The imperfect tree is ready to be taken down. It was nice to have the real thing for once but next year we will have an artificial tree. The stress of whether another ornament will fall, worrying if it needs more water, and today's exercise of taking down those dang lights is just not worth me doing again.
Judge me if you want, I don't care anymore- I am an adult. This is new declaration for me. I am a college graduate, a married woman, heck I birthed two beautiful children but still somehow did not feel grown up. Despite being in my late thirties, I still feel like a kid inside who likes to be taken care of, have mom cook my dinner and not mind if I skip the dishes one night. My husband endures this immaturity just as I accept his. I think few people my age feel as old as we really are.
I cooked my first full Christmas meal with no help earlier this week. No help at all, by choice. I did not grow up in the "teamwork" decade. Not everyone got a trophy on my soccer team. The dinner was awesome. I earned my "Good Housekeeping" seal and shocked my husband with my culinary skills all at once. Good day.
As I stood in my kitchen trying to time the baking of the green bean casserole, the stuffing, the ham, turkey and glazed carrots just right I had never felt as "adult"as I did in that moment. I was a mom telling her kids to stop running around, a wife asking my husband to take our little angels to the park, a daughter in law smiling at the regular check-ins of my well intentioned mother in law and just like that I accepted my adulthood.
The days following that moment have kept the adult moments rolling in..... a broken down care, expense for a six year old's oral surgery, acting like a shut in because it is too damn cold for anything else. Life as an adult is a little exhausting so this weekend I am doing what many women do when a break is needed, I am going to see my mom.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Bravery comes in all forms
Bravery takes on all different forms throughout one's day. Today bravery showed itself in a pink tee shirt embellished with sequins and carried a well loved ol' bear named Teddy.
E went to the dentist to get her teeth cleaned and address what I believe to be her first cavity. She was not excited and expressed outright fear a few times. My heart chipped off a little piece when I saw her so scared.
Last night I discovered I may have been the only mom in my little circle of neighborhood friends to have talked to E about the Connecticut shootings. She knows a man with a sick mind killed some little kids who as she put it, "could have all been my friends." She did not show fear over that news but did when I told her we were going to the dentist. Oh to be a kid again..
This morning I asked her to brush her teeth and she froze. You could literally see the moment she remembered where we were going pass through her brain. Her up up-curled, smiling lips (inappropriately slathered in a purple lip gloss that needed to be removed) went straight and then there was silence. More silence. In one sudden moment, she ran up stairs more excited than I thought she should be to do such a mundane task. Minutes later she came back down with unbrushed teeth but a huge smile holding her beloved Bear. "I'll take Bear to be brave today." I responded with, "whatever it takes," and gave a big smile followed with, "now go brush your teeth".
Bear sat comfortably in her backpack during school this morning and she pulled him out as I parked the car at the dentist. I did not say anything and neither did she. We entered the lobby and Bear sat next to me in a chair while E played in the lobby filled with video games and toys. The nurse (or a lady wearing scrubs) came out and called E's name. She was sitting on the floor, playing with the Barbie toy and looked up at me. She took one deep breath as she got up, grabbed Bear out of his seat and stopped to hug me.
I waited for the pleading for me to come back with her. I waited for the long look as she walked to hand the woman's head. To my surprise neither came. E looked down at Teddy and said, "here we go". And away she went.
Some days we do not need a hero we just need a little bravery to remind ourselves that heroes exist.
I have that for the moment. Lets just hope this bravery thing carries us through her hearing she has to get a cavity filled. yikes!
Last night I discovered I may have been the only mom in my little circle of neighborhood friends to have talked to E about the Connecticut shootings. She knows a man with a sick mind killed some little kids who as she put it, "could have all been my friends." She did not show fear over that news but did when I told her we were going to the dentist. Oh to be a kid again..
