Because I'm pretty sure it can't be good to go from this...
to this, in only one day. Seriously, one day!
Wordless Wednesday
I'm sure I've mentioned my lack of a green thumb before. Well, if anyone recalls my Mother's Day blog about the totally awesome ice-cube orchids I received as a gift, and has a soft spot for anything green and growing, you might want to sit down before viewing this blog post.
I Survived Tryouts
For the past several days, I’ve experienced some strange symptoms. Heart thumping erratically. Shallow breathing. Feeling anxious. Yesterday, the symptoms grew more severe as the morning progressed. I couldn’t concentrate on my writing. My stomach was upset, my knees were weak, and if somebody looked closely, they could probably tell that my hands were shaking.My symptoms peaked, then almost instantly dissipated at 10:36 a.m., as I watched my son and his buddy walking slowly from the high school soccer practice fields. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out the features of his face. He was talking to his friend in his usual animated way, and smiling. I immediately felt the knot in my stomach begin to loosen. As he approached my waiting van, he caught my eye and his grin grew wider. He swung open the door and said, “I made the team!”
FINALLY! I could breathe again.
My son is about to enter his freshman year of high school, and we just experienced high school soccer tryouts. I say “we” even though I’m certain my son had no idea that every single day of those tryouts I was out there on the field with him. I’m always on the field with him.
I’m sure many parents can relate to what I’m saying here, right? We’re on the field, or the court, or the stage with them—our kids.
My daughter has run with the high school cross country team for the past three years. When she (& the other runners) would pass me by at meets, I would clap loudly and shout encouraging words. As I watched their faces reflecting the extreme difficulty of the course, I’d literally have to suppress a ridiculous, almost overwhelming, urge to cry over how hard they were struggling, pushing themselves to run faster. Run harder.
I suspect (hope?!) I’m not alone in this strange phenomenon of “empathy parenting.” It’s not that we’re living vicariously through our children. It’s just that we…care so much. I know that whatever happens, whether they make the team or not, whether they come in first place or last, whether they screw up their lines or not, it’s what’s meant to be. They will have positive and negative experiences throughout their lives. And when bad stuff happens, they’ll eventually get over it. Learn from it. Move on. But when I’m in the moment… Heck, what can I say?
As much as my logical mind knows it’s ridiculous to become so caught up in their stuff, I can’t seem to stop it. All I know is, when they’re out there, I’m out there. But I guess if a parent can’t be their child’s biggest cheerleader, who can, right?
Take a Break
During the week I was home alone, some good friends of mine were camping with their kids about half an hour away, and they invited me to join them. I was hesitant. I’ve never camped as an adult. Growing up, my family camped a lot. But kids get all the fun parts of camping, their main responsibility is to play all day. But adults, I suspected, found it a lot less fun and a lot more work.
Initially I thought I’d just visit for a few hours then head back home. But my friends wanted me to really experience camping as a grownup and encouraged me to stay overnight. So I did. I was pleasantly surprised to find the entire adventure quite relaxing.
And, okay, their campers did have microwaves, potties, showers, running water and a working T.V. But it’s still camping, right? I mean we were at a real campsite and everything.
And admittedly, my friends had done all the meal prep work and cooking, and had already set up their campsites. So my only responsibility was the dog and myself.
But the break away from the responsibilities of the real world was…refreshing. We walked in the woods, played Apples to Apples, and Spoons. (I love that game!) Even when it rained for a bit, we just sat under the retractable awning on one of my friend’s campers and chatted until it stopped. In the evening we had a campfire and made s’mores. We laughed over the fact that one friend and her son were trapped in the public restroom at bedtime by a nocturnal skunk taking an evening stroll. We went to bed only when we got tired, and got up when we awoke naturally. No alarm clocks.
Being away from cell phones, real phones, the computer, and all responsibilities felt really good. Watching my friends’ children, perfectly happy without their X-Boxes, and iPods, just riding their bikes around and playing together in the woods reminded me of simpler times.
It really brought home to me the importance of taking breaks. Real breaks. Not planned vacations with full itineraries of sightseeing and lack of sleep. But honest-to-goodness sit-on-your-butt-doing-nothing breaks. It’s still August, and there’s plenty of summer sunshine left. So go ahead. Get out there, spread a blanket on the grass and take a break. It’s on me.
Initially I thought I’d just visit for a few hours then head back home. But my friends wanted me to really experience camping as a grownup and encouraged me to stay overnight. So I did. I was pleasantly surprised to find the entire adventure quite relaxing.
And, okay, their campers did have microwaves, potties, showers, running water and a working T.V. But it’s still camping, right? I mean we were at a real campsite and everything.
And admittedly, my friends had done all the meal prep work and cooking, and had already set up their campsites. So my only responsibility was the dog and myself.
But the break away from the responsibilities of the real world was…refreshing. We walked in the woods, played Apples to Apples, and Spoons. (I love that game!) Even when it rained for a bit, we just sat under the retractable awning on one of my friend’s campers and chatted until it stopped. In the evening we had a campfire and made s’mores. We laughed over the fact that one friend and her son were trapped in the public restroom at bedtime by a nocturnal skunk taking an evening stroll. We went to bed only when we got tired, and got up when we awoke naturally. No alarm clocks.
