Serenity Now

Syd in her zebra coat with her Pomeranians

Do you believe in foreshadowing?  I mean, do you believe that life will show us snapshots of what's to come years from now?  I recall a "seasoned" mother watching Elliot have a meltdown at Target when he was 2, telling me something like "get control of his temper tantrums now or you'll really have a lot to chew when he's 16."  I think about that comment sometimes even now.  Although, I have to say I didn't then, nor do I now, see it as very helpful advice.  What does that even mean anyway?  I mean, I couldn't really reason with an over-tired 2 year-old who didn't understand why we weren't going to buy 10 bags of Goldfish crackers (that actually was what the tantrum was about).  So, why on earth do I envision myself reasoning with a 16 year-old who will likely be over-tired and over-hormonal.  Nevertheless, I have had 2 mornings in a row with Sydney that have left me hoping this isn't foreshadowing of what's to come when she is 16. 

Her coming unglued usually involves me brushing her hair, to which she has adequately named "hair torture."  I don't really pride myself in being a mom who makes threats that I cannot deliver on, but I have to admit the statement "we could get it cut short" has crossed my lips.  Another source of contention is clothing.  Her style differs oh so much from my own.  She likes everything with glitter, sequence, animal prints, and tutu skirts.  My mom got her a gift card to Justice for Girls for Christmas.  When we went to spend it I felt like such a jerk...every other word out of my mouth must have been "no."  She finally settled on a cute sweater dress, a fluffy scarf, and two Pomeranian stuffed dogs.  She claims when she grows up she is having a Pomeranian as a pet.  John told her she has to move out first.  Ha!  But seriously, I have to wonder what’s in store for us 10 years from now.  I think I better buy stock in hair color because the grays are going to completely overtake me. 

John and I watched Seinfeld when it was on (heck, I still DVR it and we rewatch it).  There was an episode when George’s father, Frank, was trying to “keep his cool.”  He decided that instead of losing his temper, he was going to speak the statement “serenity now.”  The statement was supposed to deliver him from the frustration and give him peace.  A friend tells George that the "serenity now" tactic of stress relief is ineffective, it simply bottles up inside until you eventually go insane.  This is absolutely one of the funniest episodes of the show I have ever seen.  I’ve been saying the Serenity Prayer to myself over the past couple days when Sydney is stonewalling over hair, eating breakfast, and getting dressed.  This prayer does help me.  I like to think I’m not as crazy as Frank Costanza, but there are moments when I am down in the trenches of motherhood, feeling I am not coming out alive; or at least not without significant damage.

I have to decide if I really have a choice in these matters.  Ask myself, how important is it?  In the grand scheme of life does it really matter if she pairs a black sequence, silver starred tutu with an owl-patterned shirt?  Does it really matter that her earrings rarely match?  Does it matter that she wears glitter shoes to Elliot's basketball practice, then attempts to participate wearing them? Definitely not!  But, it does matter that she eats enough protein, remembers to bring home her homework, and doesn’t speak to me in a completely disrespectful tone.  Is this what my mom means when she advises me “Kristin, you have to pick your battles”??  These are those moments, when as parents ourselves, we finally see that our own parents weren’t so “wrong.” Mom, you did SO many things right!

I flipped the pages one of my favorite books on motherhood this morning.  I am packing it up to send to my sister, Emily.  She’s in the toddler war zone.  She’s in the mommy-stage that I was in that day 7 years ago in Target.  My nephew, AJ, has meltdowns over things she cannot simply smooth over.  She needs support, other moms, and comedic relief.  The book I am sending her offers just that.  But, at the end it had this perfect part that I could really relate to.  “The awareness that life goes in stages, and that’s not such a bad thing, is priceless.”  We moms (sorry dads) sacrifice so much when our kids are little.  We don’t even realize it until we start to come out of it.  I get normal amounts of sleep now (mostly).  My kids don’t run away from me (usually).  I don’t have to explain to a crying toddler why we can’t buy 10 bags of Goldfish (now it’s why Elliot can’t eat more than 3 slices of pizza at once, but at least he isn’t crying).   

I still need my own timeouts sometimes and I waver between moments of being a Pinterest Mom or a Real Mom.  At the end of the day though, or when I drop off the kids at school and the tense moments of 8 AM have passed, I can breathe deeply and know that this too shall pass--and again repeat the Serenity Prayer.  More recently I have taken off on a run to smooth myself over. Maybe running really is a sanity saver.

