Three Things

At MOPS this morning we were challenged to write down three things we would like our kids to say about us when we die, and then keep them on a note card as a reminder as we go about our daily life. Oh, well, that's hard and makes me want to cry and also, that is impossible to narrow down. There are so many things I still have to teach my kids, and so many things I am still learning myself.

It reminded me of one of my favorite Amy Grant songs from my childhood - Father's Eyes.

I may not be every mother's dream for her little girl, 

And my face may not grace the mind of everyone in the world.

But that's all right, as long as I can have one wish I pray:

When people look inside my life, I want to hear them say, 

She's got her father's eyes, Her father's eyes; 

Eyes that find the good in things, When good is not around; 

Eyes that find the source of help, When help just can't be found; 

Eyes full of compassion, Seeing every pain; 

Knowing what you're going through And feeling it the same.

Just like my father's eyes, My father's eyes, My father's eyes, Just like my father's eyes.

Here is what I would like my kids to say about me:

1. I showed them what it is to be human.
I want my kids to see that I mess up and get emotional and overreact and lose my cool, and they do see that. Often. I also hope they see me apologize and take deep breaths and try harder next time. Because I'm nowhere near perfect, and chances are they aren't going to be either. I hope they don't see a facade; I hope they see me, the real me. And when they make mistakes in life they aren't disheartened, because they will know that everyone does, even (especially) their Mama. I hope they will know that it's not your mistakes, but how you handle your mistakes that's the real test of character.

2. I am compassionate.
Empathy is my thing. There is very little armor between my heart and other people's pain. This can make life hard for me at times, especially with how readily available horrible news stories are. But I also feel like it is my gift to the world. Sometimes when I am so deeply upset about someone else's tragedy I feel like maybe I am carrying just a bit of their burden for them, lightening them just enough so they can remember to breathe in and breathe out. I want my kids to be caring and kind and see people who are hurting and in need of love. And that they will respond in any small way they can. It's just the most important we can do on this Earth - being kind to one another, and I hope I can be a good example of that to my children.

3. I love them.
I have never for one second in my entire life questioned if I am loved. My parents always made it abundantly clear that I am loved and delighted in by them and by God. As I became an adult, I realized how wonderful and rare of a gift that is. We come into this world so fragile and innately trusting, and not everyone had the parents I had. I hope my kids know in the deepest parts of their soul that I love them completely. With all the mistakes we are all going to make, and all the places I feel that I fall short as a mother, if they know this at the end of my life, my life will have been a success.

Gratitude

Gratitude

This family o' mine
A drink from the vine
Secrets with friends
Contact lens
Warm cupcake
View of a lake
Coffee, oh coffee
How do I love thee?
Feeling understood
A meal that's good
Cool breeze
Let out a sneeze
Ah-choo
Bless you
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll
Goodness, gracious, oh my soul
Flowers picked by my kids
Sippy cups with leak proof lids
Candlelight with my favorite guy
A crisp and blue October sky
Christmas trees lit up in the dark
Swings and slides at the park
Good hair days
Broadway plays
Mail in the box
Warm fuzzy socks
Sunshine on my skin
A home team win
Ins and outs, ups and down
Make this little life go round.

