02 May 2015
H is for Hiccups and Hide-and-Seek
The other day, I ended up at the bookstore after receiving some sad news (not like 'my dog died' sad news, but neither that 'Kanye and Kim were having a fight' sad news. Somewhere in the middle sad news). And it would be there that I ended up with a handful of opportunities to test the theory. I ordered my double dirty chai (as if any other dirty would do) and sat down to read and forget, but I couldn't focus on the words in front of me. I was still busy trying to convince myself to let go of five minutes ago and not worry about five minutes from now. But in that exact moment, the here and now really was sad. I wasn't dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. I was sad NOW - in the present. And it seemed super counter intuitive to try to stay in it. What if being in the moment isn't always awesome? Why would I want to stay there? So I looked around aimlessly, allowing my mind to wander. I have spent countless hours in this place - walking around and judging books by their covers to quiet the noise. But this time, I just sat there - scanning the place. As I did, I saw a mysterious looking older gentleman a few tables away, staring out at nothing as much as he did his laptop. An Asian mother, nursing her baby while her toddler spoke quickly to her in a language I couldn't understand, but knew immediately to be the universal language of a toddler driving his mother batshit crazy. And a young couple staring into each others eyes and laughing at things that weren't even funny - because they still had to. And then it happened. On a shelf to my right, I saw an Erector Set and I heard myself laugh out loud. (If I have to explain why, we probably don't hang out very often). That part of me that finds joy in gems like this is always present. And in that moment, I was grateful to have the mind of an immature 8th grader, because it made the here and now pretty tolerable. Dare I say, awesome. Even if only for a moment.
It wasn't long before my gut reminded my heart who reminded my head that I was sad and I was snapped back to that feeling. I reached under my glasses to catch a tear that fell before I even knew it was coming. Very discreetly, I assumed. But within three seconds of doing so, I looked up to see the aforementioned mysterious looking older gentleman hunched over near my table, so as to make eye contact and quietly say "I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt you or to pry, but are you OK?" Surprised, I said, "Yes. Thank you, I am fine." As he responded with "OK, that's good, I just wanted to make sure," I realized that I instantly went from being sad to feeling comfort because of a complete stranger who, in his own "staring out at nothing," had noticed me doing the same. Maybe I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn't. Our "nows" just happened to cross. And it changed things… for a moment. After sitting there for a second more, I looked back over at the Erector Set, smiled again, and realized it was time to go. But before I left, as the kind stranger went back to the counter for a coffee refill, I stopped by his table and dropped a note on his keyboard that read:
And then I walked out - with a calm that wasn't there when I walked in.
When I started writing this entry, Quincy came to me, upset that she had the hiccups. And, as I tried comforting her, I found myself smiling at the unintended metaphor. Nobody really likes having the hiccups. Sometimes they are just a little annoying, but sometimes they make your "tummy feel really yucky and bouncy." She didn't have them a moment ago, but the good news was, she probably wouldn't have them much longer - because these too shall pass.
So, the take-aways are this:
There is always an Erector Set around the corner. People are inherently kind. It's almost impossible to leave a bookstore not feeling better than when you went in. And hiccups don't last forever. I've also learned that the times it means the most to hold on to a moment are the times I spend them with my children. Because, as the mother of two adult boys, I understand all too well how fleeting those moments really are. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a hiccup-free four year old yelling "I'm done hiding and I'm not behind the couch" - from behind the couch - that I need to find.
19 March 2015
G is for Google
- That voice is SO familiar, but I can’t figure out who it is?
- Where can I rent a carpet shampooer at midnight on a Sunday in Eagle?
- Can I actually make a meal with a tomato, peanut butter, shredded cheese and pickles?
- Is he really saying “scaramouche" and what does that even mean?
