Doing this NaBloPoMo challenge is exactly that- a challenge. It doesn't sound so hard to blog every day for thirty days in a row, but some days it's more difficult than you would imagine. Let's face it, I'm just seriously not that interesting! Sometimes I do nothing notable for an entire day.
Today, for example, was an extremely lazy Sunday. The Man was preparing to leave for his new job, planning to return later in the week. He didn't really want to go to church, preferring to hang out and spend some quality time before the routine changes. So we slept in, ate French toast, played, and just generally lounged about.
We did pick up some boxes and packing tape, so I guess that's an accomplishment. But perhaps more noteworthy, I got my three year old to not only eat kale, but to declare it "super yummy!". That, I'd say, is the most satisfying accomplishment of my day.
Sometimes I'm easily satisfied.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Giving it Up
As I mentioned in an earlier post, we're contemplating a move. The Man has been through all the meetings and negotiations, and it now comes down to a decision on our part. Do we stay or do we go?
I'm not really an obsessive person. I'm actually pretty relaxed, in most circumstances. But when I have a big decision to make, I can't stop going over and over it in my mind. I think about it, I pray about it, I make lists of the pros and cons, I talk it over with friends and family...I blog about it.
Over the past few days, I started to have the nagging feeling that I was getting too tangled up in emotions to think clearly, and too circular in my thoughts to hear any answers to my prayers. I started redirecting my prayers, turning them from pleas for a sign on the decision to a request for clarity on what's me and what's more than me. And suddenly, I had an answer:
"The decision belongs to your husband."
Huh? Yeah, ok, but we're partners. I'm hardly a strident feminist, but there is a certain equality that I treasure in our marriage...
"The decision belongs to your husband. You chose him as your husband, let him make this choice."
Ok, that definitely did NOT come from my own brain. My brain is the one that almost lost my last baby because I was so convinced that the world would stop revolving if I slowed down at all, stopped making all the decisions, stopped trying to save everyone.
I paused to consider what I was hearing. I allowed myself to become quiet, in my person, and in my mind. And the interesting thing is, I felt a sudden peace about the situation, once I made the choice to allow the decision to belong to the Man. It was liberating.
And here's another interesting thing. My typically indecisive husband thanked me for stepping back, and he quietly but firmly made a decision. We will be moving. Whether it's long term remains to be seen, and I've requested that he keep an ear to the ground for opportunities here in our beloved home, but for now, the decision has been made.
Having given up that piece of control, I'm really at peace with the whole thing.
I'm not really an obsessive person. I'm actually pretty relaxed, in most circumstances. But when I have a big decision to make, I can't stop going over and over it in my mind. I think about it, I pray about it, I make lists of the pros and cons, I talk it over with friends and family...I blog about it.
Over the past few days, I started to have the nagging feeling that I was getting too tangled up in emotions to think clearly, and too circular in my thoughts to hear any answers to my prayers. I started redirecting my prayers, turning them from pleas for a sign on the decision to a request for clarity on what's me and what's more than me. And suddenly, I had an answer:
"The decision belongs to your husband."
Huh? Yeah, ok, but we're partners. I'm hardly a strident feminist, but there is a certain equality that I treasure in our marriage...
"The decision belongs to your husband. You chose him as your husband, let him make this choice."
Ok, that definitely did NOT come from my own brain. My brain is the one that almost lost my last baby because I was so convinced that the world would stop revolving if I slowed down at all, stopped making all the decisions, stopped trying to save everyone.
I paused to consider what I was hearing. I allowed myself to become quiet, in my person, and in my mind. And the interesting thing is, I felt a sudden peace about the situation, once I made the choice to allow the decision to belong to the Man. It was liberating.
And here's another interesting thing. My typically indecisive husband thanked me for stepping back, and he quietly but firmly made a decision. We will be moving. Whether it's long term remains to be seen, and I've requested that he keep an ear to the ground for opportunities here in our beloved home, but for now, the decision has been made.