Being away from cell phones, real phones, the computer, and all responsibilities felt really good. Watching my friends’ children, perfectly happy without their X-Boxes, and iPods, just riding their bikes around and playing together in the woods reminded me of simpler times.
It really brought home to me the importance of taking breaks. Real breaks. Not planned vacations with full itineraries of sightseeing and lack of sleep. But honest-to-goodness sit-on-your-butt-doing-nothing breaks. It’s still August, and there’s plenty of summer sunshine left. So go ahead. Get out there, spread a blanket on the grass and take a break. It’s on me.
Image by: Paul.Carroll
Home Alone
I experienced an incredibly strange phenomenon last week. I was home alone. For the entire week. I haven’t had the experience of being home alone for an entire week since…um…whoa! Never! I just realized I’ve never been home alone for an entire week in my life! That can’t be right. Lemme think…Grew up in a family of six.
In college I had roommates.
After getting my first job, I shared a house with two other twenty-somethings.
Moved briefly back home with the family before getting married.
By the time my hubby started traveling for work, our daughter had been born.
So wow, I’ve never been home alone for an entire week. Interesting…
Well anyway, I ended up home alone because my hubby left on a business trip, and the kids were both at high-school church camp together. I had been alternately dreading and anticipating the week. I was certain it was going to feel really weird having no one to care for and no one to talk to except myself (and the dog). But the idea of freedom from any commitments, and the time to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, just sounded so…wonderful.
At first, my days were fairly typical. I went through my usual morning routine, and worked on clients’ writing projects throughout the afternoon, just like always. The only differences being that I was able to make a gratifying dent in the dreaded “pile.” (You know the “pile,” right? That massive pile of papers that always stacks up because you keep shoving more papers on top of it waiting for time to get to them.) And I was able to dedicate more time to my creative writing projects. I even surpassed my goal of 3,000 words for the week, adding 4,600 words to my work-in-progress novel.
But aside from those few differences, my days were pretty normal. After a couple of days of this it struck me, “Hey you’re doing it wrong.” I needed to start thinking outside the box. To recognize that I didn’t need to conform to any set routines. To grasp the unfamiliar concept of: I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.
Suddenly, I began to enjoy the ultimate flexibility I had in my schedule. If I felt like goofing off in the middle of the day, and doing all my writing at night, I could. If I wanted to talk on the phone for hours, eat junk all day, work through dinner, and watch a movie until 2:00 a.m., I could. And so I did! It was very freeing that way. That was the good part.
But I’ll confess, it WAS a little lonely. The times that felt the strangest were the evenings and dinner time. I’d notice how quiet the house was then. I found myself talking to the dog a lot. And making him answer me in the ridiculous baby voice my daughter and I use. Then I’d respond again, then he would, until I finally realized I was having an entire conversation with myself. (Not a good sign!)
I started to relate to the Tom Hank’s character in Castaway, when he discovers “Wilson,” the volleyball. Although, I felt marginally better knowing my “Wilson” was an actual living, breathing creature.
When my week alone came to an end, I reflected that although I had been lonely, I hadn’t felt quite as lonely as I’d thought I would. I think it’s because I knew my days were numbered-- that my time alone would only last this one single week. If there hadn’t been an end in sight, I probably would have felt very differently.
On Friday, it was time to pick up the kids from camp. I was so glad to see them! So was “Wilson” who insisted on coming with me for the ride. So now I’m readjusting back to normal mode once again. Making dinner. Keeping regular work hours. As I write, I can hear sounds of movement from upstairs and the T.V. is on in the family room. Someone comes in to talk with me, or to ask me a question. The sounds of life in the house. The sounds of my family. My week home alone was cool. But I really do like having these folks around me. Good stuff.
Man Voices...
As those of you who follow my blog know, I've mentioned how freaky it is listening to the voices of my son and his friends. How they seem to have suddenly changed from boy voices to man voices overnight--with none of that squeaky in-between stuff that I expected. Well check out these 14- and 15-year-old Italian boys singing in some truly ultimate man voices. (PG-13 warning on the the lady host's attire! Could she be any more lowcut!)
Mommy, He's TOUCHING Me!
My 17-year-old daughter just made her brother cry. Real, blow-his-nose, tears-dripping-down-his-face crying. And not because she pinched him when I wasn’t looking, nor because she called him some awful name. It was because she wrote him an incredibly sweet, heartfelt letter about how much she loves and appreciates him, and hopes to become a better sister to him than she has been in the past. I know what you’re thinking and no I’m not dreaming.
Ashleigh has returned, from her recent mission trip to Guatemala, a changed young woman. More aware of the blessing her family (and particularly her little brother) is to her.