I don’t even have to finish the question before Google finishes it for me with ….blue poop. And, that it isn’t weird enough that Google totally knew that's what I was going to ask, apparently it knows because at least a million other people have toddlers with fluorescent blue poop. Which tells me I am not alone, but not much else. And, it turns out, I could have easily said burgundy poop and at least a thousand other people would have already asked that too. Which is just weird. (She didn’t, by the way, have burgundy poop)
Thanks Google. I’ve often wondered.
*Don't bother googling. That combo was completely fabricated…..just as the illnesses usually are. But we both know you're going to Google Phantosmia. As you should.
Last night, my sister was all too excited to show us her new stupid human trick, as she had finally outsmarted the Rubik's Cube. After she finished, I asked if she had googled how to do it. Of course she had, and then she proceeded to tell me it was all just a series of algorithms and if you did this here and that there and licked your lips twice, with one eye closed and blah blah blah…… (I'll be honest, she lost me at "algorithms") The point is, thanks to Google, the Rubik's Cube that has had its hold on her for the better part of 30+ years was now nothing more than a cube of algorithms. Or something like that. And algorithms, it seems, ain't got nothing on my sister!
In my infinite boredom last night, I went ahead and took a survey (which consisted solely of typing my name) to determine my spirit animal. How Chris translates to Bear, I have no idea. But don't think for one minute that I didn't google what it meant to be a bear, just in case it meant I was awesome. What I learned was: In the kingdom of spirit animals, the bear is emblematic of grounding forces and strength. This animal has been worshiped throughout time as a powerful totem, inspiring those who need it the courage to stand up against adversity. As a spirit animal in touch with the earth and the cycles of nature, it is a powerful guide to support physical and emotional healing.
So yes, I am awesome. Go figure.
There is a video (lasting mere seconds) that had me laughing out loud for a good five straight days when I first saw it. And, since that is exactly what I needed last night, I pulled up the Kid in a Minion Costume Who Falls and was immediately reminded that "I'm OK".
If you haven’t seen it….. you know what to do.
Google that shit!
BTDubs:
- Aisha Tyler, from The Talk, is the voice of Lana from Archer. Quite the paradox. And brilliant.
- You can’t rent a carpet shampooer anywhere at midnight on a Sunday in Eagle. Which then led to googling How long is the average lifespan of a cat?
- While Google had no decent ideas for the combination of the aforementioned ingredients, I now know how to perfect the grilled cheese sandwich. And that peanut butter is a meal in itself. Tell me something I don't know, Google.
- Yes, that IS what he is saying. And it means, in an abbreviated version, a buffoon or boastful clown. I've gone my whole life thinking it was a nonsense word, but would have been perfectly content to ignorantly sing along for the rest of my life. Because it's Freddie Mercury, people!
16 March 2015
F is for F***ing Forgiveness
Today, I fucking forgive myself…..for all of it. And moving forward, I'll probably just start being perfect and awesome and stuff.
19 March 2011
E is for Elliott
It's the day before he turns 10 and we are driving to school. I ask him what he wants for his birthday and, after looking out the window to ponder for a moment, he says calmly and in all seriousness, "I want to be able to say c-r-a-p and I want a Dr. Pepper." Trying my best not to laugh out loud (and wondering why I spent so much on an actual present), I tell him that I will have to think about it. The story ends at Gerties with Elliott drinking a Dr. Pepper and with him nervously spouting a well-rehearsed, "Holy cow, did I eat a crap load of pizza!" After being reassured that he wasn't in trouble, he smiled contently, completely satisfied by his rebel moment and the best birthday present ever!
11 March 2011
D is for Dog Hair
05 March 2011
C is for Control
We can control, be controlled, lose control, be controlling, or lack control. There is so much to say here, but because of the many variations of the word, I find it difficult to organize my thoughts in order to write. One might say I am having a hard time controlling the direction of this entry. Maybe there won’t be one. A direction, that is.
Life really seems to be about finding a balance between the things we cannot control and the things we should.