So here’s to moms, whatever stage you may find yourself in.  Serenity now, and not insanity later.  Do one thing today that your future self will thank you for.

Thanks for reading.

Sweet Elliot meltdown free

My favorite prayer

Thoughts from the Treadmill?

I first heard this slogan, “you can’t out exercise a bad diet” from my healthy husband, John.  Now it rings in my head as I attempt to become a runner.  I’ve been running about 5 times a week now.  I am going to admit something about running.  I don’t like it.  It is such a struggle for me.  I make strange facial expressions while I run.  I sweat.  A lot.  My face turns red.  I listen to very loud music.  And, I think too much.

I have this incredibly annoying habit of over analyzing EVERYTHING.  My brain seriously over processes just about every thought that enters my mind.  A friend of mine calls this “introspective.”  Perhaps I think this way since my personality is much more extroverted.  I have no idea.  I’m sure I’ll think about it some more to come to a better conclusion.  What I do know is that my introspective thought patterns carry over while I am exercising.  I have asked other runners, “What do you think about when you run?”  Their response baffles me.  Do you know what it is?  It’s one word:  NOTHING.  I mean really!  How do you think of nothing?  When I am running I think about how much I don’t want to run.  I think of grocery lists and appointments I need to make.  I keep looking at the time and distance on the treadmill’s monitor.  The little red digital numbers blink at me as if they are taunting me.  I check my heart rate monitor more often than necessary.  Minutes have to last longer when I am moving at 6.5 mph—they have to. 

I watch other gym members as they run, seemingly effortlessly, at higher rates of speed.  Their backsides don’t move as much as mine does.  And, as I do this I begin to have a conversation with myself that tells me to just pay attention to what I am doing, stop comparing myself to other people, get through the next 30 minutes, and try to relax the muscles in my face so that I am not grimacing.  Sometimes I even pray—just small prayers.  I ask for the strength to get through; to finish what I started.  What I have just described is only part of my thoughts.  Ugh…why do I do this again?

I do this because I want to be healthy.  I run because I love to feel strong.  I run because when it’s over I feel like I accomplished something good.  I run because I don’t want to gain back the 50 pounds I lost 3 years ago.  I run because I want to be a good example for my kids.  I run because I want John to know how much he influences me with his own healthy actions.  And, I run out of fear.  I have a small growth on one of my lungs that is being monitored.  When I run and I am winded, I think about that growth and I think that getting fresh oxygen into my body is a good way to fight whatever it is that is there.

I also do this because as John told me years ago, “you can’t out exercise a bad diet.”  I still track what I eat by writing it down at least 3 days a week.  When I track what goes into my mouth it’s more good stuff and less junk.  The running is just a piece of my own healthy “pie.”  Yes, I had to say pie because I need to create that visual in my mind.  I’m creating my own pie of experience, strength and hope.  My experience portion of the pie is pretty large.  The experience part is made up of foods I eat, and want to eat but avoid, my own life story, and lots of smaller ingredients.  But, as I continue to get healthier (in mind and body), my strength and hope portions of the pie will become more equal parts.  I think that sounds pretty cool and much more balanced. 

As we celebrate the start of 2013 I hope to see the surge at the gym continue.  I hope to see excitement carry on past January.  I hope to learn how to turn off my mind a little more with each turn on the treadmill. 

Happy New Year!  Here’s to healthy 2013.

When A Moment Changes Everything

My sweeties

On Thursday of last week I substitute taught in Sydney's 1st grade class.  1st graders are charismatic, eager to learn, full of wonder, and love, love, love to hug.  Sydney got up from her seat in regular intervals to hug me.  This insured many of her classmates followed her lead.  It made my heart full.  Little did I know how much I would still be thinking about those hugs today.

Friday I subbed for a teacher who splits his time between 4th and 5th graders.  He assists with instruction and has a small group of students who come to his room for support.  I liked it because it meant that I got to work in small groups, something I enjoy.  One of my duties to cover for this teacher was being present in the drop off line for parents who drive their kids to school.  I stood outside in the cold morning air, winter sun was shining through leafless trees.  I held onto my warm coffee mug and offered my "good morning" and "happy Friday" to the students as they got out of the cars in and walked into school.  I watched parents hug their kids over car seats and bulky winter coats.  I watched younger students turn to wave or give one last smile before darting off through the school doors.  I saw a few parents roll down the passenger window of the car to holler "I love you" or "have a good day."  I felt filled by this experience.  