Once upon a time when Joshua was born, Ashleigh was initially curious, then annoyed with her new brother. Suddenly attention was being diverted from her 2-1/2-year-old cuteness to his adorable baby new-ness. I’d catch her “patting” him in such a way as to make me wonder whether she was truly patting him in love, or smacking him in irritation.
There was a brief smooth patch in their relationship when Joshua reached his toddler years. During that window of time, Ashleigh could pretty much get her little brother to do anything in exchange for the honor of playing with her, and having her undivided attention. Joshua adored (and still does) his big sister. Dress him up like a girl. Paint his toenails. Order him around. He was a willing accessory in her games of make believe.
I looked on smugly, certain they were going to be the rare exception and actually escape the whole sibling rivalry thing altogether. (Hark, dost thou hear the evil laughter in the background here?) Then…
KA-BLAM! It hit.
When they reached about the ages of 6 and 4, it seemed like they quarreled over every little thing. Who got to brush their teeth first, who got to hug the dog first in the morning, who got the “good” chair. And I absolutely could not stand it when they’d start fighting. I know the much-quoted parental advice on sibling rivalry is to “just let them work it out.” But I had a really hard time with that—especially when it came to name calling. No “S” words (“stupid”) or “D” words (“dumb”) on my watch!
As soon as I heard an unkind word or the start of a fight, I was in their faces, often forcing them to play the Compliment Game where I’d immediately sit them down and have them give three compliments to each other. The compliments had to be about qualities they genuinely admired in each other, and could not be something superficial like “I like your shirt.” After the first couple of times, this “GAME” drove them nuts.
“No, puhleeeze mama! Not compliments again!”
Other times I would shriek in frustration. “Stop it! Be nice to each other. Once daddy and I are gone you will only have each other!”
To be totally fair, their relationship wasn’t completely contentious. They had their occasional good moments. Like when I’d catch Ashleigh reading books to Joshua in the middle of the afternoon. Or when he’d share a last treasured piece of candy with her. But more often than not, if they weren’t busy doing something else, they were annoying each other.
Then, over the next decade, so slowly and so subtly I was hardly aware it was happening, their relationship changed—is changing. Now at 17 and 15, they are evolving into not only siblings, but friends, right before my eyes. And it is so cool!
All it took was a two-week mission trip to Guatemala.
And over ten years.
And nagging parents drilling it into their heads.
Yup. Seventeen years, parental nagging and a two-week mission trip. Cool, eh?
Ashleigh has returned, from her recent mission trip to Guatemala, a changed young woman. More aware of the blessing her family (and particularly her little brother) is to her.
Once upon a time when Joshua was born, Ashleigh was initially curious, then annoyed with her new brother. Suddenly attention was being diverted from her 2-1/2-year-old cuteness to his adorable baby new-ness. I’d catch her “patting” him in such a way as to make me wonder whether she was truly patting him in love, or smacking him in irritation.
There was a brief smooth patch in their relationship when Joshua reached his toddler years. During that window of time, Ashleigh could pretty much get her little brother to do anything in exchange for the honor of playing with her, and having her undivided attention. Joshua adored (and still does) his big sister. Dress him up like a girl. Paint his toenails. Order him around. He was a willing accessory in her games of make believe.
I looked on smugly, certain they were going to be the rare exception and actually escape the whole sibling rivalry thing altogether. (Hark, dost thou hear the evil laughter in the background here?) Then…
KA-BLAM! It hit.
When they reached about the ages of 6 and 4, it seemed like they quarreled over every little thing. Who got to brush their teeth first, who got to hug the dog first in the morning, who got the “good” chair. And I absolutely could not stand it when they’d start fighting. I know the much-quoted parental advice on sibling rivalry is to “just let them work it out.” But I had a really hard time with that—especially when it came to name calling. No “S” words (“stupid”) or “D” words (“dumb”) on my watch!
As soon as I heard an unkind word or the start of a fight, I was in their faces, often forcing them to play the Compliment Game where I’d immediately sit them down and have them give three compliments to each other. The compliments had to be about qualities they genuinely admired in each other, and could not be something superficial like “I like your shirt.” After the first couple of times, this “GAME” drove them nuts.
“No, puhleeeze mama! Not compliments again!”
Other times I would shriek in frustration. “Stop it! Be nice to each other. Once daddy and I are gone you will only have each other!”
To be totally fair, their relationship wasn’t completely contentious. They had their occasional good moments. Like when I’d catch Ashleigh reading books to Joshua in the middle of the afternoon. Or when he’d share a last treasured piece of candy with her. But more often than not, if they weren’t busy doing something else, they were annoying each other.
Then, over the next decade, so slowly and so subtly I was hardly aware it was happening, their relationship changed—is changing. Now at 17 and 15, they are evolving into not only siblings, but friends, right before my eyes. And it is so cool!
All it took was a two-week mission trip to Guatemala.
And over ten years.
And nagging parents drilling it into their heads.
Yup. Seventeen years, parental nagging and a two-week mission trip. Cool, eh?
Quote of the Month
"You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don't try."
~ Beverly Sills ~
Image by: Holly Bowne
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