What to do?

Until next season...

My friend, Diane, has the lexicon of a motivational speaker. She was reminding me the other day, “Remember, it’s the journey—not the destination.” I try to think that way. I really do. But at this time of year, I can't help but feel a tremendous amount of satisfaction when I see a few activities getting crossed off on the list. 

• Piano lessons
• Soccer
• Lessons/practice after school
• Graduation parties
• SCHOOL
• Getting the kids to bed before the news. Okay, before Chelsea Handler.

 We’re down to baseball and driver’s ed.

So after I get caught up on laundry, which should take approximately three weeks, I still need to whittle my to-do list, which isn't quite so consumed with maternal-like duties like those above. Let's see, what to do?

• Finish reading that Charles Dickens novel…the crazy-ambitious read that I happened to suggest for book club?
• Pound away on my manuscript now that my amazing editor has given me a college semester's worth of commentary? How many times can I rewrite this book? It's too embarrassing to admit.
•  Or, dig in my garden to create an impossible botanical oasis I’m certain not to accomplish?

Holy buckets! Apparently I forgot it's summer. I'm watching Idol. And Neil Diamond is performing Sweet Caroline! See ya.

Courage, Smourage

So we're leaving for church last Sunday and I'm quickly taking the dog's bed outside for the day. Even though we're pressed to walk into church just a lick before the bells ring, I'm stopped in my tracks. Lo and behold, a serpentine guest is curled before me. I drop the bed and get myself back onto the car with lightning speed.

"Kids! Go put Percy's bed on the porch."

Of course, they knew something was up. And since we were on our way to church, I felt obligated to tell the truth. (Anyone catching the biblical themes in my story?) Anyway, my little cowards wouldn't do it. So, I bucked up. And when I ran back out, I saw something more disturbing. The snake slithered into a hole positioned in the midst of my flower bed.

Not good. So much for living without fear, huh?(See prior posts.)

Well, tonight I finally made it out to the scary bed to pull a few weeds. Although a bit jumpy, I was able to get some fresh air for once. With my trusty terrier by my side in case of a reptile attack. Pretty brave, heh? I must admit, it was quite worth the adventure.

My irises...only a few inches from the snake's lair.

That Courage Thing Again! Gheesh!

I'm outside reading when Cole pokes his head up from an earth worm inspection. "Do you know that small insects often die from fear?"


No, I was not aware. But I found the information particularly relevant. Bugs should take heed. And sometimes, methinks, I should as well.


Courageous Actions?

• My 14-year old daughter's trip to NYC with her vocal group. Sans her parents. (The night before the flight, it seriously occurred to me that I could prohibit her from going...)
• My son's participation in soccer and baseball. Translation? His awareness that a ball could hit him in the face.
• My dog's fearless barks at the unknown. Every single night. For hours. And hours.
• My hubby who mows a lawn with known serpents slithering amidst the boundaries of our yard.
• My mother's retirement from a government job...and the opening of her OWN boutique.
• My dad's support of the boutique...despite the endeavor being something he doesn't fully comprehend or relate to. (Why should a motorcycle guy find dresses lovely? And onesies precious?)

I'm surrounded by bravery. Lately I seem to be letting personal goals evaporate. Why? Fear. Fear of failure. Fear of disappointing others. Fear of not getting everything done... I can't blame anyone but myself, though I'd like to. So enough of this anxiety already! Enough apathy! Embrace my inner courage!

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."

two of my brave peeps

three of my brave peeps

be the change you wish to see in the world

Like my new treasure? I'm still trying to figure out where to put the canvas. In the meantime, I'll keep it on my messy dining room. And try to absorb Gandhi's wise words.

After today's soccer game, our entire family went grocery shopping. (Any of you moms cringing at the idea of a family load tagging along?) It actually began quite lovely when my husband handed off a charitable donation to the local Boy Scout troupe for the food pantry. Good Karma. But when I saw the tribe lingering around the donuts, I knew we were in for a ride. I harshly waved them off the pile of pastries. Then we had our share of tiffs for the next hour. You see, I'm determined to reduce the amount of sugar we eat.

A friend of mine, who happens to be winning a battle with breast cancer, told me about research she's done on the correlation between sugar and cancer. It got me to thinking. Am I poisoning my kids? Every time I let them have another cupcake or Twinkie? Is it just one more step to their doom? Even if it's not cancer, certainly diabetes is a consideration. What kind of mother am I? Really? If I love my family, I'd teach them about healthier alternatives. It's easy to become lazy when you're in a constant state of drive, drive, drive. (Does anyone else agree that April rivals December in terms busYness?) I remember my best friend once telling me that she let her young daughter eat Cheetos once for breakfast. It was just one of those mornings. We've all been there. But it seems, I'm there too frequently. Giving in to Cheetos at breakfast, that is. Now It's time to toughen up. Feed my family right. Teach them how to eat. I need a mantra! Oh, I got it! "Long Live my Family."

It might take a little more work to wash the grapes, cut the apples, sauté some veggies, or even slice up some cheeses. But I think I can find some value in the activity...much more than opening a gooey wrapper.

If you're interested in reading more about the toxicity of sugar, take a look at this article from The New York Times Is Sugar Toxic? I found it thought-provoking.  And I know how I can make a small change in the world.

Remember Your Courage

So, I went to a women’s conference last week. And it seems I've been full of The Carpenters lately. You know. ”Such a feeling’s comin' over me. La la la la la la la la la la la. (Skip to chorus.) I’m on top of the wo-orld, lookin' down on cre-ation. And the only explanation I can find...hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.” I pretty much make up my own lyrics after that. The point is, I feel...wait for it...content. 

