OK, I'm not trying to depress anyone here, just calling it like it is...
Well, here I sit on the last day of my kid’s summer vacation. It’s a day I don’t adore; a day I don’t look forward to, a day I wish would never come. It signifies that another year of adventure and growth has come and gone and a new one is about to start. Not that I don’t look forward to new adventure and growth, I do, I’m just never ready for my kids to “grow up” to that next grade level.
Think about it, kids grow up at the end of summers. They go from old 4th graders to new 5th graders. From Jr. High kids to high-school students, from their bedrooms to their college dorm rooms; it all happens at the end of August. This year is no different and I’m not ready.
When I look at my kid’s pictures, I notice that they aren’t frozen moments taken in early January, with the start of a new calendar year; they are taken in early September with the start of a new school year. I notice the differences in their face shapes and sideways grins and wonder how I missed those subtleties that must have occurred right in front of me. Although I’m excited for my children – new friends, new rules, new academic challenges; I’m sad, just a little, for myself. I think back on the events of the last year and realize that I don’t really remember all that much. I make a mental note to take more pictures, say “yes” more often, give hugs and kisses generously (I think I do this pretty well), and pay attention to everything that happens in the next crazy year.
I really should be prepared for this day; each year, there are tell-tale signs that the end of August is nearing. Back-to-School supply areas begin popping up in stores. Kids become anxious about whether they’ll get a top or bottom locker (most like top, by the way). They compare who has what teacher and start requesting specific notebook themes and colors. They may ask questions about whether they should try out for clubs and sports, or hope out-loud that certain kids are in their classes. They may worry that their clothes aren’t cute enough, their hair isn’t long enough, or their jeans aren’t tight enough. They may decide they are ready to wear make-up or request an Oakley backpack. They may let you know that they will be taking their lunch in a brown paper bag – no more lunch-box, or that they will be buying their lunch this year. They may want to carry a purse, or request to take their i-touch on the bus. They may want you to drive them to school so they don’t have to take the bus at all. Your kids might want to stay up later at night, now that they are in an older grade. They might feel the need to have their own yahoo account or their own car. The list could go on and on…children continue to grow and mature and you continue to wonder how they got there so fast.
So as I sit here on the last day of my kids’ summer vacation, I relish the fact that I am still needed. I have shoes to buy, backpacks to locate and schedules to plan. Before I get started on those tasks, however, I am putting a new memory stick in my camera, so I’m prepared for all those changes my kids are about to make.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Life...It Is What It Is
“Mom, do you like your life?”
I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.
I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.
I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.
I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…
“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.
Margaret
I froze for a second. I was caught completely off guard. I was in the middle of emptying the dishwasher and explaining to my children (again) why everyone DOES need to pitch-in with daily chores. I had been talking out-loud about the long list of wait-till-the-very-last-possible-moment-to-get-done items, the cost of braces, the impossibility of our activity schedule, and the necessity of dinner.
I look across the counter at the honest, adorable, intent, questioning face of my 10 year-old son. “Well, do you?” he inquired again.
I flashed back to my wedding day, still the happiest day of my life. I saw the quick births of my children, my first house, and my college graduation. I remembered puking babies, sleep deprived nights, screaming car trips, and petty fighting. I saw medical bills, food bills, daycare fees, and house payments. I saw spilled juice on the carpet, pee on the brand new couch, and food stuck in the crevices of the car. I remembered all the diapers, the wipes, the toys, the bottles, the books, the games and the laundry. I had no time for myself, no time for my husband, and no time for my friends. I remembered pretending to sleep, hoping someone else -anyone else - would go get the crying child. Now the youngest of those crying children is 10, and asking me if I liked my life.
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I remembered all the grins, giggles, laughing, dancing, singing and being silly. I remembered family pictures, Christmas cards, bike rides, campfires, coloring, play-doh, finger-paint, swim lessons, back yard kick-ball, hide-and-seek, and bedtime monsters. I remembered the smells of freshly baked cookies and freshly bathed kids. I relived daily routines, butterfly kisses, bedtime stories, prayers, confessions, and finally silence. I remembered school programs, sports practices, piano lessons, birthday parties, Halloween costumes, Christmas mornings, sleep-overs, zoo trips, and snuggle time.
