I hate politics. Ask anyone I know and they will tell you I hate politics. The bad news is that I work in politics. Worse news is that I thrive on politics. Do you see my problem? I have read the line between love and hate is a thin one and I think I zig zag across it daily. Who is running for what, who is not running, who says they are running but really will not, who will be president and what does that do to the state offices..... the questions are endless and exhausting and at the end of the day absolutely useless to me in my everyday life. I should get out but have no idea what else to do. I am open for suggestions. I have dreams of starting my own business, publishing my book, establishing a brand (I already have websites purchased) the kicker is that I need to make money and I have no clue how to do that.
I am reading articles, websites and blogs about recognizing my value, putting a price on my talents, creating my own destiny and liberating myself from politics. There are some great resources out there, for example: http://dailyworth.com/ but here I am still sitting on Square1. My husband says it takes money to make money so what I apparently need is a sugar daddy or the desire to rid myself of my earthly belongings and see them all on EBay I just do not see either of them happening.
Crap, I have to go, a legislative office is on hold for me......
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
My Sobering Experience
My friend earned his one year sobriety chip last night. He asked me to attend his AA meeting and I agreed to go. I did not know what to wear or what kind of people I would encounter. I was feeling a little nervous, a little scared and secretly little superior to those I was sure would show up. The meeting was held on a university campus but close to downtown so I was sure there would be a mix of students and professionals. All of them would be addicts. I was sure I would not fit in with them.
The meeting promptly started and there I sat overdressed, arms crossed with open ears and an open heart. These people deserved my respect for what they have overcome and my pity for where they have been in their journeys to sobriety; didn’t they? I looked around and surmised the average age of the crowded room was 22. I was not just overdressed but now I felt old. The fresh, innocent faces showed few, if any signs, of their addictions. One by one, they put a voice to their struggles and it became clear that although I was older than most of them had lived enough for four lifetimes. The journeys and Hell they have seen and lived also made them wiser than I expected. It was a sobering thought when I realized I could learn a lot from an addict.
The meeting took place in a basement but the atmosphere loosely resembled a church. Actually, it resembled what a church should be. The honesty in the room was disarming. “Hi. I am John and I am an addict/alcoholic” I smirked when I first heard it because it really was just like in the movies. After hearing one testimony after another, the purity of their words and the strength of their faith was overwhelming. This was a room full of addicts and alcoholics; this was also a room full of Christians. My presence in a church should be viewed as a declaration that I am weak. I should stand and say, “Hi. My name is Wendy and I am a sinner,” but I don’t. I go to church once a week for an hour a week and I question why I feel lost at times. These people live church every minute everyday as a way to stay clean but more importantly alive.
A familiar theme in last night’s meeting was living not in the past or future but the present; this very moment. When you live in the moment you are fully present and can correct or address actions that cause you anxiety. When you live in the moment you do not regret a moment that you lived today next week. Then it hit me; I am not an addict or alcoholic but I am “one of them” only I strive to reach the level of faith that many of them live every day. We should all be so lucky to live with that kind of faith. I hate to think I would need an addiction to get me there.
To be blunt, I am inspired. There were no saints in that room last night. We were all sinners just trying to find our way.
The meeting promptly started and there I sat overdressed, arms crossed with open ears and an open heart. These people deserved my respect for what they have overcome and my pity for where they have been in their journeys to sobriety; didn’t they? I looked around and surmised the average age of the crowded room was 22. I was not just overdressed but now I felt old. The fresh, innocent faces showed few, if any signs, of their addictions. One by one, they put a voice to their struggles and it became clear that although I was older than most of them had lived enough for four lifetimes. The journeys and Hell they have seen and lived also made them wiser than I expected. It was a sobering thought when I realized I could learn a lot from an addict.
The meeting took place in a basement but the atmosphere loosely resembled a church. Actually, it resembled what a church should be. The honesty in the room was disarming. “Hi. I am John and I am an addict/alcoholic” I smirked when I first heard it because it really was just like in the movies. After hearing one testimony after another, the purity of their words and the strength of their faith was overwhelming. This was a room full of addicts and alcoholics; this was also a room full of Christians. My presence in a church should be viewed as a declaration that I am weak. I should stand and say, “Hi. My name is Wendy and I am a sinner,” but I don’t. I go to church once a week for an hour a week and I question why I feel lost at times. These people live church every minute everyday as a way to stay clean but more importantly alive.