The Jar

It was almost time. She felt dread, and she had to actually feel it because her jar was almost full. She didn't want this to top it off. So she sat with her dread for a minute until she decided to just do it. Let's get this over with, she mumbled to herself and grabbed the large, opaque jar from its hiding spot in the dark recesses of her closet. It was so heavy she could barely lift it. She sat down with it in a corner of her bedroom. 
Here was everything she had put off over several years. Discomfort from a small tiff with her husband that had been avoided by looking at her phone. Jealousy that had arisen from subsequently seeing fabulous vacation photos on Facebook from the girl who had lived next door to her in college. Anger and frustration from that time(s) her toddler threw a fit in the Target aisle. Those feelings were forced aside by two new sweaters, a cute pair of boots and a cheap toy from the dollar section. Shame from remembering the hurtful words she had said about her friend's parenting skills, before she had even had children, of course. Shame that was deepened later when that friend was so gracious with her when she was a fragile new mother. Fear of several varieties: middle of the night "what does it all mean?", and the near miss of her kid almost running in the street, and that abnormal lab test that later turned out to be OK, and on and on. Some were ignored with a large glass of wine. Others with reality dating shows. But here it was now, a jar full of moments like these, where she felt she just couldn't deal. And she had to face them. She had heard what happens if you never empty your jar... It explodes. And those feelings are like shrapnel that hit every area of your life. That didn't sound pleasant, so she was going to do the responsible thing and empty her jar completely this afternoon. 
She took a deep breath and slowly unscrewed the lid. One by one they hit her. First it was just the uncomfortable ones, nothing too painful, but there were so many. So many moments that probably weren't that bad at the time, but piled up like this were becoming unbearable. But then came the anger and frustration. She felt white hot with indignation and rage. She had spent so much of her life trying to be nice and pleasant, not rocking the boat. No one had ever said it out loud, but women who showed their anger were rarely admired. So down it had been pushed with tight lipped smiles and polite words. But now that she was overcome with all that anger someone calling her a bitch didn't seem like the end of the world. In fact, she dared them to do it. Shame came next. Things she had said, things she had done and things she had thought. Hateful things, ugly and mean, about other people, but mostly about herself. She shut her eyes tight to try not to feel it. Shame overlapped with fear, of course. Fear that she was a bad friend, a terrible wife and an unfit mother. The fear then turned to all of those worst case scenarios she had ever let take root in her mind. Car crashes, accidental poisoning, divorce, death, loneliness, abandonment, the list went on and on. She found herself thinking there was nothing but horror in the world. What was the point, really?!? The apogee of the experience was hurt. The times she had felt lonely and isolated and ignored and dismissed. It pierced so acutely she almost couldn't breathe, tears were following abundantly down her face. She has reached the point where she wasn't sure she could stand it. All these feelings might actually kill her. She felt weak and hopeless. 
Of course this jar was only filled with things she hadn't wanted to feel, so there was no joy, no pleasure, no goodness at this time because that she hadn't pushed away. But what she didn't realize all this time is that the lack of these difficult emotions had dulled the pleasant ones just a bit. So at once she was flooded with the crisp edges of delight and joy and happiness. And this brought freedom and hope and an amazing strength. This strength enabled her to open her eyes, take several deep, cleansing breaths, stand up, pick up her jar (that was now as light as a feather) and smash it to pieces on the hardwood floor. She looked down at the shards of glass and how powerless the jar was now. She smiled walked away smiling.

Write 31 Days

Day 1: The Bricks
Day 2: The Jar
Day 3: Gratitude
Day 4: Three Things
Day 5: Dear Mr. Congressman
Day 6: Inspired
Day 7: No Time





write31days.com

The Bricks

The bricks were getting tired now, 

From weathering the storm.

They held the house up faithfully, 

No shingle had been torn.

How much can one rock endure

As inch by inch was worn.

When the bricks would lose their will

Inward they would turn

The ones indoors were calm and warm

And all would seem just right.

The bricks' strength would be renewed

To get them through the night.

How often do you stop to think and thank

the bricks that hold you dear?

But it's alright, 

No accolades are needed here,

Nor pomp or praise or prose.

 Just knowing that they did their job

And from their strength arose

One or two who now are strong,

Kind and brave and true.

For that is all those bricks

ever strove to do.

SDB

http://write31days.com/

The Trouble with Talking Toys

As any parent knows, toys that talk, play music or make any sound whatsoever are annoying as hell. Anyone who gives a gift that makes sound to a child should first have to listen to said toy on repeat for three hours and then decide if it's a good gift. Spoiler alert: it's not. But children love them and grandparents love to buy them as retribution.
This is not the problem I am referring to, however. These toys are trying to kill me via heart attack. When Emmet was one-ish I was putting groceries into the car and a man's muffled voice said something right behind me. My heart stopped, and I turned to face my attacker. No one was there. The voice came again... turns out I had a transformer car in my purse telling me to "transform and roll ooouuuuttt!"
Last fall, we were driving in the car and Emmet was quiet in the back in deep thought. Then he says, "Mama..." pensive pause... "Mama, (do you) have a Buzz?" Seeing as I was newly pregnant, driving a car, and it was three o'clock in the afternoon - I gathered he was referring to the Lightyear rather than the Cabernet variety. So I (wistfully) responded, "No, buddy, unfortunately Mama does not have a Buzz." To which he said, " I don't have a Buzz, either, Mama - I just have a Woody." Thank you Toy Story for that completely inappropriate conversation - which actually has nothing to do with what I'm talking about, I just think its funny. He, of course, gets a talking Buzz and Woody for Christmas from his grandparents. Fast forward to four days ago when he dunks Woody into a bucket of rainwater after explicitly being told that talking toys can't get wet. Woody went to the toy hospital to dry, along with a Lightning McQueen that I had to disassemble. I checked it every so often to see if it still worked and it did. Once it was completely dry, I gave it back to Emmet, he pulled his string, but no talking. Oh well, I thought this was a good lesson for him to learn. HOURS later as we were getting up from naptime, we hear from downstairs, "Howdy, Partner!" and "Yeehaw!" Our Woody is apparently possessed, talking only when he wants to. This has gone on for a few days now, and Woody seems to be getting chattier with each passing day. I sent Chad this text today, "The Woody Doll is talking a lot in the playroom by himself. So, it's just me and the voice of Tom Hanks here at the house... totally normal."
I guess I'm off to bury him in the backyard, lest I be chopped up while I sleep - I mean, I remember the ghost stories from 4th grade. Ah, the joys of parenthood.

