"Dear Gee-Suss"

Laying in bed last night trying to coax my daughter to sleep, we were finally still enough to say our prayers. Nighttime prayers have always been a "you say them mommy!" sort of thing. And so I have, naming practically every soul we know. But last night, she said, "you say them first." And so, for the first time ever... my 4-year-old lifted her sleepy little voice to God in prayer. (Well, not exactly the first time, but I'm not counting mealtime stuff.) It went something like this...

Dear Gee-Suss (ya gotta hear a small voice say it that way!!):
Please take care of nana & pawpaw when they fly home from Alaska. I hope Amber (their dog) isn't too lonely. I'm sorry that Gray's horses weren't home tonight to eat the apple. But I ate it for them and it was really good. I'm sorry that his swingset was taken down because he's moving. Do you know where it is now? Help my babydoll (which she forgot at their house) to sleep good at Gray's. In Gee-Suss name, aww man. :)

We're still working on the Amen part. After so many days of horrible behavior out of her, hearing these tender words come from her heart was just what mine needed. There's always light at the end of the tunnel.

Closer to Fine

Is it Tuesday? I hate the fog of never knowing what day it is when you work from home. Not much differinciates one day from another. Today however, we're going to the zoo. It's designed to be a special treat and quality time with our daughter. Whom, if you're paying attention, is stretching her independence in all the wrong directions. We're hoping that quality time with mom & dad goes a long way to recover the sweetheart that we're pretty sure is still in there somewhere. Which leads me to the timeless wisdom of who else? The Indigo Girls...

"I'm trying to tell you something about my life, maybe give me insight between black and white. See, the best thing you've ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously... it's only life after all. Well, darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, and lightness has a call that's hard to hear. I wrap my fear around me like a blanket, I sailed my ship of safety until I sank it. Now, I'm crawling on your shores. I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains, I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains. There's more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line.... and the less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine."

What, exactly does all that mean? Don't try so hard to make life & little girls perfect? The house of cards is always fragile and prone to fall when provoked? Deep... I'm not sure exactly what that means...

honest kinda hurts

It's all well and good, but let's keep in mind that sometimes blunt force honesty can down right hurt.

Until your four-year-old defies your authority in public... judge not. Until you weigh so much that you hate yourself... judge not. Until you struggle to make all the ends meet... judge not. Until you're walking a mile or two in these shoes... judge not.

Ephesians 4:26, “Let no unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful and for building others up according to their needs that it may benefit those who listen.” (NIV)

tomato soup

I know someone wrote a money making book about chicken soup & your soul, but I've never really been fond of chicken soup. I'm more of a tomato girl myself. So today, while chilly and stuffy I gravitated toward the comfort food of my youth: tomato soup with a grilled pb&j sandwich.

Hmmm.... Campbells? What'd ya do to tomato soup!?!? Something's not right. It's not what mom used to make... thick, rich, tomatoey. Mine's missing something.... Could be the whole milk, she stirred in slowly with loving tenderness of a mommy. Could be the real peanut butter she used, not the natural crap I've got to stir. Could have been the homemade plum jam, not the sugarless goo I'm 'enjoying' these days. So, as I settle in with my lunch at my desk, I had to take a moment to pause and commemorate the wonderfulness of a soup/sandwich made for me by my mom. There's just nothing quite like it. Unfortunately.

aaaahhhh, that's better....

Know that old phrase, 'when momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy?" True, True, True! It's a viscious cycle... momma's happiness hinges on good behavior from the troops, and good behavior from the troops... hinges on momma's attitude. When I finally hit rock bottom, a very wise man named Tom helped me bounce back up (thanks Whitney & Dr. August!). I could type for days on what he said... but here are the two big morsels:

Don't be Happy! "Happy" is an easy word that conjurs up visions of 5 year olds at Christmas time. Happy is far too simple of an adjective to describe the complexity of adult life. If you try to make yourself 'happy' you're never going to get there because life is too dang complicated. Strive for 'satisfied' Are you satisfied with the way things are turning out? If not, focus on what it takes to satisfy you, not just make you happy.

Look forward! I've wallered a little bit in the trap of 'my life isn't as happy as I remember it being years ago.' (duh, welcome to complex!!) Well, it's not the most healthy attitued to find a spot in the past and strive to be there again. Instead, foresee yourself at a place in the future where you're satisfied. Strive to take yourself to that place. Don't spend your energy moving backward... push forward.

Now, I'm not an expert. I'm just passing on expert advice that really slapped me in the head when I needed it. Life, life is too short to spend it pouting. So... I'm looking forward, and I've taken happy out of my roladex. I'm a grown up, with grown up problems, and grown up solutions. And, proud to say... satisfied.

compulsive behavior

I'm reading a book for the first time that I've owned for probably 8 years. It's by Geneen Roth entitled "Feeding The Hungry Heart" I also have "When You Eat at The Refrigerator, Pull Up a Chair." Geneen focuses on compulsive behavior specifically compulsive eating. I'm reluctantly admitting, that I have a compulsive personality. (let's see if I can fit the word compulsive in here a few more times, shall we?)