This morning I asked her to brush her teeth and she froze. You could literally see the moment she remembered where we were going pass through her brain. Her up up-curled, smiling lips (inappropriately slathered in a purple lip gloss that needed to be removed) went straight and then there was silence. More silence. In one sudden moment, she ran up stairs more excited than I thought she should be to do such a mundane task. Minutes later she came back down with unbrushed teeth but a huge smile holding her beloved Bear. "I'll take Bear to be brave today." I responded with, "whatever it takes," and gave a big smile followed with, "now go brush your teeth".
Bear sat comfortably in her backpack during school this morning and she pulled him out as I parked the car at the dentist. I did not say anything and neither did she. We entered the lobby and Bear sat next to me in a chair while E played in the lobby filled with video games and toys. The nurse (or a lady wearing scrubs) came out and called E's name. She was sitting on the floor, playing with the Barbie toy and looked up at me. She took one deep breath as she got up, grabbed Bear out of his seat and stopped to hug me.
I waited for the pleading for me to come back with her. I waited for the long look as she walked to hand the woman's head. To my surprise neither came. E looked down at Teddy and said, "here we go". And away she went.
Some days we do not need a hero we just need a little bravery to remind ourselves that heroes exist.
I have that for the moment. Lets just hope this bravery thing carries us through her hearing she has to get a cavity filled. yikes!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Pray, Pray and Pray some more
Let's get one thing straight. God did not allow the Connecticut shootings. Satan did this using a living, breathing creation of God. His creation gave into evil, sin and darkness. It was God's creation who gave into this darkness and it was he holding Satan's hand that shot and killed those innocent adults and those babies.
It is too easy for us to blame the guns. That is just too easy. I refuse to take the easy way through this grief. The blame lies at Satan's feet and solely at his feet. I refuse to let him off the hook and blame a stupid piece of metal. Satan moved into the weak mind of one of God's weakest creations and created this massacre. If guns were not available he would have chosen another method of destruction. He does it everyday through greed, drugs, addiction, gluttony, insert your favorite sin here....
Removing the second amendment will not stop this nonsense. Legal or illegal someone wanting a gun will find a gun. Pray. Pray. Pray some more and then keep praying. I am praying for the Lord's peace to wrap itself around our country and our world in addition to the families of the innocents. The deaths are being felt far outside the boundaries that rural Connecticut town. Hearts are breaking around this country and our world.
We must come together together and ask for the strength of Lord's love that will deliver us from this tragedy. That's right, we ask for the Lord's grace to see us through and receive the blessings of peace and strength He will surely give. If it sounds too easy, I offer this: when I need grace, strength and love to fill my heart I usually need it right then and so I ask for it. The Lord listens and responds. We are not meant to jump through hoops to receive the blessings He wants to bestow on his believers. He is eager to give them, we have to only ask. It is that simple. He did the hard work for us long before we arrived in His universe so it would be that simple. Just accept it, shut up and pray.
Pray for the teachers, the community, the parents, the siblings, the administrators all of who will wonder if they did enough today. They did. Pray for our country that will further be politically divided on the issue of gun control. We most definitely will. Pray for the parents across the globe who are hurting on behalf the parents who lost their children today whether they were an adult or a small child. We all are.
Pray for the unbelievers of this world who will do all they can to shift the focus away from the evil of Satan and cloud the issue with minutia. The media is included in that need for prayer.
Just stop and pray. Hug your babies, then pray with them.
May God bless us all.
It is too easy for us to blame the guns. That is just too easy. I refuse to take the easy way through this grief. The blame lies at Satan's feet and solely at his feet. I refuse to let him off the hook and blame a stupid piece of metal. Satan moved into the weak mind of one of God's weakest creations and created this massacre. If guns were not available he would have chosen another method of destruction. He does it everyday through greed, drugs, addiction, gluttony, insert your favorite sin here....
Removing the second amendment will not stop this nonsense. Legal or illegal someone wanting a gun will find a gun. Pray. Pray. Pray some more and then keep praying. I am praying for the Lord's peace to wrap itself around our country and our world in addition to the families of the innocents. The deaths are being felt far outside the boundaries that rural Connecticut town. Hearts are breaking around this country and our world.