Having given up that piece of control, I'm really at peace with the whole thing.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Hope
I am not tall. This is actually an understatement, as I am five foot two inches, taller than very few of my friends and acquaintances, short by any standards. When my son was a preteen and got excited about outgrowing me, I had to burst his bubble and point out that, even for a twelve year old, this is not such an accomplishment.
Most household tasks I handle quite well, and don't consider my height an impediment. But this year, I decided to grow my tomatoes upside down- (all the cool kids are doing it, it seems)- in one of those containers meant to be hung from the eaves. This was a dilemma for me, not only because my height makes all things eaves-related daunting,
but also because the package also specified "full sun", and our eaves are rather shady. I thought I'd solved the problem brilliantly when I purchased a shepherd's hook for the garden, but while I was out of town, it became apparent to the Man that the shepherd's hook was no match for the heavy planter. His solution was to hang it on the hammock.
I argued that this was not a good spot, because it was too low to the ground, and I encouraged him to hang it from the eaves by the front door, which was my mother's suggestion. He did not. This was great news for the bunnies who live in our yard, because it was directly within their reach, which was, of course, bad news for the tomato plant.
The delighted little bunnies chewed it down to a nub, at which point the Man acquiesced, and decided it was time to move it to the front eaves. I was doubtful that it would make any difference at this point, as it was literally a sad little leafless green nub, but today when I went to water it, I saw this:
I don't know if you can see it, but there's a sprout on the bottom, a little green leaf midway up, and, right where it meets the container, a new little shoot has sprouted it's own leaves and grown about an inch long.
That, in my opinion, is what hope looks like.
Most household tasks I handle quite well, and don't consider my height an impediment. But this year, I decided to grow my tomatoes upside down- (all the cool kids are doing it, it seems)- in one of those containers meant to be hung from the eaves. This was a dilemma for me, not only because my height makes all things eaves-related daunting,
but also because the package also specified "full sun", and our eaves are rather shady. I thought I'd solved the problem brilliantly when I purchased a shepherd's hook for the garden, but while I was out of town, it became apparent to the Man that the shepherd's hook was no match for the heavy planter. His solution was to hang it on the hammock.
I argued that this was not a good spot, because it was too low to the ground, and I encouraged him to hang it from the eaves by the front door, which was my mother's suggestion. He did not. This was great news for the bunnies who live in our yard, because it was directly within their reach, which was, of course, bad news for the tomato plant.
The delighted little bunnies chewed it down to a nub, at which point the Man acquiesced, and decided it was time to move it to the front eaves. I was doubtful that it would make any difference at this point, as it was literally a sad little leafless green nub, but today when I went to water it, I saw this:
I don't know if you can see it, but there's a sprout on the bottom, a little green leaf midway up, and, right where it meets the container, a new little shoot has sprouted it's own leaves and grown about an inch long.
That, in my opinion, is what hope looks like.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Summer Start
The definition of a cockeyed optimist, in my opinion, is someone who knows full well that she has a preschooler, and yet tells people she will leave her house in ten minutes. I'm not sure why I always do that, overestimate my own ability to be a superhero, but I always truly believe in what I'm saying, even though I realize that ultimately it makes me look like a flake. I'm not a flake, I just overextend.
We did eventually get to where we were going today, and where we were going was a playdate with our dear friends. Small One was excited to get into her bathing suit for the first time this year, and who can blame her? These two girls are awfully cute in their swimwear.
They were shooting water rockets and playing with the hose, and there was initial trepidation- they kept saying "this water is too wet!"
I found this funny, because isn't that pretty much the definition of water? They got over it, though, because who can resist the allure of playing with your own personal rainbow?
It gave me a general sense of well being, watching these sweet girls play. I love Summer almost as much as I love Spring, though for different reasons. I love Spring because of the lush beauty of it, the aspect of rebirth after the Winter, the gorgeous bursts of color everywhere you turn. I love Summer for the laziness. Summer is Spring's more laid back sibling, shaking its head over Spring's excesses, from the vantage point of a hammock in the shade. As with every hammock lying creature, Summer is burnt out after a few months, but these first days are wonderful, to be sure.