I remember discussions about what Big Bird might eat for breakfast, why grown-ups got to stay up late, and why cookies aren’t a meal. More recently they include curfew, driving, dating, sexting, parties, cliques, trips, manners, attitude, behavior, grades, and daily chores. It may not be what I had planned it to be, but…
“Yes” I said, “I love my life”.
Margaret
Friday, July 9, 2010
Ok, So I'm a Dweller
I’ll admit it, I’m a Dweller. I re-think, re-play, re-live, analyze, question, talk about, dissect, etc… a situation before I can be done with it. It can be a happy event, or a disturbing event. It can be funny, messy, personal, relative, realistic, uplifting or upsetting. It can even be something that happened to someone else. In whatever way I am affected, I always find something I wish I had done, said, or thought differently; and I dwell on it. Finally, I accept the fact that I cannot change the outcome, no matter how much energy I spend on it, and I begin to move on to a new dwelling event. I do not know what to do about my habit. I am not open to taking medication to control my thoughts. Whatever thoughts I have, they are truly my thoughts and I like that. But I do not like dwelling.
My husband, on the other hand, is a Roller. He is able to experience any situation, react however he happens to react, accept it, and then let it roll. He rarely re-thinks, re-plays, re-lives, analyzes, questions, talks about or dissects a situation more than once (to tell me about it). His stand is “I can’t do anymore about it now, so what’s the point?” He’s right. I want to be a Roller. I’m working on Rolling. But I am still a Dweller.
I am also a “what if”er and “if only”er. I don’t think I’m the only one to play that game. I think (sometimes out loud) to myself “What if I did THIS?”, Or “If only I’d done THAT”. I convince myself that the story would have a different ending, but actually, it would just have a different set of “what if”s and” if only”s to ponder. Why do I do that? I think I know the answer…
I’m an emotional person. I think with my head and with my heart. If my head and my heart are telling me the same thing, I can usually accept the outcome of my actions. It’s when my head tells me one thing and my heart another that I find myself dwelling about my actions.
When what you know, what you think, and what you feel are different, you have options, and options create opportunities; opportunities create choices, and what you choose is your action. What you don’t choose becomes your “what if” and your “if only”. Dwellers focus on the options they didn’t use. We save them, feed them, and let them enter our minds. Rollers focus on the option they did use, and wad up the leftovers and roll them away.
I want to be a Roller…I will learn to roll.
Margaret
My husband, on the other hand, is a Roller. He is able to experience any situation, react however he happens to react, accept it, and then let it roll. He rarely re-thinks, re-plays, re-lives, analyzes, questions, talks about or dissects a situation more than once (to tell me about it). His stand is “I can’t do anymore about it now, so what’s the point?” He’s right. I want to be a Roller. I’m working on Rolling. But I am still a Dweller.
I am also a “what if”er and “if only”er. I don’t think I’m the only one to play that game. I think (sometimes out loud) to myself “What if I did THIS?”, Or “If only I’d done THAT”. I convince myself that the story would have a different ending, but actually, it would just have a different set of “what if”s and” if only”s to ponder. Why do I do that? I think I know the answer…
I’m an emotional person. I think with my head and with my heart. If my head and my heart are telling me the same thing, I can usually accept the outcome of my actions. It’s when my head tells me one thing and my heart another that I find myself dwelling about my actions.
When what you know, what you think, and what you feel are different, you have options, and options create opportunities; opportunities create choices, and what you choose is your action. What you don’t choose becomes your “what if” and your “if only”. Dwellers focus on the options they didn’t use. We save them, feed them, and let them enter our minds. Rollers focus on the option they did use, and wad up the leftovers and roll them away.
I want to be a Roller…I will learn to roll.
Margaret
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Flowers and People
Yesterday I set out to buy flowers. I love shopping for flowers. I don’t know much about any variety, but I enjoy the colors of the blooms and the aura of the gardens. I walked up and down every aisle, just looking. I paid attention to the size of the plants and the amount of sun they needed to thrive. I grabbed a cart and headed through again; taking more time to study the particulars for ones I thought I could grow most successfully. I was completely, blissfully overwhelmed. I ended up in the “distressed plants” area, where the flowers had been significantly marked down, in hopes that somebody would buy them. I did. This way, I figured, if they died, I’d not be out a lot of money. I left with a variety of tiny yellow, medium sized pink, and two red (kind of blooming), flowers. I bought green spikes, plants with dark red leaves, and purple somethings, all of which were withering and needed attention. I was relieved and excited to take my new treasures home to create beautiful pots for my back deck.