A familiar theme in last night’s meeting was living not in the past or future but the present; this very moment. When you live in the moment you are fully present and can correct or address actions that cause you anxiety. When you live in the moment you do not regret a moment that you lived today next week. Then it hit me; I am not an addict or alcoholic but I am “one of them” only I strive to reach the level of faith that many of them live every day. We should all be so lucky to live with that kind of faith. I hate to think I would need an addiction to get me there.
To be blunt, I am inspired. There were no saints in that room last night. We were all sinners just trying to find our way.
Friday, September 2, 2011
You Can't Teach Boy
My baby boy, Boone, is 18 months old. He is expressive, strong willed and obsessed with balls of all types and size: footballs, basketballs, soccer balls, tennis balls. His fascination has become borderline obsessive. Given my athletic tendencies (I was a great high school athlete..) I have hoped that my son would be athletic. There is nothing wrong with a brainiac kid or a kid who would rather play the tuba than kick a ball but I have maintained the dream that my kid would be able to be/do those things and be highly coordinated with a competitive strike that would enhance his field performance. Just saying. And to take it a bit further, I have hoped he will be inclined to play baseball, golf, track, basketball, soccer- anything but football. I do not want my baby at the bottom of some pile of big ol’ boys or have his helmet crash into an over-amped wanna be hero. It is a wonder I can even sleep at night worrying about such things.
Anyway, back to balls; the college football season has begun. My husband’s mood has lifted considerably and despite the 100 degree temperatures you know Fall is just around the corner. (insert prayers here that Fall will bring 80 degree temperatures and a little rain) Last night Wisconsin played UNLV. The game was on in the living room and I walked in to find both the males in my family enjoying the game. Each time the ball was run baby boy would yell and clap and carry on. Hunt turned the channel and Boone cried. The moment I learned that you can’t teach “boy” was when I had to turn the TV in the kitchen from the Wonder Pets to the football game to get him to sit down and eat. He is 18months old! You cannot teach “boy” to an 18 month year old, they have it or they don’t. It looks like I got my wish and it is going to be a long college football season.
Anyway, back to balls; the college football season has begun. My husband’s mood has lifted considerably and despite the 100 degree temperatures you know Fall is just around the corner. (insert prayers here that Fall will bring 80 degree temperatures and a little rain) Last night Wisconsin played UNLV. The game was on in the living room and I walked in to find both the males in my family enjoying the game. Each time the ball was run baby boy would yell and clap and carry on. Hunt turned the channel and Boone cried. The moment I learned that you can’t teach “boy” was when I had to turn the TV in the kitchen from the Wonder Pets to the football game to get him to sit down and eat. He is 18months old! You cannot teach “boy” to an 18 month year old, they have it or they don’t. It looks like I got my wish and it is going to be a long college football season.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
"Ugh, I won't talk to strangers". We had to tell her the answer was still, "no" to her request to walk to school all alone. Granted it is only 4 blocks away but these are uncertain times and the world has populated itself with some unsavory people even in West Central Austin. Besides that, she is only 5 years old.
Later that same night I was tucking E in and for the first time since we've been in the "big house" she did not ask for her closet light to be turned on. Instead we were able to enjoy the glow- in -the -dark stars that illuminated the ceiling directly above her bed. Together we tried to count the stars and began to say our prayers. I kissed her cheek got up to leave when she stopped me by saying, "mommy, don't want my closet light on. Everyone knows monsters don't live in closets.
"That's right, baby," I offered. She quickly added, "they walk thru doors".
(Gulp). My mind flashed back to our earlier conversation about her not walking to school by herself. It is my earnest prayer E does not ever have first hand experience about how true her monster statement was. They do walk through doors and that is why I lock mine.
Later that same night I was tucking E in and for the first time since we've been in the "big house" she did not ask for her closet light to be turned on. Instead we were able to enjoy the glow- in -the -dark stars that illuminated the ceiling directly above her bed. Together we tried to count the stars and began to say our prayers. I kissed her cheek got up to leave when she stopped me by saying, "mommy, don't want my closet light on. Everyone knows monsters don't live in closets.
"That's right, baby," I offered. She quickly added, "they walk thru doors".
(Gulp). My mind flashed back to our earlier conversation about her not walking to school by herself. It is my earnest prayer E does not ever have first hand experience about how true her monster statement was. They do walk through doors and that is why I lock mine.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
She Waved Goodbye
There I stood holding one baby on my hip and watching the other one walk away to her future. Oh sure, she was only walking herself to the cafeteria where her kindergarten teacher would be waiting to take her to the classroom but she walked in the school…… alone.