Middle Child finishes the school year tomorrow, and there are many changes coming in our lives very soon. But for now, I just really want this Summer, the lazy days, a time to kick back with my children and enjoy the people they are. I'm grateful for today, for just that sort of opportunity, to start the Summer the right way, with friends and water and ice cream and rainbows. Here's to many more days like this!
We did eventually get to where we were going today, and where we were going was a playdate with our dear friends. Small One was excited to get into her bathing suit for the first time this year, and who can blame her? These two girls are awfully cute in their swimwear.
They were shooting water rockets and playing with the hose, and there was initial trepidation- they kept saying "this water is too wet!"
I found this funny, because isn't that pretty much the definition of water? They got over it, though, because who can resist the allure of playing with your own personal rainbow?
It gave me a general sense of well being, watching these sweet girls play. I love Summer almost as much as I love Spring, though for different reasons. I love Spring because of the lush beauty of it, the aspect of rebirth after the Winter, the gorgeous bursts of color everywhere you turn. I love Summer for the laziness. Summer is Spring's more laid back sibling, shaking its head over Spring's excesses, from the vantage point of a hammock in the shade. As with every hammock lying creature, Summer is burnt out after a few months, but these first days are wonderful, to be sure.Middle Child finishes the school year tomorrow, and there are many changes coming in our lives very soon. But for now, I just really want this Summer, the lazy days, a time to kick back with my children and enjoy the people they are. I'm grateful for today, for just that sort of opportunity, to start the Summer the right way, with friends and water and ice cream and rainbows. Here's to many more days like this!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Today
Today marked two momentous gatherings. The first was a meeting my dear Man attended, in which he was more or less offered a job in another town, four hours from here. (I say more or less because there's an additional meeting in the morning, to wrap up the details.)
The gathering of which I was a part was the final class of the year for my Small One. I don't think she quite understands that preschool is over for the year, and I don't think her classmates realize it either, but I could tell from their faces that it was a bittersweet moment for many of the moms. Childhood goes too quickly, and every milestone is just another reminder that they're moving on to the next age, the next phase. It was a great time, this morning, and the teachers gave us these wonderful keepsake books chronicling our children's first year of preschool, but even looking through the books pointed out how far they've come in a year, and how quickly they're continuing to go.
It was particularly emotional for me, though, because if the Man takes this job (and he really should, it's a significant pay raise), my Small will not be back at that school next year. As much as I'm trying to keep a stiff upper lip about it, for the good of the family, that makes me incredibly sad. I really wanted her to stay at that school until kindergarten. The school is part of our church, and we've been at that church, and in this town, for thirteen years. I'm sure that there will be many positive things about moving away, but I'm not in a place to see them yet. My friends are here, my community is here, my life is here.
My bank is here. Small One and I stopped by the bank today after the preschool party. We bank at a local bank, with free popcorn in the lobby and tellers that have doted on Small since she was much smaller. We opened our account the month after we got married, and everyone there knows us by name. I mentioned to one of the women there today that this move may be in the works, and she shook her head adamantly. "You go on and move then," she said, "because I know the money's good, but the baby stays HERE, with us. Don't worry, Mama, we'll take good care of her!"
We laughed, and I made the usual comment, about not being able to manage without her. But it makes me wonder- how will I find another such bank?
The gathering of which I was a part was the final class of the year for my Small One. I don't think she quite understands that preschool is over for the year, and I don't think her classmates realize it either, but I could tell from their faces that it was a bittersweet moment for many of the moms. Childhood goes too quickly, and every milestone is just another reminder that they're moving on to the next age, the next phase. It was a great time, this morning, and the teachers gave us these wonderful keepsake books chronicling our children's first year of preschool, but even looking through the books pointed out how far they've come in a year, and how quickly they're continuing to go.
It was particularly emotional for me, though, because if the Man takes this job (and he really should, it's a significant pay raise), my Small will not be back at that school next year. As much as I'm trying to keep a stiff upper lip about it, for the good of the family, that makes me incredibly sad. I really wanted her to stay at that school until kindergarten. The school is part of our church, and we've been at that church, and in this town, for thirteen years. I'm sure that there will be many positive things about moving away, but I'm not in a place to see them yet. My friends are here, my community is here, my life is here.
