and occasionally look up, and:
“Hahaha, did you see that?”
“No, I missed it.”
“Wait…rewind!”
Is that just our house?

Although it all ready annoyed me, it’s been reinforced how irritating it is to hang out with someone who looks at their phone constantly. At Christmas, I took a picture of my family seated around the kitchen table talking while everyone stared at their phones (Lily was looking at an ipod) and then had a big-time tantrum about it. IS EYE CONTACT TOO MUCH TO HOPE FOR? I think they put their phones down for about 30 seconds.

While, all of this is pretty minor and stuff I mostly knew (except crow, I couldn’t do that before without falling on my head) and I’m sorry for missed opportunities to share love, prayer, and encouraging words–I do pray for my FB people every day. Here’s my main lesson: Sometimes by sharing, we divide our blessings. There have been so many cute things Lily said or did. So many funny P’isms. Chloe accomplishments. Witty Brad comments. So many missed tweets and Facebook posts. But every one I didn’t share stayed in my heart much longer.

Sunday, I was talking to one of my little mamas-to-be at church and sharing how I felt a little sense of sadness when my kids were born that I had to share them with the world. Their little kicks and movements were no longer mine alone. Everyone got to hold them and love them and feel their stretches and hiccups, and yes that is wonderful and amazing. But for nine months that had been just mine.

That’s kind of how I’ve felt about all the cute pictures, funny sayings, and sweet comments the past few weeks. Because I haven’t shared them, they’ve blessed me so much more–they’re just hiccuping in my heart.

I haven’t become some incredibly self-absorbed person. Not at all. I feel like I went to the eye doctor and when the lens flipped my life came into sharper focus. I’ve missed a lot by being so plugged in, and I don’t intend to miss any more. I’ll be happy to see my FB friends again, since most of them I don’t get to see in every day life, but I will cherish the parts of my life that are just mine.

It’s your party; you can cry if you want to.

On Wednesday night, I had a much needed therapeutic intervention in the form of card night with a couple girlfriends. We used to have card nights more frequently, but life gets busy, and sometimes we get so busy scheduling all the things that make us crazy we forget to schedule the things that make us happy. Card night makes me happy. Time with my friends centers me.

I’ve been on this roller coaster of forgiveness and offense the past few weeks. This week I got a reprieve. God placed some wonderful people in my path to remind me that yes, there are unkind people in my life, but I am overwhelmingly blessed by so many people with amazing hearts and beautiful spirits, who inspire me every day.

Some of these people I don’t interact with daily. Some of them I only know through social media. Some are really in my life, and I’m remiss if they don’t all ready know who they are and how much I adore them.

I felt compelled to share this because a shift in perspective reminded me that good attracts more good. When we focus on giving, loving, encouraging, and blessing others, sweetly unexpected blessings come back to us.

This week, virtual strangers poured out kindness on my family. If I hadn’t spent the last week or two analyzing flawed and toxic relationships, I don’t know if I would have appreciated such sweet gestures as much as I do today. When we are trudging through dark memories, it is hard to see the light. More than a few times, I have told my darling husband, who patiently reminds me of all our blessings, “I don’t want to see a silver lining right now; I just want to cry.”

And it is okay to cry. Sometimes, even in the midst of a million blessings, I let sadness creep in and derail me. Yes, I have three beautiful amazing kids; also, I have two dead brothers who didn’t get to know them. And even though my dad lived for 94 years, he’s not alive now, and I miss him. And while most of the time, I am positive and focus on the amazing life God gave me, I remind myself it’s okay to be sad because remembering the sadness makes the sweet moments even sweeter.

When Chloe was first in college, she was having a rough day, and I was trying to cheer her up. She said, “It’s okay, Mama. It’s just a bad day in a really good life.” My baby girl is so wise.

Please don’t let me screw them up.

I overthink nearly every aspect of my life–mostly my mothering. It’s overwhelming and scary to have the ability to screw up three wonderful people God has placed in my really incapable hands. People have commented favorably on mine and Chloe’s relationship. And that both humbles and amazes me. I can’t take credit for our relationship; it is “but for the grace of God.” I mean, my whole life is, but Chloe who transitioned from my treasured baby to my very best friend; well, she is just a brilliant shining example of God’s grace in my life.

So brilliant that if I could hang up my mothering hat when she went to college, Brad Bell and I could exchange high fives and begin redecorating our empty nest. Alas, there are these other two children whose lives I can still potentially ruin.

I will readily admit, that I think I’m a better girl mom. I like to shop and do makeup and girly stuff. I don’t dislike sports, but I will pick Cosmo over Sports Illustrated any day, and unless the Buckeyes are playing, I’m probably reading rather than watching the game. But, I love my son very much. So much so that in this awkward tween phase where he doesn’t cuddle as much or share as many secrets or kiss me on the face anymore, sometimes I sneak into his room a few minutes before he has to get up just so I can snuggle with him and kiss his head. I guess that’s kind of a creepy stalker move, but I do it anyway. 

It’s just that we don’t enjoy a lot of the same things. I treasure our shared interests and am always trying to cultivate more. I love watching him play every sport, but if he had to choose someone to hang with, it would be Daddy. And that’s okay. Brad is a really good dad, and in many ways, he gets to be the kind of dad to P that he always wanted. Plus, sometimes they are each other’s only refuge in this house full of hormones and hairspray.

Then there’s Lily. If I’m gonna screw up any of them, it will be her. She is so much like me it is simultaneously amazing and infuriating. I cannot point out one of her flaws without reprimanding myself in the same breath. I mean, I do, but to be fair and honest, I have to put myself in check at the same time because she learned each bad behavior somewhere, and Brad rarely screams and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him throw a tantrum.

Still, there she is, the baby that I didn’t want (we planned for two kids: one boy and one girl) and never expected–the child who pushes me to the edge of sanity on a daily basis. She has taught me more about myself in six short years than I learned in nearly 40 on my own.

So as I ponder 2012’s blessings and trials, I think about what each of these children taught me. Chloe taught me unconditional love. You know, the kind of love you don’t even realize you are capable of feeling until your whole heart has been pulled from your body and is curled up on your chest. She inspires me not only to be a better mother, but also to be a better person, as I pray to live up to the image she has of me. P taught me joy, and he delights me on a daily basis with his sweet spirit and caring compassionate heart. I pray we raise him into a great man, husband, and father. Lily has taught me to let go of my plans and give in to God’s will. She is full of fire and passion, and I pray I can guide her to use her powers for good rather than evil.

I pray every day to be the mom each of them needs. I pray that God helps me guide them in the direction He has planned for their lives. I pray that I don’t saddle them with any of my own insecurities and flaws and shortcomings. I pray that I don’t screw them up.