We must come together together and ask for the strength of Lord's love that will deliver us from this tragedy. That's right, we ask for the Lord's grace to see us through and receive the blessings of peace and strength He will surely give. If it sounds too easy, I offer this: when I need grace, strength and love to fill my heart I usually need it right then and so I ask for it. The Lord listens and responds. We are not meant to jump through hoops to receive the blessings He wants to bestow on his believers. He is eager to give them, we have to only ask. It is that simple. He did the hard work for us long before we arrived in His universe so it would be that simple. Just accept it, shut up and pray.
Pray for the teachers, the community, the parents, the siblings, the administrators all of who will wonder if they did enough today. They did. Pray for our country that will further be politically divided on the issue of gun control. We most definitely will. Pray for the parents across the globe who are hurting on behalf the parents who lost their children today whether they were an adult or a small child. We all are.
Pray for the unbelievers of this world who will do all they can to shift the focus away from the evil of Satan and cloud the issue with minutia. The media is included in that need for prayer.
Just stop and pray. Hug your babies, then pray with them.
May God bless us all.
The Blessings of an Imperfect Christmas
I think I had a real Christmas tree growing up most years. I really do not remember. Obviously, the real vs. fake tree is not an issue I am passionate about at Christmastime.
As an adult, I maintain the rationale that I have a lot of stuff on my "to do" list and stringing lights around tree only to have to unstring them weeks later does not sound like an endeavor to which I need to dedicate my time. There is always that one bulb that does not work on the light strand and that tangle always kinks up when unraveling the strands. I can feel the stress working its way into my shoulders as I type those words.
Additionally, my husband is not a Christmas person. He just is not and after 14 years together I am okay with that as long as he does not mind the madness that sets in my house this time of year. I set up the tree and I take it down; the same is true for the garland, Santas, snowmen, nativity scenes, candy canes, etc. I go all out just not with a real tree..... until this year.
I bought a beautiful artificial, pre-lit tree ten years ago for mine and Hunt's first married Christmas. It was perfect but after a 10 years, a few broken limbs and lots of tip overs from kids, it was time to put it out to the plastic pasture. I had every intention of buying a new one on sale in July but that didn't happen. Life happened but that did not. So this year, I unloaded the Christmas boxes and remembered I have no tree (insert gasp here).
Home Depot to the rescue and two hours later I have a beautiful 9 ft. REAL Christmas tree. Here is the kicker I discovered when we cut the bindings after it was secured in its tray:
REAL trees are not perfect.
I let it set for a couple of days. Friends told me the limbs would "fall" and it will be okay. The limbs did fall, it is beautiful but it was is still imperfect. The shape is more organic not structured, some of the limbs are not strong enough for ornaments and the limbs do not bend to fill in the gaps. My anxiety set in and it is now only after 2 weeks with my REAL tree that I can share this story.
I struggle with perfectionism. My house is a mess but on the surface I look pulled together. My perfect artificial tree gave me a sense of artificial peace because it was well, perfect. Perfect color and perfect shape equal perfection; only it does not and that is the Christmas lesson I have learned this year.
This year's imperfect REAL tree highlighted to me the unfinished stockings that I convinced I had to hand sew for my children, The hand sewn bead work is beautiful but took me a lot of time so somewhere all the way finishing them fell off the to do list. I have a beautiful plain tree skirt because, in my mind, I was designing the snowflake appliqués that would dance around the fabric at the base of our tree. My list of unfinished Christmas projects goes on and on but somehow my artificial tree pulled it all together.
I shared these feelings with two close friends both of whom rolled their eyes and looked at me like I was crazy. Words failed me when I tried to explain why perfection mattered to me so much. That is when I realized that maybe it shouldn't matter at all. If I am not given the words to speak those feelings maybe I should take the hint they should not be said.
The end of 2012 is birthday of my authenticity. I quit a good job with great benefits to establish my own business. I have laid my vulnerability on the table and gone all in to create a better life for myself and my family. I have never felt more exposed, ever. My Christmas house usually feels perfect. This year it feels REAL and it is something I am having to get used to everyday. I am not meant to be perfect, I am meant to be me with all of my imperfections. This lesson may be my Christmas miracle.