My bank is here. Small One and I stopped by the bank today after the preschool party. We bank at a local bank, with free popcorn in the lobby and tellers that have doted on Small since she was much smaller. We opened our account the month after we got married, and everyone there knows us by name. I mentioned to one of the women there today that this move may be in the works, and she shook her head adamantly. "You go on and move then," she said, "because I know the money's good, but the baby stays HERE, with us. Don't worry, Mama, we'll take good care of her!"
We laughed, and I made the usual comment, about not being able to manage without her. But it makes me wonder- how will I find another such bank?
Monday, May 17, 2010
Jiggety Jig
I'm home again, and happy to be here. It seems like I've been perpetually on the road lately, and I feel like I'm behind in every area of my life- stalled out by too much time in other places, not enough attention to my own world. I'm trying to get caught up, but I'm mindful of the fact that I will probably be back on the road within the next couple of weeks, so I feel a real time crunch. I'm trying to arrange time with friends, set up meetings regarding new opportunities, tend to the garden and pets, and clean the house.
Cleaning the house, to be honest, feels a lot like digging to China with a teaspoon. I'll start in the living room, for example, dusting, sweeping, and mopping, move on to the dining room, head to the kitchen, and, feeling a great sense of accomplishment, walk through the living room to put something away, only to find that the fur on the floor is equivalent to the fur I removed ten minutes earlier. In addition, having a teenager and a preschooler in the house assures that for every piece of clutter I put away, two more pieces spring, unbidden, to take its place. It's frustrating, to be sure. I'm scooping away with the spoon, and China is never any closer.
If I'm being truly honest, I will also admit that we have a minor hoarding problem. Well, ok, it may be more than minor, but I promise it's not like the people on A&E, but I do feel a sad sort of kinship with those people when I watch the show. I don't have cable, so I really only watch the show when I'm visiting my sister, and then I'm sitting alone, after she has gone to bed, in horror, unable to look away. The problem with that show is that those people have experts that come and fix them, which I must admit makes me insanely jealous, because I want someone to come hold my hand and say to me "It doesn't matter if your grandmother gave it to you, it's a polka dotted suit, and you won't wear it, so give it away!" Or "No, you actually don't need that broken hair clip or the egg dipping wires from Easter."
No one comes to do that. No one holds my hand. So I have to tell myself that I don't need those egg dippers, when in fact I put up a pretty good argument for keeping them, since most egg dyeing sets only come with one dipper and we all have to share. Wouldn't it be more convenient if we each had our own? The problem is, by next Easter I will have forgotten where I put the wires, even if I've made every attempt to find a logical spot for them.
I'm also, of course, perpetually struggling with my darling Man's idea of recycling. I believe I've mentioned his recycling technique in a previous blog entry, but to recap, he puts things in my way until I can't stand it any longer and a)throw them away, b)figure out somewhere to take them, or c)throw a fit that causes him to put them in his car. I'm not sure that leaving egg cartons and plastic bags in his car is actually considered recycling, but at least they're not in a landfill, right? My soapbox of the day is batteries. We have two junk drawers in the kitchen, and over half of each drawer is full of dead batteries! What am I to do with those? I have no idea. More research is needed, I suppose. For today, I've closed the drawers and I'm pretending they aren't there.
I had a small victory today, though. I'm actually proud enough of it to share, and if any of my dear readers have a hoarding issue like mine, you'll appreciate the enormity of this accomplishment. I threw away my wedding bouquet. Because, after almost ten years of marriage, I have come to terms with the fact that, since I'm keeping the Man, and I have photographic documentation, it's rather pointless to keep a dried out, unattractive, somewhat dusty bouquet. China, here I come!