We are lucky enough to get to walk E to school every morning. We even get to walk up which will be really funny when it snows. She will get to tell her kids that she walked uphill in the snow to school every morning and actually not be exaggerating—bonus! This morning during our walk to school E said it would be okay with her if I just dropped her off in the car tomorrow. I asked if she was ready to unbuckle her seat belt and carry her back-back all by herself because I would not be able to get out of the car. Her answer was simply, “Yes, I’ll be okay”. I swallowed hard and said but we like to walk you to school, Daddy really likes it. She replied, “Well then Daddy can walk me but you could just drop me off.” I ended the conversation by saying we would talk about it later.
We then approached the school. I parked the stroller got Baby Brother out and on my hip and started up the stairs. E stopped me and said “Mom, I wanted you to stay on the stairs.” I was taken aback, “You don’t want us to walk you in?” Her response, “I know where to go, I’ll be okay. I love you.” She waved and then closed the doors behind her. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
It was the most honest of conversations. She was not trying to hurt me nor was she embarrassed of me, she only wanted to assert her independence. She wanted to go in alone.
It occurred to me in that moment that it has taken me all of my 36 years of life to be as independent as my daughter is at 5 years old. I must be doing a good job.
We are lucky enough to get to walk E to school every morning. We even get to walk up which will be really funny when it snows. She will get to tell her kids that she walked uphill in the snow to school every morning and actually not be exaggerating—bonus! This morning during our walk to school E said it would be okay with her if I just dropped her off in the car tomorrow. I asked if she was ready to unbuckle her seat belt and carry her back-back all by herself because I would not be able to get out of the car. Her answer was simply, “Yes, I’ll be okay”. I swallowed hard and said but we like to walk you to school, Daddy really likes it. She replied, “Well then Daddy can walk me but you could just drop me off.” I ended the conversation by saying we would talk about it later.
We then approached the school. I parked the stroller got Baby Brother out and on my hip and started up the stairs. E stopped me and said “Mom, I wanted you to stay on the stairs.” I was taken aback, “You don’t want us to walk you in?” Her response, “I know where to go, I’ll be okay. I love you.” She waved and then closed the doors behind her. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
It was the most honest of conversations. She was not trying to hurt me nor was she embarrassed of me, she only wanted to assert her independence. She wanted to go in alone.
It occurred to me in that moment that it has taken me all of my 36 years of life to be as independent as my daughter is at 5 years old. I must be doing a good job.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Long Day
It has been a long day. I cannot remember one that has not been long since my second child was born. Full time work, endless supplies need to be bought: diapers, formula, groceries, wipes, school supplies for my 4 year old, etc, dinners need cooking, our new house is looking too lived in after one month because with more space means the more cleaning there is to do. It is just one more thing to add to the list.
Saturday and Sundays were once days of leisure but alas, no more. Sleeping til 9AM has been replaced with prayers that the baby will sleep til 7AM uninterrupted. Watching an afternoon movie in bed has been replaced with any number of things. All I seem to do is work, work, work, go, go, go as mother, wife, manager and a thankful child of God. My life is blessed and full. Some days it feels so full I feel like I am going to burst…..literally. Fuses get shorter, frustrations grow larger and tones get sharper.
I have a beautiful, thoughtful four year old daughter who more often than not seems to be older than her natural age. It is for this reason I seemed to have made the exception the norm and expect her to act at least 6. When she falls short of this, as she does daily, I snap. I count, I raise my voice, I threaten punishment and I scare her to death. I do not mean to be cruel. I am trying to live each moment as a means to get to the next. It is not romantic or healthy but it is a way of life and I know I am not alone with that attitude although I may be one of the few who will admit it.
Tonight after the third snap of the day my daughter’s tears began to fall once again. “You have been mean to me all day (sob)” . She tends to exaggerate often but I know to her, despite her Happy Meal for lunch and hugs and kisses in between the snaps, I had been mean. To her four year old heart and mind my exception had become my norm too.
“Guilty,” I thought to myself.
“Why don’t you let me love you?” was next out of her mouth as she climbed the stairs with slumped shoulders behind me. I waited for her at the landing and scooped her up for a full-on hug. I pulled my head away and say her wet eyes and cheeks and told her we needed to pray. Together, right there on the landing with the last college football game of the night on full volume in the background as my husband watched on the couch, we prayed.