As an adult, I maintain the rationale that I have a lot of stuff on my "to do" list and stringing lights around tree only to have to unstring them weeks later does not sound like an endeavor to which I need to dedicate my time. There is always that one bulb that does not work on the light strand and that tangle always kinks up when unraveling the strands. I can feel the stress working its way into my shoulders as I type those words.
Additionally, my husband is not a Christmas person. He just is not and after 14 years together I am okay with that as long as he does not mind the madness that sets in my house this time of year. I set up the tree and I take it down; the same is true for the garland, Santas, snowmen, nativity scenes, candy canes, etc. I go all out just not with a real tree..... until this year.
I bought a beautiful artificial, pre-lit tree ten years ago for mine and Hunt's first married Christmas. It was perfect but after a 10 years, a few broken limbs and lots of tip overs from kids, it was time to put it out to the plastic pasture. I had every intention of buying a new one on sale in July but that didn't happen. Life happened but that did not. So this year, I unloaded the Christmas boxes and remembered I have no tree (insert gasp here).
Home Depot to the rescue and two hours later I have a beautiful 9 ft. REAL Christmas tree. Here is the kicker I discovered when we cut the bindings after it was secured in its tray:
REAL trees are not perfect.
I let it set for a couple of days. Friends told me the limbs would "fall" and it will be okay. The limbs did fall, it is beautiful but it was is still imperfect. The shape is more organic not structured, some of the limbs are not strong enough for ornaments and the limbs do not bend to fill in the gaps. My anxiety set in and it is now only after 2 weeks with my REAL tree that I can share this story.
I struggle with perfectionism. My house is a mess but on the surface I look pulled together. My perfect artificial tree gave me a sense of artificial peace because it was well, perfect. Perfect color and perfect shape equal perfection; only it does not and that is the Christmas lesson I have learned this year.
This year's imperfect REAL tree highlighted to me the unfinished stockings that I convinced I had to hand sew for my children, The hand sewn bead work is beautiful but took me a lot of time so somewhere all the way finishing them fell off the to do list. I have a beautiful plain tree skirt because, in my mind, I was designing the snowflake appliqués that would dance around the fabric at the base of our tree. My list of unfinished Christmas projects goes on and on but somehow my artificial tree pulled it all together.
I shared these feelings with two close friends both of whom rolled their eyes and looked at me like I was crazy. Words failed me when I tried to explain why perfection mattered to me so much. That is when I realized that maybe it shouldn't matter at all. If I am not given the words to speak those feelings maybe I should take the hint they should not be said.
The end of 2012 is birthday of my authenticity. I quit a good job with great benefits to establish my own business. I have laid my vulnerability on the table and gone all in to create a better life for myself and my family. I have never felt more exposed, ever. My Christmas house usually feels perfect. This year it feels REAL and it is something I am having to get used to everyday. I am not meant to be perfect, I am meant to be me with all of my imperfections. This lesson may be my Christmas miracle.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
This One is for Nancy
Adolescent girls all over the world today are playing with their best friends. More than half of them are plotting on how to stay best friends forever. How will they find brothers they can marry? Where will they live and raise their kids together? Most of these girls are just dreaming. Things like that do not happen in this world, it is too perfect. Except it does every now and then. It did for my mom, Jennifer Lewis McDaniel and her best friends Nancy Widle McDaniel and Connie Woodman McDaniel. It happened for them and because of it mom’s childhood friends make up a significant part of my childhood memories. Each of the friends had two children and the six of us played like friends, fought like siblings and love each other unconditionally as the family we are.
Monday, December 3, 2012
A Little Walk and A Big Lesson
Leaving my office job has afforded me the time to walk E to school each morning. We live about 5 blocks away and it is nice to take that short walk each morning with her six year old hand in mine. Everyday there is a new topic to discuss. Today's topic was "Do you believe in ghosts?". I tried to skate it because if I said "yes" bedtime would be a nightmare tonight. I almost said, "no" just to move on to the next subject but then she interjected that if ghosts weren't real then what about the Holy Ghost? Now we had a discussion on our hands so I did what any good parent with only 2 blocks left on their walk would do: punt.