I hadn't really thought of the drop off to school as personal, but it is.  It's in those tender moments that we, as parents, live out that remarkable quote, which President Obama so eloquently reminded us of when he spoke at a prayer vigil in Newtown on Sunday evening.  It was Elizabeth Stone who said, "Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."  We watch our children walk into school or board their school bus and part of us goes with them.  Part of ourselves is always with them.  It's the best parts. The parts that love and are filled with curiosity.

Near the end of the school day on Friday I had about 5 minutes to quickly check my email.  I read a short message from John alerting me that there had been a school shooting and not to turn on the TV in from of Elliot and Sydney.  John isn't always so direct, so I pulled up a news website and read the horrible headline. My heart sank and I logged off.  There is a song called "When A Moment Changes Everything" by David Gray that immediately flooded my thoughts.  How very, sadly, heartbreakingly true.  

Friday night we ordered pizza, ate together around our island in the kitchen.  We got some of the Christmas cookies out of the freezer and ate them.  I looked deeper into my kids' eyes.  I slowed down--a lot.  We sat all together on one couch and watched a silly movie.  John and I needed that.  And, our kids needed it.

My kids have no understanding of the horrible things some people are capable of.  For that, I am grateful.  I want to freeze time; make it stand still so that they never have to learn about this or other sadness.

As parents we feel this tragedy.  Our hearts break when we see the pictures of those adorable 1st graders.  This is an unimaginable tragedy.  I find myself just staring at Sydney.  But what do we do?  I can share what has bubbled to the surface of our hearts.  

A few months ago John began talking to me about adopting a mission statement for our family.  This statement would be visible when we enter our house and when guests are in our home.  We've kept the conversation open and I have been praying about it.  We agree on the foundation of what we want this statement to encompass.  Last night as Sydney and I were finishing up a craft I heard John writing on the chalkboard-pantry door.  I knew it was John because I heard Elliot ask, "what does that mean?"  John read the statement to Elliot.  Sydney ran out into the kitchen and read it herself.  I stayed in the craft room.  I closed my eyes and whispered "thank you."  

You see for me this was a moment when John was leading our family.  It was a moment when he solidified what our little family stands for.  It was a moment that will change everything.  The statement reads: We don't take the easy way out.

What the statement means is, we don't give up.  It means, we do the right thing, even when the right thing isn't the easy thing.  It means we stay true to who we are. 

I'm certain we will have some battles over the years as we stay true to this mission statement.  We will be tested by the kids time and time again.  But, I will not give into the easy thing.  

As far as Elliot is concerned...it would be easier not to kiss his cheek when I drop them off in the morning, as he sometimes pulls away because it's "embarrassing."  It would be easier to give in on our "no playing Xbox games rated 'M' rule," but we won't.  As far as Sydney goes...well, time will present challenges with her.  She's only 6 and it's not too difficult yet.  

What I saw in the drop off line Friday was so many parents not taking the easy way out.  They were saying the "I love yous" and giving the hugs--probably to some kids that wanted to pull away.   My kids mean too much to me to take the easy way out.  As that quote said, when we have a child our heart goes walking around outside of our body.  My kids are the reason I put my own career on hold, as so many of us moms do.  They are the reason I swallow my pride and drive a minivan (gulp!).  They are the reason John works long hours.  Let's face it, being a parent is the toughest job we'll ever love.

Let's all bind together to do something good for our families as a result of this unspeakable event.  Hug our kids tighter and tell them what they mean to us.  Not because it's easy, but because it's the right thing to do.   

Thank you for reading.

Thankful for Growth

 “Tree Woman” © Susan Flynn

I’m sitting down to write on the blog this morning.  I haven’t posted on the blog since September.  It’s not that I haven’t been writing because I have.  I have been writing more in my journal and in margins of books I am reading.  I’ve been collecting so much great information that it’s been difficult to hone in on one particular subject.  I have scattered thoughts; and it’s difficult to stitch together ideas, even though there are common themes. 