That’s when I got to thinking…aren’t people like plants? We come in different varieties and sizes and we all have different needs. Some of us are “sunny” and others are not. Some have big, bright, colorful blooms, while others are plush with no color at all. Some of us are healthy, others are withered. Some grab attention without trying, and others exist without notice. Some people need a lot of attention and want everything to be “just right” before blooming, while others bloom with little or no attention at all. Some people are climbers, grabbing whatever is available to help them grow tall and strong, other people are more comfortable staying low, moving and creeping along the ground. Some of us need rich soil to grow, while others can spring up through rocks and sand. Some people take root in our gardens and stay forever, returning year after year without thought; others take root for a season, and then are gone until they are planted again.
I wonder if I appreciate the people in my life the way I appreciate flowers. Have I paid attention to what they need to grow? Am I watering them often enough? Am I allowing them to bloom when they are ready, or rushing them because I am ready? Am I accepting them for who they are? Do I focus only on what they look like? Do I plant them carefully, and nurture them accordingly? Do I notice their growth and marvel at their blooms? When they begin to wither, do I take the time to help them heal? Do I offer them sunshine as well as rain? Do I love them enough? Do I show that I love them? Do they know that I love them?
Humm… Maybe I should expand my garden and plant it in a corner of my yard. I could tend to it daily, prune it as necessary, nurture a variety of plants and enjoy more than a few withered flowers in pots on my back deck.
Margaret
That’s when I got to thinking…aren’t people like plants? We come in different varieties and sizes and we all have different needs. Some of us are “sunny” and others are not. Some have big, bright, colorful blooms, while others are plush with no color at all. Some of us are healthy, others are withered. Some grab attention without trying, and others exist without notice. Some people need a lot of attention and want everything to be “just right” before blooming, while others bloom with little or no attention at all. Some people are climbers, grabbing whatever is available to help them grow tall and strong, other people are more comfortable staying low, moving and creeping along the ground. Some of us need rich soil to grow, while others can spring up through rocks and sand. Some people take root in our gardens and stay forever, returning year after year without thought; others take root for a season, and then are gone until they are planted again.
I wonder if I appreciate the people in my life the way I appreciate flowers. Have I paid attention to what they need to grow? Am I watering them often enough? Am I allowing them to bloom when they are ready, or rushing them because I am ready? Am I accepting them for who they are? Do I focus only on what they look like? Do I plant them carefully, and nurture them accordingly? Do I notice their growth and marvel at their blooms? When they begin to wither, do I take the time to help them heal? Do I offer them sunshine as well as rain? Do I love them enough? Do I show that I love them? Do they know that I love them?
Humm… Maybe I should expand my garden and plant it in a corner of my yard. I could tend to it daily, prune it as necessary, nurture a variety of plants and enjoy more than a few withered flowers in pots on my back deck.
Margaret
Friday, June 18, 2010
Ummm, Truth Please
Sometimes I wonder…in any subjective situation, is it realistic to have just one “truth”? I mean, we all know there are two sides to every story, so how come there is only one truth? Ponder that. I can think of stories where the facts don’t add up to the truth. Does that mean someone lied? What if the final truth doesn’t match your version of the story, but you know you are right? Can you convince someone that “your” truth is “the” truth? I think you can if their perception of the situation is similar to yours. Perception is what matters. I believe that perception is reality, and people’s realities are their truths. So, what is true for one person, based on their perception, may not be true for another, and both people are correct.
So, based on my application of perception, it is realistic to have more than one truth. And to appreciate other people’s truths, you must be willing to look at the situation from their perception, to enter their reality.
Wow, that’s enough thinking for today, I’m tired (and that’s the truth!).
Margaret
So, based on my application of perception, it is realistic to have more than one truth. And to appreciate other people’s truths, you must be willing to look at the situation from their perception, to enter their reality.
Wow, that’s enough thinking for today, I’m tired (and that’s the truth!).
Margaret
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Little House in the City
Sometimes I wonder…If my house was bigger, more updated, or more unique, would I be more content with it? I wonder this because, as many of you know, I’m not really crazy about my house. I knew I didn’t love it when I signed my name on the purchase agreement, so I have no one to blame but myself. I think my house is “nice”, its “cute”, its “adequate”, its “comfortable”, and its “cozy”; but it isn’t “me”. Will it become “me” with time? Will I grow to love it?