"What do you think?" I asked.
She replied, "I think God is real and so the Holy Ghost must be real so there has to be some ghosts floating around. I just hope they are nice." I smiled and squeezed her hand three times. That is our secret sign for each other, three squeezes one for each word of I Love You.
We arrived at the school's steps, I kissed her six year old head, let go of her little hand and asked her to be brave and take on her day. She wrapped her arms around my waist and gave a very determined hug then ran up the steps. I stopped for a moment and watched her walk inside the doors. I then turned and started the lonely walk back.
At that moment, a white mini van pulled up next to the school. A mother with worry lines chiseled across her forehead, driving a van sounding like it is about to break down lovingly reached over to her son riding illegally in the front seat and placed the sign of the Cross over his body. She sealed the blessing with a light kiss to his forehead and then he opened the door. It all happened in the span of a minute but has left a lasting impression on me.
If appearances count for anything, the mother I saw dropping off her son and I live in different worlds, at least for now. But we are all in this together and we live each day with whatever faith and determination we have, using them to derive our strength for what ever may come our way. I enjoyed the quiet walk home, empty handed but fulfilled.
"What do you think?" I asked.
She replied, "I think God is real and so the Holy Ghost must be real so there has to be some ghosts floating around. I just hope they are nice." I smiled and squeezed her hand three times. That is our secret sign for each other, three squeezes one for each word of I Love You.
We arrived at the school's steps, I kissed her six year old head, let go of her little hand and asked her to be brave and take on her day. She wrapped her arms around my waist and gave a very determined hug then ran up the steps. I stopped for a moment and watched her walk inside the doors. I then turned and started the lonely walk back.
At that moment, a white mini van pulled up next to the school. A mother with worry lines chiseled across her forehead, driving a van sounding like it is about to break down lovingly reached over to her son riding illegally in the front seat and placed the sign of the Cross over his body. She sealed the blessing with a light kiss to his forehead and then he opened the door. It all happened in the span of a minute but has left a lasting impression on me.
If appearances count for anything, the mother I saw dropping off her son and I live in different worlds, at least for now. But we are all in this together and we live each day with whatever faith and determination we have, using them to derive our strength for what ever may come our way. I enjoyed the quiet walk home, empty handed but fulfilled.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
One of those days. Waffles, anyone?
"Through perseverance the snail reached the arc."
Today was one of those days. One of those that I do not know if I want a "do over" or simply be thankful that it is almost over. It was harsh and loud. "I want waaaffffffffffllleees".... that is how it started at 6AM.
B's feet hit the floor and instantly Hunt and I wake up and wait for the running jump onto our bed. B used to jump in and snuggle up but things have changed, he wakes up hungry. In case we did not hear he first request he promptly repeats it over and over over again until we relent and get up to get his beloved waffles into the toaster. I have started buying them at Costco because his appetite does not waiver, he wants waffles all day, every day.
Ella wakes soon after because the TV is too loud much like B's whining. The steroids they pumped into my system when my water broke so early worked. His lungs are just fine.
The whining and tears did not stop this morning and my stress level never lowered. We fed off each other. I actually loaded B up and took him to the doctor's office this morning to see if he had an ear infection. The pediatricians checked B's ears and offered a sympathetic, "Sorry mom, they are clear and not the problem. He is just 2." Thanks.
The single token given at the end of the appointment that is usually traded in for a bouncy ball was instead used for an Avengers sticker. Big mistake which meant an instant regret for the cranky 2 year old. His next 20 minutes were filled with tears and crying over not getting the bouncy ball. My time was spent turning up the radio while driving and hoping he would fall asleep and finally calling my mother. Don't judge. When at the end of one's rope a safe bet for anyone is to call mom.