Some people call this writer's block.  For me, that isn’t exactly what this has been.  I’ve been going through a period of growth over the past few months.  I’m experiencing some growing pains.  I met a wise woman at a book club I went to yesterday.  She was sharing about personal growth and compared herself to a small shrub.  She said as a shrub she had been pruned so that new life would grow.  She’s slowly growing into something bigger and stronger.  She shared that at times the growth after the pruning is slow and delicate…buds form at an effortless rate.  Flowers open up in a timely manner, small green leaves form and slowly unroll.  It’s all very beautiful and feels good.  She also shared that at other times a new, large branch just shoots out from her.  She compared this growth as unexpected and painful.  This new branch takes some getting used to.

As I listened to her words, tears filled my eyes.  I could relate to her experience of growth…sometimes my own growth is slow and delicate and other times I have to work to find my balance again, to balance the new part of myself.  Lately I feel a bigger branch has grown, but not unexpectedly.  It’s the work of finding the balance again that is unexpected. 

I’ve been posting my 30 Days of Thankfulness to my Facebook page.  Even that has been difficult for me.  Not because I am not grateful.  I have SO much to be grateful for.  I just find myself in deeper thoughts and am having a difficult time putting into words what is on my mind and in my heart.  My internal processor has been working overtime. 

So, today I think I’ll try to keep it simple.  Simply stated, I am thankful for growth.  However delicate or painful it may be.  God has big plans for me!  I am a tree that has small flowers blooming and a new big branch sticking out that needs some foliage to balance it out.  I have exposed roots and even different seasons showing all at the same time.  This oddness represents where I have been, where I have grown from—the “seasons” I have been through.  If you see me trudge myself around in a different way than usual it’s just because I am trying to find my balance with this new, large branch.  But, I am so grateful for my funkiness. 

Thanks for reading.

*I found the amazing artwork by chance online.  It perfectly shows how I see myself! I need my artsy sister to make me a rendition.

Taking Care of Me

My shoe next to Elliot's shoe

I was involved in a really cool topical conversation yesterday about self-care.  The woman who brought up the topic shared that she is struggling to find a good balance of taking care of her own needs because she has recently assumed caring for her 14 month-old grandson.  She wanted the rest of us to share ways in which we care for ourselves.  There were lots of great suggestions such as reading, praying, journaling, yoga, calling a friend, and getting enough sleep.  I shared how I learned in my adult life a lesson about how I had not taken care of myself.  I had allowed my weight to reach it's height in 2006.  I had allowed my need to eat right and exercise to take a backseat to being a mom to young kids.  I took a journey in self-care through weight loss and personal growth.  If you are interested, you can read about that by clicking here.  In addition to that, I found the topic not just coincidental because I have recently come to realize how much I want to teach self-care to my children.  I shared a story about Elliot and decided to share it on the blog.

Elliot is 8 1/2 (he reminds me of the half A LOT).  He is an old soul.  He knows stuff most 8 year-olds don't find very interesting.  He's overly concerned with what time events, big and small, occur.  When he puts his mind to it, he can read an entire book in one day.  But, he has a slight delay when it comes to fine motor skills.  He struggles to have readable handwriting, and tying his shoes is a real chore.  Elliot is left-handed.  We had chalked up some of the struggle with his fine motor skills to his southpaw.  However, his neurosurgeon said it could be related to his arachnoid cyst.  Not knowing for certain, we just try to remain patient and offer compassion when he struggles. 

I was being a real "mom."  You know the kind who rescues her child when he struggles?  Every time we would prepare to leave the house, I was on my knees tying his shoes.  For whatever reason two weeks ago I decided I shouldn't do this anymore.  I think it was after I read a few things about codependency and then this quote from Denis Waitley that says, "The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence."  A fear came over me.  Am I making my son codependent on me through shoe tying?  I realize this is a stretch, but I also wonder if that's how unhealthy habits begin...in the small things.

So, since Elliot is time and date oriented I chose a day on the calender and told him that when that day arrived he would need to tie his own shoes.  Thanks to his left-handed Grandma Anne he really can do it.  He just doesn't like to because he struggles and the time it takes him is more than his 6 year-old sister to tie her own shoes.  When the day arrived last week he came to my bedroom with the laces dragging the carpet.  I reminded him that today was the day that he would need to take care of this himself.  He sat on the floor of my bedroom fumbling and sighing.  He wrestled the neon yellow laces without success.  I soooo wanted to rescue him at that moment, but I knew the right thing was to let him figure this out.