There are things about my house that I do love: I love the kitchen, the wall colors, and the spa tub (in the basement). I love the lake, and the big back deck. But, the house I live in is similar to so many other houses, and I’ve never been similar to others...does living in a cookie-cutter house make me a cookie-cutter person? Does that fact that I settled on a house mean that I’ve settled as a person? What other things will I be willing to settle on?
Why did I buy this house, you might be wondering, and why don’t I just move again? Those are questions I won’t delve into right now, but I will say that my reasons are valid. The fact is that I did buy it and now I have to live with that decision.
So, would I be more content with my house if it were bigger, updated, and more unique? Maybe I would, but I wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about it, and that is what has helped me learn a few things. I now know that, for me, a bigger house simply means watching TV in a bigger room. I think I’d be doing the same things regardless of the size of my house, and I’m doing the things I love. Aside from eating in a formal dining room, my house accommodates everything I love to do in it. I feel blessed to have this priority in place. I have also learned that, no matter how updated my house might have been when I bought it, there would still be many things I’d want to change in it. Upgrades would mean nothing if the final product didn’t reflect my personal tastes. I’m lucky to get to decide for myself what upgrades to make, and when. Finally, I have learned that my house might look similar to other houses on the outside, but if I can make it “my” house, the feeling on the inside will be like no other. It’s the way you feel about something that makes it unique.
I know why I bought this little house, even though I didn’t love it. And now, after many hours of reflections, I have even more reasons to like it. I’m over 40, and it’s taken all this time and a special little house to make me really understand that it’s not what you have that matters, it’s how you feel about what you have that matters.
Margaret
There are things about my house that I do love: I love the kitchen, the wall colors, and the spa tub (in the basement). I love the lake, and the big back deck. But, the house I live in is similar to so many other houses, and I’ve never been similar to others...does living in a cookie-cutter house make me a cookie-cutter person? Does that fact that I settled on a house mean that I’ve settled as a person? What other things will I be willing to settle on?
Why did I buy this house, you might be wondering, and why don’t I just move again? Those are questions I won’t delve into right now, but I will say that my reasons are valid. The fact is that I did buy it and now I have to live with that decision.
So, would I be more content with my house if it were bigger, updated, and more unique? Maybe I would, but I wouldn’t have spent so much time thinking about it, and that is what has helped me learn a few things. I now know that, for me, a bigger house simply means watching TV in a bigger room. I think I’d be doing the same things regardless of the size of my house, and I’m doing the things I love. Aside from eating in a formal dining room, my house accommodates everything I love to do in it. I feel blessed to have this priority in place. I have also learned that, no matter how updated my house might have been when I bought it, there would still be many things I’d want to change in it. Upgrades would mean nothing if the final product didn’t reflect my personal tastes. I’m lucky to get to decide for myself what upgrades to make, and when. Finally, I have learned that my house might look similar to other houses on the outside, but if I can make it “my” house, the feeling on the inside will be like no other. It’s the way you feel about something that makes it unique.
I know why I bought this little house, even though I didn’t love it. And now, after many hours of reflections, I have even more reasons to like it. I’m over 40, and it’s taken all this time and a special little house to make me really understand that it’s not what you have that matters, it’s how you feel about what you have that matters.
Margaret
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Sports Offended
Sometimes I wonder...Why are people allowed to scream rude comments at referees and umpires during sporting events? And equally perplexing, why don’t those of us sitting near these grumbling, complaining, loud, individuals do something about it? Do we secretly wish we had the guts to yell something out too? Are we impressed that the otherwise calm, quiet, friends and neighbors suddenly morph into crazy, unpredictable beings? Personally, I don’t think so. I think people behave as they are allowed to behave, and whether we like it or not, airing personal opinions and name-calling has become part of the culture of many sports. But, I think it’s a culture that can be changed, if enough people want it to change.
I’m a coach’s wife and the mother of four athletic kids. In support of my family, I have perched the bleachers to watch tee-ball, baseball, softball, basketball, soccer, volleyball, football, cheer, dance, cross country, track, and most recently, tennis. For those of you who frequent sporting events, I’m sure you’ve been privy to the outrageous, if not embarrassing behavior of many spectators. I remember a mother harassing a high school referee at my son’s tee ball game, and another parent giving my 12 year old daughter grief for almost 15 minutes over a questionable call as a line judge in a volleyball match. Come on, these are kids! At a recent basketball tournament, parents were given written conduct guidelines to be followed throughout the games. I was offended, somewhat, and taken back that this “reminder” was necessary. Obviously, it was. The problem is evident, now we have to figure out a solution.