This is what I know now. I cannot control others (Lord knows, I have tried). I cannot make my son like math, make my daughter eat more, my students read more or my husband put the green bowls on the bottom shelf and the plastic ones on the top. I cannot make someone sorry or admit when they are wrong. I cannot keep the dog out of the mud or the cat from puking on the carpet. But I want to. And I feel out of control when I can’t. The bottom line is, I am. What I am finally starting to recognize is the obvious; in the big picture, these things really don’t matter. I find myself saying, “pick your battles” often. And I do everyday. I pick my battles. It is the mantra of my mid-thirties. I am starting to feel myself get wiser with age. Maybe Oprah is right.
I also know that while I put my energies into attempting to control the things I can’t, I am wasting valuable energy needed to control the things I can. And should. I can control what I eat, the days I run, and the water I drink. I can control the way I treat people and the things that I say. I can control my to-do lists and what time I go to bed at night. But since outside forces sometimes make these things difficult to control, I sometimes don’t, even when I know I should. Interesting, considering the other things aren’t difficult, they are impossible to control.
I know that losing control and letting go of control are two totally different things. Being a control freak (as I have been affectionately referred to by some), marrying another one has created major lessons in self-discipline and the art of letting go. I have discovered that I am better at it than I thought I would be. So much so that I now I have to be cautious of becoming complacent in certain areas because I have given them to someone else to take over.
I am learning to let go of the little things. If I didn’t, some days I would lose control entirely.
I know that sometimes I feel like maybe I am trying to control everything on the outside to hide the fact that so much of what is on the inside is missing that restraint. This is huge.
Writing this entry has taken me over a week. I told myself that it was because of a very sick nephew, doctor’s appointments, my own fever of 103, daycare hunts, and a clingy baby. Yes, these are all external events and yes, they were beyond my control. The truth is, none of them should have stopped me from writing at some point, yesterday or the day before or even the day before that. Again, trying to control what I can't and losing control of what I should.
I am a work in progress, but this too I can control.
21 February 2011
B is for BodyPump
Today was the day I finally braved the gym again - for the first time since I was about 7 months pregnant. Going to the gym with an extra 30 pounds because you’re pregnant, comes with looks of admiration from others and the feeling of confidence from myself. Going to the gym with an extra 30 pounds when you are not pregnant carries with it the feeling that you are simply like every other overweight person in the gym, a month overdue on their New Year’s resolution. When I go anywhere else, I have the baby with me and one of two things happens. 1. Nobody notices me (or the maternity clothes I am still wearing) because of the gorgeous nugget in the car seat I am carrying or 2. Everyone sees that I just had a baby and everyone understands. Today, I walked in the gym alone, 30 pounds heavier than I want to be, and in really tight workout pants.
Vulnerability at its finest.
I didn’t just go to the gym. I went for BodyPump. For those of you that have taken this class, I could stop here and you would feel my pain. For those of you who haven’t, I just ask that you trust me when I say that tomorrow will be spent avoiding stairs, and chairs, and toilets, and anything else that requires me to bend my legs – at all. My body felt ready today. Tomorrow, I will be reminded that it is NEVER really ready.
Just as I mentioned in my last post, I am open to the idea that with change, great things come. And I don’t necessarily think it comes in the most obvious or suspecting ways. I am aware that going to the class today was the right thing to do and I do appreciate, simply, that I am able - but something bigger happened as I put my mat away and walked toward the door to leave class this morning. In came a flood of senior citizens that had been waiting outside the room for our class to finish so theirs could begin. They were early and eager and pushing their way through to find a spot to plant their silver sneakers for the next hour. They had smiles on their faces and they were focused and ready. They all had a good 30 years on me and suddenly my 30 pounds seemed more than manageable. I walked out of the gym smiling and grateful and tried to visualize myself walking in a gym 30 years from now, inspiring an insecure 36-year-old mother of three to suck it up.
As I finish this post, I can hear my daughter talking to her papa downstairs. I can hear him telling her it is the most beautiful sound in the world. My aching back, tight pants, and messy house seem a small price to pay. Everyone should be so lucky.