Cleaning the house, to be honest, feels a lot like digging to China with a teaspoon. I'll start in the living room, for example, dusting, sweeping, and mopping, move on to the dining room, head to the kitchen, and, feeling a great sense of accomplishment, walk through the living room to put something away, only to find that the fur on the floor is equivalent to the fur I removed ten minutes earlier. In addition, having a teenager and a preschooler in the house assures that for every piece of clutter I put away, two more pieces spring, unbidden, to take its place. It's frustrating, to be sure. I'm scooping away with the spoon, and China is never any closer.
If I'm being truly honest, I will also admit that we have a minor hoarding problem. Well, ok, it may be more than minor, but I promise it's not like the people on A&E, but I do feel a sad sort of kinship with those people when I watch the show. I don't have cable, so I really only watch the show when I'm visiting my sister, and then I'm sitting alone, after she has gone to bed, in horror, unable to look away. The problem with that show is that those people have experts that come and fix them, which I must admit makes me insanely jealous, because I want someone to come hold my hand and say to me "It doesn't matter if your grandmother gave it to you, it's a polka dotted suit, and you won't wear it, so give it away!" Or "No, you actually don't need that broken hair clip or the egg dipping wires from Easter."
No one comes to do that. No one holds my hand. So I have to tell myself that I don't need those egg dippers, when in fact I put up a pretty good argument for keeping them, since most egg dyeing sets only come with one dipper and we all have to share. Wouldn't it be more convenient if we each had our own? The problem is, by next Easter I will have forgotten where I put the wires, even if I've made every attempt to find a logical spot for them.
I'm also, of course, perpetually struggling with my darling Man's idea of recycling. I believe I've mentioned his recycling technique in a previous blog entry, but to recap, he puts things in my way until I can't stand it any longer and a)throw them away, b)figure out somewhere to take them, or c)throw a fit that causes him to put them in his car. I'm not sure that leaving egg cartons and plastic bags in his car is actually considered recycling, but at least they're not in a landfill, right? My soapbox of the day is batteries. We have two junk drawers in the kitchen, and over half of each drawer is full of dead batteries! What am I to do with those? I have no idea. More research is needed, I suppose. For today, I've closed the drawers and I'm pretending they aren't there.
I had a small victory today, though. I'm actually proud enough of it to share, and if any of my dear readers have a hoarding issue like mine, you'll appreciate the enormity of this accomplishment. I threw away my wedding bouquet. Because, after almost ten years of marriage, I have come to terms with the fact that, since I'm keeping the Man, and I have photographic documentation, it's rather pointless to keep a dried out, unattractive, somewhat dusty bouquet. China, here I come!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Silly Sunday Part 2
It's just not a party until my mom teaches a clinic on how to make flatulent sounds with the hands. (Because you never know when you might need to know that!) Poor video quality, but you get the idea.
Silly Sunday
Someone had too much to drink at my birthday celebration. Hint: it wasn't me, and the beverage in question was water.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
No Moon Pies THIS Time
So, today was my birthday, and we're in Nashville. I have some family up here- my aunt and uncle, cousin and her family, and of course, my sister. Additionally, my mom's up here this weekend, because of the Alias show last night, so it was nice timing to have a family celebration for my birthday.
We had my birthday in Nashville last year, too, but that was a little bit different. It was the brainchild of my sweet young sister-in-law, who thought it would be fun to combine my birthday and her bachelorette party, and make a weekend of it. It was a lot of fun, I will say, but involved a lot of drinking, as well. In fact, this afternoon my sister-in-law and I were trying to reassemble the order in which we visited various places that weekend, and were pitifully inept. As the song says, blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol.
This weekend had a different tone. Unlike last year, we did not have bachelorette party girls with us, and, also unlike last year, we did have the Man and Small One in tow- so the venues were tamer, the fun more family friendly. Last night, of course, we went to my sister's show, and during intermission, my aunt asked me if we wanted to go to the Moon Pie festival.
"There's a Moon Pie festival?" I asked, incredulously.
"Sure!" she exclaimed, "Do you know how many flavors of Moon Pie there are? A LOT of flavors. AND they deep fry them. AND there's R.C. Cola."