What if a “No Negativity” campaign was initiated in gymnasiums and stadiums? Seriously, it could work. Yelling at games would be acceptable, but only positive and supportive statements would be allowed. Cheering on your favorite players and chanting with the crowd would be fine; yelling “you suck” would not be tolerated. Bouncers would simply escort offenders out of the gym when they yelled a negative comment. The program would need to be well organized and executed consistently, but I think it would be a huge step in the right direction for the world of competitive sports. I imagine large banners with the word NEGATIVITY having a big, red line drawn through it. I can see people wearing tee shirts boasting the fact that negativity isn’t present in their stadium. The atmosphere surrounding sports would lean toward respect, rather than rudeness. It would be a safe, fun place to bring the family. Just as negativity breeds negativity, positive energy is catching too.
I’ll admit, it sounds a little idealistic, but it would be a nice change. I’ve shared my opinion with others, some people love it, and others don’t. “It will never happen”; “people simply can’t control their impulses”; “Yelling is part of sports” are some of the comments I hear. But, I know, for a fact, that people will behave according to the expectations set for them. Take tennis, for example. Tennis is an etiquette sport and people keep their mouths shut. At my son’s match last week, right in front of me and about 6 others watching, a ball clearly bounced “in” and was called “out”. I glanced around to see who would make a comment, but no one said anything. No one stood up, no one grumbled, no one even whispered to themselves. The ball was “out” and that was that; it was a non-issue. The players continued the game, the losers didn’t blame the line judge for their loss, and I fell in love with tennis.
Could basketball, tee-ball, baseball, softball, soccer, volleyball, and football become etiquette sports? I think “yes", what do you think?
Margaret
I’m a coach’s wife and the mother of four athletic kids. In support of my family, I have perched the bleachers to watch tee-ball, baseball, softball, basketball, soccer, volleyball, football, cheer, dance, cross country, track, and most recently, tennis. For those of you who frequent sporting events, I’m sure you’ve been privy to the outrageous, if not embarrassing behavior of many spectators. I remember a mother harassing a high school referee at my son’s tee ball game, and another parent giving my 12 year old daughter grief for almost 15 minutes over a questionable call as a line judge in a volleyball match. Come on, these are kids! At a recent basketball tournament, parents were given written conduct guidelines to be followed throughout the games. I was offended, somewhat, and taken back that this “reminder” was necessary. Obviously, it was. The problem is evident, now we have to figure out a solution.
What if a “No Negativity” campaign was initiated in gymnasiums and stadiums? Seriously, it could work. Yelling at games would be acceptable, but only positive and supportive statements would be allowed. Cheering on your favorite players and chanting with the crowd would be fine; yelling “you suck” would not be tolerated. Bouncers would simply escort offenders out of the gym when they yelled a negative comment. The program would need to be well organized and executed consistently, but I think it would be a huge step in the right direction for the world of competitive sports. I imagine large banners with the word NEGATIVITY having a big, red line drawn through it. I can see people wearing tee shirts boasting the fact that negativity isn’t present in their stadium. The atmosphere surrounding sports would lean toward respect, rather than rudeness. It would be a safe, fun place to bring the family. Just as negativity breeds negativity, positive energy is catching too.
I’ll admit, it sounds a little idealistic, but it would be a nice change. I’ve shared my opinion with others, some people love it, and others don’t. “It will never happen”; “people simply can’t control their impulses”; “Yelling is part of sports” are some of the comments I hear. But, I know, for a fact, that people will behave according to the expectations set for them. Take tennis, for example. Tennis is an etiquette sport and people keep their mouths shut. At my son’s match last week, right in front of me and about 6 others watching, a ball clearly bounced “in” and was called “out”. I glanced around to see who would make a comment, but no one said anything. No one stood up, no one grumbled, no one even whispered to themselves. The ball was “out” and that was that; it was a non-issue. The players continued the game, the losers didn’t blame the line judge for their loss, and I fell in love with tennis.
Could basketball, tee-ball, baseball, softball, soccer, volleyball, and football become etiquette sports? I think “yes", what do you think?
Margaret
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