Power

It is easy to believe we don't have any power in today's world. With vast international corporations attempting to drive all of our consumer decisions, greedy bankers playing Russian roulette with our money, the ever widening wealth inequality, and corrupt politicians in the news every other day, it is a wonder we don't feel defeated all the time. And yes, some people have much more power  through position and wealth than the regular folks. But all of us are given 24 hours a day with which to cast a vote and a voice with every dollar we earn and spend. And as Americans, its a lot more dollars than we think. Most first world citizens are in the Top 1% of wealth in the world and we do about 90% of the consuming.

If asked, most Americans would report they value things like family, friends, church, honesty, freedom, equality, etc. But I'm not sure that is the picture of what we appear to value through our actions. And that is what we call cognitive dissonance - the state of having inconsistent thoughts, beliefs, or attitudes as relating to behavioral decisions. It's something we all experience, but have become skilled at putting out of mind. But here's what our behaviors show we value.

With every reality show we watch - we are telling TV corporations, "I value this! Make more shows where women are fighting over something no one cares about, where country people's simple ways are mocked with or without their knowledge, where the most cutthroat person is revered."

With every purchase of a drive-thru burger and fries we let the fast food industry know, "I value convenience over health and taste! I would rather spend $2.50 now and pay for diabetes treatment later."

With every "five minutes" on our smartphones that turns into 2 hours we are telling ourselves, our family and our friends, "I value social media over actual conversation and relationship! Being with real people is too complicated, so I'll just look at other's people fake lives, show them my fake life and catch up with whatever wisdom famous people want to share with me on Twitter."

With every dollar we spend at companies with un-ethical business practices we reassure them, "I value cheap stuff over poor people! Sure, I know there are men, women and children working in horrible conditions for very little money to keep this product so cheap for me, but I can easily turn a blind eye. It's as if I am not also a citizen of the same world."

With every diet pill and cosmetic fix-it-all we buy, we are asserting to the company, ourselves and women all over the world, "I believe you when you tell me I am not okay! I don't feel pretty enough, thin enough, perfect enough in my skin. I will do whatever it takes to try to live up to an unrealistic image of beauty."

With every purchase we make that we can't afford we insist, "I've bought the lie! This shiny new thing will surely make me happy and fulfilled, even when all of the other things haven't."

When we fill our calendar to the brim with activities and to-dos (however noble they seem) we tell our minds and bodies, "Busy is important! I have to be all of the things to all of the people without being anything for myself. My well-being is second-tier to being important; rest and pleasure must be sacrificed! Busy is my badge of honor!"

I'm a total buzz-kill, I know. It's easy to feel like my small contribution doesn't matter - it's just a 30 minute show or a $20 shirt, I feel that way too. But if I used my time and money to reflect my actual values, instead of furthering the cognitive dissonance between my heart/mind and the life I'm living, and you did too, and enough people started making changes - things might happen. We are never going to rid ourselves of these things completely, but I think companies would take notice. They don't really care all that much about their product, they just want to spend as little as possible to sell it to you for as much as possible. So if the market speaks, they will listen... although probably begrudgingly.

Or maybe we would realize we don't actually care what they are selling us. Maybe we will see we don't understand the difference between needs and wants. Maybe we would find better things to do with our time that left us feeling more enriched instead of drained and miserable. And maybe less stuff and more time enjoying the gifts we've been given would actually make us happy. It's a radical idea, and I know I'm not the first to have it, but maybe it's worth pursuing. I want to take back my power.

"You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it is better to listen to what it has to say." Paul Coelho in The Alchemist

"But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation." Jesus, Luke 6:24

"The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world." Dr. Paul Farmer

"The trouble is, you think you have time." Buddha

"Mother Teresa didn't walk around complaining about her thighs - she had shit to do." Sarah Silverman

"The sexiest thing in the entire world is being really smart, and being thoughtful, and being generous. Everything else is crap, I promise you. It's just crap that people try to sell to you to make you feel like less. So don't buy it! Be smart, be thoughtful and be generous." Ashton Kutcher

"Do small things with great love." Mother Teresa

"We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented." Elie Wiesel