Well, now, I ask you- who could resist an event like that? So I said that of course I'd want to go, and then I asked what time they were leaving. She said 8:30. I paused for a moment, certain I'd misheard, but no. 8:30. In the MORNING. Because if you don't grab that first Moon Pie before 9, you've wasted your day? Nevertheless, despite my personal "no Moon Pies before noon" philosophy, we decided to go.
Arriving home, I puttered around a bit, then at about 1am thought I might check out the Moon Pie festival online. Turns out, it wasn't this weekend at all! I'm really glad I figured that out, though, because there actually was some sort of biker gathering in the town to which we were headed, and I would have been deeply upset to have gotten up early on my birthday to go see bikers. We regrouped, and decided to go to the Strawberry Festival in Portland, TN.
It was a wonderful day, overall, and I very much enjoyed having a chance to visit with my family. We ate lovely strawberry shortcake- really, top notch, and probably too much of it. And Small One had fun bouncing,
We had my birthday in Nashville last year, too, but that was a little bit different. It was the brainchild of my sweet young sister-in-law, who thought it would be fun to combine my birthday and her bachelorette party, and make a weekend of it. It was a lot of fun, I will say, but involved a lot of drinking, as well. In fact, this afternoon my sister-in-law and I were trying to reassemble the order in which we visited various places that weekend, and were pitifully inept. As the song says, blame it on the a-a-a-a-alcohol.
This weekend had a different tone. Unlike last year, we did not have bachelorette party girls with us, and, also unlike last year, we did have the Man and Small One in tow- so the venues were tamer, the fun more family friendly. Last night, of course, we went to my sister's show, and during intermission, my aunt asked me if we wanted to go to the Moon Pie festival.
"There's a Moon Pie festival?" I asked, incredulously.
"Sure!" she exclaimed, "Do you know how many flavors of Moon Pie there are? A LOT of flavors. AND they deep fry them. AND there's R.C. Cola."
Well, now, I ask you- who could resist an event like that? So I said that of course I'd want to go, and then I asked what time they were leaving. She said 8:30. I paused for a moment, certain I'd misheard, but no. 8:30. In the MORNING. Because if you don't grab that first Moon Pie before 9, you've wasted your day? Nevertheless, despite my personal "no Moon Pies before noon" philosophy, we decided to go.
Arriving home, I puttered around a bit, then at about 1am thought I might check out the Moon Pie festival online. Turns out, it wasn't this weekend at all! I'm really glad I figured that out, though, because there actually was some sort of biker gathering in the town to which we were headed, and I would have been deeply upset to have gotten up early on my birthday to go see bikers. We regrouped, and decided to go to the Strawberry Festival in Portland, TN.
It was a wonderful day, overall, and I very much enjoyed having a chance to visit with my family. We ate lovely strawberry shortcake- really, top notch, and probably too much of it. And Small One had fun bouncing,
climbing,
and sliding down various inflatable things.
which I wouldn't have expected, since it was roughly three hundred and eight degrees outside today. I also found out what the Six Million Dollar Man has been up to since 1999:
and sliding down various inflatable things.
I learned a few things today, as well, like this:
which I wouldn't have expected, since it was roughly three hundred and eight degrees outside today. I also found out what the Six Million Dollar Man has been up to since 1999:
That's really good, I think- good to see him staying busy. But the biggest revelation at the Strawberry Festival was some of the crafts. I'd been blissfully unaware, until today, that people made hair bows out of bottle caps! Were you aware? I didn't get a picture, but you can get the idea out of this one I found online. You get the idea, though, and I can't figure out where one might wear these unless it is to some sort of pageant. A pageant for the tacky, perhaps.
The biggest surprise to me, though, was the garden hose wreaths. I mean, nothing says "Welcome to Our Home" like a big old garden hose hanging on your front door. Thanks, Strawberry Festival folks, for the idea- I'm going to go put on one my door the instant I can manage it.
The biggest surprise to me, though, was the garden hose wreaths. I mean, nothing says "Welcome to Our Home" like a big old garden hose hanging on your front door. Thanks, Strawberry Festival folks, for the idea- I'm going to go put on one my door the instant I can manage it.
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