I left the room and went to pack lunches.  He reappeared in the kitchen over 10 minutes later with the laces still untied.  Then he looked at me and with a lot of frustration said, "I just can't do this, I can't."  I hugged him and said, "Yes you can.  You can do anything you set your mind to.  I believe in you and I know you can do this.  I want you to learn how to take care of yourself."  His big brown eyes filled up with tears.  I think it was partly because of the frustration but also because it touched his heart to know that I believed in him.  He went to school that morning with the laces tucked into his shoes, untied.

That morning I had done something that pushed him toward independence.  I drove away from the drop off zone with a heavy heart.  This isn't easy.  Watching Elliot struggle made my heart ache.  But I know that I love him; and he knows I love him.  I love him enough to let him fail sometimes.

See, I believe that if I can get my kids to care for themselves in small ways when they are small I am setting them up for the bigger stuff when they are bigger.  I know I take better care of them when I take better care of myself.  I try to model what behaviors I want to see in them.  If my needs always come last, how can I expect them to model any differently?  It's just the beginning of their roots of responsibility.  Being responsible for themselves and caring for themselves is important.  I don't think their wings of independence will fly them very far if I am hovering over them.  One day I want them to soar.  One day I know they will.

Thank you for reading.


 

The Middle Sister

Home in Grandview for a football game

I am a  middle sister.  I'm not the oldest.  I'm not the youngest.  Four years younger than Amy and five years older than Emily.  I am the middle.  Growing up I learned from my older sisters mishaps; and, I was able to influence my younger sister.  Other middles I have met complain about being the forgotten child.  There are times I guess that this could be true, but I look at more like the bridge between two destinations.  To visit either destination it makes the trip easier to have that bridge.  There are times when my sisters don't see eye to eye.  My older sister is artistic, the social one.  She is outgoing and adventurous--she enjoys taking risks.  My younger sister is disciplined and quieter.  She likes familiar things and routines.  They are very different, but they are also the same.  They are both amazing cooks.  They are extremely sentimental (I am too by the way.  I'm wring this with a lump in my throat.).  They laugh until they cry.  They love their children fiercely.  I get to be that bridge that brings the two together.  I do a pretty good job at this.  Heck, writing about that family role landed us as guests on the Oprah Show in 2002 (that's a story for another blog entry though). 

Aunt Jeanette, Gram & Aunt Betty:  Spaulding Family Reunion, Colorado 1995

A super cool thing about our family is that my dear, sweet grandmother is also from a family of three girls.  My Gram is also a middle sister.  She, like me, is sandwiched between her older, Jeanette and her younger, Betty Lou.  I've spent my life admiring the bond they share.  They can finish each other’s sentences and make each other laugh.  They each have deep faith in God and a love for family that transcends everything.  They are masters at making sense of God's plans for their lives.  They are each so very remarkable. 

This past week was the first time our family truly came face to face with the possibility of losing one of these treasures.  My Great Aunt Jeanette is recovering from a stroke.  Right now she is unable to speak.  I feel sad when I think of the conversations that may go unspoken.  But, I am focusing on the fact that my Gram and my Great Aunt Betty remain positive.  

Colorado 1995

I've been thinking over the past week about being an old lady with my sisters.  Will we walk arm and arm like I have seen my Gram do with her sisters?  Will we fill in those missing details of the family stories like they do?  We, like my Gram and her sisters, are spread apart across the country.  We FaceTime and text to ease the distance but we miss each other deeply.  There is something extraordinary about aging with someone who has known you your entire life.  My little sister is starting to get laugh lines around her mouth.  She may not be happy about this, but for me it signifies that we’ve seen each other through decades of life.  

There aren't enough words on a blog to express what my sisters mean to me.  How could I ever put into words what it means to be crying and angry with someone one minute and best friends the next?  It's like the ultimate example of true forgiveness.  No matter how much I could mess up my life they would pick me up and tell me everything is going to be OK.  It's just what we do.  

Christmas 1981

I spent years of my life attempting to create my identity separate from my sisters.  As a freshman in high school I spent that year breaking away from being “Amy’s little sister.”  I’ve probably pushed my little sister, harder than sometimes needed, to create her own identity too.   But, over this past week I have found myself profoundly grateful for both of them.  You see, I am still the middle sister; the center sister--that bridge.  But, I see it differently now.  There has to be a middle. Without it, nothing can ever truly be whole. Because it is not just the space between, but also what holds everything together.

I love you Amy and Emily.

Thank you for reading.

Hiking in the Hocking Hills