See, I'm extreme. Love hard, hate hard. Volunteer, even with I don't want to. Deny what's obvious to convince myself that fantasy might really be real. And recently, I've struggled with being compulsively blue. And frankly, I'm sick of it. So, I'm trying my darndest (with the aid of some diehard friends!) to pull myself up by the bootstraps and get over it! That, and I've switched from Lexapro to Wellbutrin! :) Anyway, if you have never struggled with the evil games your mind will play with you... thank the Almighty Maker right now! And, here's a one paragraph explaination that Geneen writes to explain it perfectly...

"If who you are is wrong, then what you want is also wrong. If what you want is wrong, you must constantly be on guard against yourself, depriving yourself, never giving yourself what you want because that's also wrong; you can't be trusted. The fear is that if you allowed yourself to be yourself, you would devour the whole world. And on an emotional level, if you let yourself be yourself, no one would love you."

Tomorrow is in fact another day, and despite what my head tells me I want to do (pout all day), I'm going to get up and get moving, and have a good day. That's the type of soul that I have. Compulsively optimistic... that's my goal.

Request for Vacation Day

Hi, I've got my form all filled out, and I'd like to submit it please? Yes, um, it's for a vacation day (or two). Mommy could use a little time alone.

Four years old... completely sucks. The surge of independence and strong will are exhausting and sometimes embarrassing. Like when it gets exerted in front of my in-laws. Why is everything a test of my ability to hold my temper? Whoever slipped my little sweet angel a big fat pill of talk-back, roll-eyes, stomp foot, pout, point finger, argue, sneer, grunt, and whine... I'm going to hunt you down and kill you with kindergarten scissors.

Here's what it leads to... resentment & jealosy. My life didn't use to consist of this. In some former shell of myself, I wasn't easily provoked to anger and outbursts of threats. I was compassionate, loving, and willing. Now? Now I'm perpetually aggitated. Easily set off into hostility, and only soothed by something fattening. Lately, a Starbucks Carmel Macchiato is working nicely. Especially when downed with a bag of hersey's kisses.

Vacation day approved? There's an oasis out there somewhere.

poopy metaphor...

If you're a frequent reader, you know that by my own choice I'm the lawn mower in my household. While mowing the mostly dry dead grass today, I noticed two bright green stripes in my neighbor's yard. As I started to pay closer attention, I noticed that each house had it. It was the septic drain field. Septic as in poopy. Yep. Which normally would have quickly slid out of my mind, but while mowing I often blog in my head so it evolved into a deep metaphor.... The sh*t always stands out.

Told you it was deep. And metaphorical. The goodness easily gets clouded out by all the mess and junk in my day. So as I rode around my yard, I consciously tried to notice the goodness. My hub and daughter were laughing in the pool... bonding in a mystical dad/daughter kind of way. Our home is comfortable and loving and affordable. It's definitely not clean or neat like everybody else's, but it envelops my family in a safe and happy way. I thought of a long list of friends and what I admire about each one of them (a future blog no doubt). My mom is visiting, alive and healthy at 73 even after lymphoma and heart surgery. Still happily married to my dad after 34 years. And then my neighbor Anne pulled out of her fence on their big industrial mower! Only the 2nd time she'd ever been on it. YOU GO GIRL!! (see blog of 7/12/06) Yes, I'm liberating my neighborhood one female mower at a time!!!!!

So each time I drove past those vivid green septic stripes contrasted by dead grass, I chuckled to myself. No doubt the poop rises to the top... but, thankfully it's still just a minor inconvenience in my busy day of blessings.

licking the alter

I remember being a little kid sitting stone still while the pastor gave the hell fire and brimstone alter call. He was harshly visual, describing each part of you that God wanted as the congregation droaned another verse of "Is Your All On The Alter?" I remember him saying the most important part of us to give to God was our tongue. Put your tongue on the alter. Of course, as a little kid, I had to crack one eye open to see if anybody actually went up there and licked the alter!!!! Oddly, no one ever did. We'd moan through another verse and finally get to go to lunch.

Here now as an adult, I clearly understand what he was going for. Our uncontrolled tongue can in fact be the most dangerous weapon we possess. And it's unfortunate that we don't come with a little rewind or mute button to stop us right on the brink of saying something stupid or hurtful. Think if God would have worked on the 7th day He'd have added that feature? Probably, not. It's a character flaw that He left there on purpose. To teach us self-control and discernment. UGH! The hard truth remains: the only thing God gave me complete control over is ME. What goes into me... what comes out of me... and what me does minute to minute. How me reacts to situations, how me treats others, how me makes a difference in the world.

Today, I read a very powerful version of the Serenity Prayer remixed. Worth sharing, and memorizing, although I don't think AA will rush out to reprint all their materials... "God, grant me the serenity to accept the people I cannot change, the courage to change the one I can, and the wisdom to know...it's me."

In my mind's eye I'm walking down that scary isle and finally licking that alter the way God wants me to.