Some random observations as to why?

• Cole climbed a tree, like "Katniss." He's been playing the Hunger Games with his buddies–not as Avatars or online, as in going outside and re-enacting. No, not really killing other kids to the death. But he was GOING OUTSIDE! Alleluia.
• I decided to be more thankful for my job. It's a good job. Unemployment's rampant. And I'm working.
• It occurred to me that my most important purpose in this world is raising my kids. I can't believe the apple didn't hit me in the head sooner. Deep down I've always known that. So, I need to get those kids to more museums...like all the other good moms.
• My husband makes me laugh. It's why I picked him out of the whole bunch. (There really is a joke in that sentence. He'll get it.)
• When loved ones give you a health scare, perspective comes fast and furious. I will never hesitate to say I love you.
• This week my daughter, Alex, casted Michael Keaton to play the role of Julius Caesar. And of course Robert Downey Jr. will play Brutus! Genius. I like discussing these critical matters with my daughter.
• My parents saw The Hunger Games on Easter. They are a very cool retired couple.
• Lastly, I MET JEANNETTE WALLS! FAMOUS AUTHOR OF THE GLASS CASTLE THIS WEEK! IN A RESTROOM IN OMAHA! I just wrote a review of her book a few weeks ago in my other blog.  Admittedly, I was a bit star struck, so my words seemed to lounge around in my stomach. But she caught the drift of my communication and was quite lovely. I'm not sure if she considers me her new BFF, but she did address me by my first name. That's something.

Anyway, the best part of the week bedsides Easter? For the conference, we all had to come up with an "intention" upon registration. (This was done a few months ago, so I had not remembered what I had written.) As it turns out, I was surprised to see my intention as: 

"Remember my courage." 

Think I'll use it for the rest of 2012. It's applicable for just about any situation. Try it out.

The Spirit of Music

“Youth is wasted on the young.” 

The quote sneaks into my brain once in awhile. I often want to concede to it. But I’ve decided not this week. I believe someone also said, “You’re only as old as you think you are.” That's the maxim I'm subscribing to right now…makes me a little more self-assured.

My husband and I had the pleasure of watching our daughter (and her cohorts) perform at the vocal small group contest for the first time last Saturday. While the pieces weren’t technically perfect, they were pretty darned good—especially for a group of freshman girls. What I found most inspiring was the pluck, the spirit of all these teens! Singing Spanish tra-la-la's to make you smile, or folksy ballads to make you weep. I mean, these kids really felt the music…as did I! There was no rote memorization or forced expressions. Just lovely melodies and harmonies. When that kind of music is made, joy abounds.

It brought back memories. Music was a much bigger part of my life once. Listening. Performing. Sharing. Somewhere between twenty-nine and forty-two, I started to shut off my radio. Playing piano in front of a crowd began to make me nervous. You could say I started thinking like an adult–and really worrying about stuff. 

Turning off the music allowed me to meditate in silence or increase my knowledge by listening to NPR. (Just like my mom!) And silence is healthy—once in awhile. No one would disagree that NPR is engaging and informative. But perhaps, just perhaps I can wander into another channel to grasp a piece of that spirited youth by finding the music once again.

I started playing piano more. Making Alex sing some Norah Jones or Coldplay with me. (She loves that.) And when I accompanied the children’s Mass this week, I enjoyed it for the first time in a long time. No, it wasn't "technically perfect", but I felt the music. I even caught myself smiling a few times. (Who doesn't smile during "This Little Light of Mine"?)

Sometimes, I think God uses our children to help us to find our spirit. Oh goodness. I don’t “think” that. I know He does. My gratitude to my Alex for your voice...and your musical spirit.

The Dining Table

The other night my hubby was attempting to visit with me about one of the March Madness games. When I hesitated to respond as if I was clueless on the matter, he politely reminded me that we had been sitting in the living room watching the aforementioned game together.

"Oh, yeah," I explained myself. "Wasn't really watching though. I had to get caught up on some reading." This is completely true, btw. I have too much to read and too little time.

He chuckled at me.

"Why do you find that humorous?" I asked.

"I just don't understand why you think you need to fit four lifetimes into one."

I have a few plans. In no specific order, I'd like to

• Understand economics at all levels (as do many others right now),
• Master the art of business, 
• Win a Pulitzer by writing a simple novel about universal compassion,
• Raise remarkable children, and, of course,
• Create the charm of a Pottery Barn store in my home.

Of all of those goals, the last one really baffles me. At so many levels. I can't even get the dining room table right–something that can really set the tone of a house. As soon as I come home from work, it's the first piece of furniture I see. And I can barely see it. Allow myself to explain:

While my centerpiece of faux grass spikes fearlessly on the distressed dining table as a part of my rustic motif, I'm distracted by...clutter. Shin guards aerate! Overstuffed school bags collapse instead of hang on the hooks that were specifically made for them by the entrance! Baseball gloves await to go back outside! Endless drawings and paper shout, "Hey, waste about thirty minutes shuffling through me!" And amazingly, someone actually found enough surface to eat. You see, someone didn't take their dirty glass or plate to the dishwasher. It had to to be a kid. Who else would be enticed to eat at this sticky table? Not Martha Stewart, that's for sure. She'd be downright appalled.

I always thought that by this time in my life my dining room table would like something like this: 

Yes, with that backdrop for scenery. Maybe even with a Sheep dog sleeping underneath. Instead I have this:

Oh wait. I see it. The cute kid sitting there. Man, I love that boy. And his messes. And his sister's messes. And his father's messes. Guess, my table is pretty dang awesome after all. Pottery Barn can have their uncluttered perfect table. I'll keep mine.