“Lord, please help me to live my days not as a means to an end but rather live it in moments that are to be remembered and filled with Your Spirit and Love. Please give me the strength to not take my blessings for granted and give me the humility to not make my days all about me, my goals, my plan, my schedule. And,” I opened one eye to see my daughter smiling at me so I closed quickly with “And dear God please do not ever let my babies question the love of their mother.” I ended with a dramatic "Amen" and a kiss and carried her off to bed giggling where we read books she drifted off the sleep.
Tomorrow is a new day, a new gift and I promise to be better. Not try to be better but to get it right because my babies deserve nothing less. I am not and will not ever be perfect and nether will they. One moment at a time with each breath offered as a prayer I can do it.
Saturday and Sundays were once days of leisure but alas, no more. Sleeping til 9AM has been replaced with prayers that the baby will sleep til 7AM uninterrupted. Watching an afternoon movie in bed has been replaced with any number of things. All I seem to do is work, work, work, go, go, go as mother, wife, manager and a thankful child of God. My life is blessed and full. Some days it feels so full I feel like I am going to burst…..literally. Fuses get shorter, frustrations grow larger and tones get sharper.
I have a beautiful, thoughtful four year old daughter who more often than not seems to be older than her natural age. It is for this reason I seemed to have made the exception the norm and expect her to act at least 6. When she falls short of this, as she does daily, I snap. I count, I raise my voice, I threaten punishment and I scare her to death. I do not mean to be cruel. I am trying to live each moment as a means to get to the next. It is not romantic or healthy but it is a way of life and I know I am not alone with that attitude although I may be one of the few who will admit it.
Tonight after the third snap of the day my daughter’s tears began to fall once again. “You have been mean to me all day (sob)” . She tends to exaggerate often but I know to her, despite her Happy Meal for lunch and hugs and kisses in between the snaps, I had been mean. To her four year old heart and mind my exception had become my norm too.
“Guilty,” I thought to myself.
“Why don’t you let me love you?” was next out of her mouth as she climbed the stairs with slumped shoulders behind me. I waited for her at the landing and scooped her up for a full-on hug. I pulled my head away and say her wet eyes and cheeks and told her we needed to pray. Together, right there on the landing with the last college football game of the night on full volume in the background as my husband watched on the couch, we prayed.
“Lord, please help me to live my days not as a means to an end but rather live it in moments that are to be remembered and filled with Your Spirit and Love. Please give me the strength to not take my blessings for granted and give me the humility to not make my days all about me, my goals, my plan, my schedule. And,” I opened one eye to see my daughter smiling at me so I closed quickly with “And dear God please do not ever let my babies question the love of their mother.” I ended with a dramatic "Amen" and a kiss and carried her off to bed giggling where we read books she drifted off the sleep.
Tomorrow is a new day, a new gift and I promise to be better. Not try to be better but to get it right because my babies deserve nothing less. I am not and will not ever be perfect and nether will they. One moment at a time with each breath offered as a prayer I can do it.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Not Seing the Whole Picture
I held in my hands two 11x17 pieces of white paper that were covered in yellow bpaint. The irregular and semi circled brush strokes were the artistic work of my three year old. They were covered from edge to edge with bright yellow paint. She was so proud of her work and I tried to be as enthusiatic as she deserved me to be but was very curious what the heck she was trying to paint. I held them up facing her and asked, "what do you want me to see in these, baby girl?".
"Mom, it is part of the sun, silly", was her response. Of course it was, of course, how could I possibly miss that! A part of the sun....not THE sun. Of course! I just did not see the bigger picture and was trying to focus on the concrete not the abstract. I also did not consider the perspective of a small child. "It would take too much paper to paint the whole sun", then she ran off leaving me to digest her words and smile. My baby girl is smart.
"For we walk by faith, not by sight, "that is one of my favorite scriptures. We must concentrate on the bigger picture not rely on what is of this world, the concrete. We must also remember the world is made up of perspectives and we all see things a bit different from our neighbors. My baby girl is so smart!
"Mom, it is part of the sun, silly", was her response. Of course it was, of course, how could I possibly miss that! A part of the sun....not THE sun. Of course! I just did not see the bigger picture and was trying to focus on the concrete not the abstract. I also did not consider the perspective of a small child. "It would take too much paper to paint the whole sun", then she ran off leaving me to digest her words and smile. My baby girl is smart.
"For we walk by faith, not by sight, "that is one of my favorite scriptures. We must concentrate on the bigger picture not rely on what is of this world, the concrete. We must also remember the world is made up of perspectives and we all see things a bit different from our neighbors. My baby girl is so smart!
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