Mom had no grand advice to give so I hung up and pulled in to a kid friendly restaurant. My plan B was to i) stop tears, ii) stop pulling hair out (mine not his), iii) tire him out until he collapses from exhaustion and sleeps most the afternoon. This, of course, included an ice cream cone after lunch. Two seconds after the cone was consumed he was asleep. And he slept and slept and slept. Three hours total of blissful napping. Then he wakes up......
I won't go through play by play of the entire day but rest assured the latter half of the day matched the first. Then it was birthday time for a preschool friend. B and his daddy showered, dressed and I dropped them off at the party for fun. E and I were enjoying some bad TV and frozen pizza when the phone rang.
It seems that dirty diapers can spoil a party. I got a call to come pick them up B was stinking up the place. I suggested he find a friend who was there with her daughter and get some wipes and a diaper. Crisis solved. The phone rang again..... it was too messy to handle so E and I loaded up and picked up Stinky and daddy. He did stink, it was messy and the day just keeps getting better.
We hosed B down, and eventually, finally, got our babies in bed. Day is done.
Tomorrow will begin with more waffles and end with more angelic, sleeping faces. I will try and keep my calm and am sure I will lose it at some point. I pray I am forgiven for those slips and the kid's therapy bills will not be too high.
Just as the snail reached the arc through perseverance, we will get through the terrible twos and sensitive six year old stages. One waffle and drop of syrup at a time.
Today was one of those days. One of those that I do not know if I want a "do over" or simply be thankful that it is almost over. It was harsh and loud. "I want waaaffffffffffllleees".... that is how it started at 6AM.
B's feet hit the floor and instantly Hunt and I wake up and wait for the running jump onto our bed. B used to jump in and snuggle up but things have changed, he wakes up hungry. In case we did not hear he first request he promptly repeats it over and over over again until we relent and get up to get his beloved waffles into the toaster. I have started buying them at Costco because his appetite does not waiver, he wants waffles all day, every day.
Ella wakes soon after because the TV is too loud much like B's whining. The steroids they pumped into my system when my water broke so early worked. His lungs are just fine.
The whining and tears did not stop this morning and my stress level never lowered. We fed off each other. I actually loaded B up and took him to the doctor's office this morning to see if he had an ear infection. The pediatricians checked B's ears and offered a sympathetic, "Sorry mom, they are clear and not the problem. He is just 2." Thanks.
The single token given at the end of the appointment that is usually traded in for a bouncy ball was instead used for an Avengers sticker. Big mistake which meant an instant regret for the cranky 2 year old. His next 20 minutes were filled with tears and crying over not getting the bouncy ball. My time was spent turning up the radio while driving and hoping he would fall asleep and finally calling my mother. Don't judge. When at the end of one's rope a safe bet for anyone is to call mom.
Mom had no grand advice to give so I hung up and pulled in to a kid friendly restaurant. My plan B was to i) stop tears, ii) stop pulling hair out (mine not his), iii) tire him out until he collapses from exhaustion and sleeps most the afternoon. This, of course, included an ice cream cone after lunch. Two seconds after the cone was consumed he was asleep. And he slept and slept and slept. Three hours total of blissful napping. Then he wakes up......
I won't go through play by play of the entire day but rest assured the latter half of the day matched the first. Then it was birthday time for a preschool friend. B and his daddy showered, dressed and I dropped them off at the party for fun. E and I were enjoying some bad TV and frozen pizza when the phone rang.
It seems that dirty diapers can spoil a party. I got a call to come pick them up B was stinking up the place. I suggested he find a friend who was there with her daughter and get some wipes and a diaper. Crisis solved. The phone rang again..... it was too messy to handle so E and I loaded up and picked up Stinky and daddy. He did stink, it was messy and the day just keeps getting better.
We hosed B down, and eventually, finally, got our babies in bed. Day is done.
Tomorrow will begin with more waffles and end with more angelic, sleeping faces. I will try and keep my calm and am sure I will lose it at some point. I pray I am forgiven for those slips and the kid's therapy bills will not be too high.
Just as the snail reached the arc through perseverance, we will get through the terrible twos and sensitive six year old stages. One waffle and drop of syrup at a time.
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