It seems that all around us people in various positions are trying to walk a fine line. The fine line between "military intervention" and an undeclared war. The fine line between radiation "exposure" and nuclear disaster. The fine line between Hating Dook and Loving Carolina. Now, even I realize that the last example is not within the same realm as the first two, in terms of magnitude. Nonetheless, this time of year for the TarHeel Nation, it is a VERY FINE, OFTEN FLUCTUATING, LINE.
As is typical of most folks I know, the boundaries we struggle with most often involve those closest to us. When does brotherly bonding become physical aggression between Jackson and Braeden? How do I know when to coddle, when to converse and when to kick ass? Is it really okay for me to harp on my husband about snacking late at night when my" fat" shorts from last summer are still eight pounds away? Am I really "happy" when my Rowdies complete a 5k or am I just "as happy as I can be" about it?
According to Henry Grayson, described by O magazine as imminent New York psychologist (so by God, he should know shouldn't he?), the degree of "specialness" we attribute to a relationship makes loving the "special" person more difficult. Which makes perfect sense when you think about it. Our society bombards with images and ingrained notions about how partners, lovers, best friends, siblings, parents and offspring ought to behave. But here in the Real World (and no, I don't mean the one on MTV where five complete strangers come together to see what happens when ....), in this Real World, our partners disappoint us, our lovers betray us, often with our best friends or our siblings, our parents continuously fall short and our children scream profanity at us in public. Not MY children, mind you, but other children I have seen and heard at Wal-Mart and Food Lion and on various sporting fields.
The eminent psychologist goes on to point out that it is not necessarily the actions of others that create our negative emotions. Rather it is that we have such unrealistic expectations of the role our loved ones will fill that we set ourselves up for heartbreak and pain. These expectations literally blind us to the love we once felt, or distance us from the bridges we are all seeking to build.
Which sounds great unless your lover/partner actually did run off with your nineteen year old sister and now they are pregnant with your seven year old daughter's step-sister/cousin. These kinds of scenarios have actually happened in a number of mediation cases I have had over the years...which always makes me grateful to come home to my "uncomplicated" life! Sounds like those folks are need of an "eminent" psychologist, but I doubt their particular means of transportation would make it as far as New York City.
And so, according to Henry Grayson, it is normal and natural that I walk a fine line with my best friend Angie. She is thinner than me, more fashionable than me, more patient than me and she writes a blog that is funnier and comes out more frequently than mine does. She also just bought a big house with a pool and a hot tub....all of which makes me feel "Tickled Green with Pride". Because we are best friends and we talk about EVERYTHING (word to the wise, and to our husbands!), I, of course, told her how happy I was for her and then blurted out that sometimes I felt soooo jealous! Not about the house so much as the blog and the fashion and the fact that the Bitch is SO SKINNY! She also happens to be more understanding and concerned for the feelings of others than I am so she was immediately went empathic and tried to convince me that there was nothing to be jealous of...how we would have great pool parties and she would help me shop for some cute summer things, blah, blah, blah. Then I reminded her of how she felt when my kids made the Honor Roll (again!) and her son struggles with learning issues that make him have to work twice as hard as the other kids in his class. She agreed, that she had felt happy and proud and envious, all at the same time.....Tickled Green with Pride.
So, I am wondering, if the unrealistic expectations we have of others affects how we perceive our relationships with them, how damaging are the unrealistic expectations we have for ourselves? To be SuperMoms, Ageless, Cellulite-less with Life-Changing Careers and Spotless Mansions? Are we really so angry at ourselves for being imperfect that we expect our loved ones to make us feel better about our lives by being more perfect? As I am not an eminent psychologist or an ageless, cellulite-less, supermom, I don't have the answers. But occasionally, I do have these moments when I can transcend all the bullshit that plagues me and I forget to try so hard.
Like when I am riding with Angie in her Red VW Convertible with the top down in the dark and we are singing Ke$ha songs...loudly. Or when my boys snuggle up to me, one on each side, clean and sweet after their showers, to watch WipeOut. Or when I have had just the right amount of Landshark (with lime), and I am swaying on the lawn with 20,000 other Parrotheads listening to Jimmy warble about being off the Coast of Carolina. My Perfect Life is made by stringing together enough of these moments that even for just a little while, I get over myself.
So, if you see me smiling and relaxing and feeling good about my life, I just have one request. Please DO NOT take my picture...I don't WANT to see how I look in print right now...and if you MUST take my picture...please make sure I am not standing next to Angie!
* if you want to read a hilarious, pee-your-pants kind of a blog, visit ettiquetteofirreverence@blogspot.com
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Takin' Care of Busy-Ness
"Hello Darkness, my old friend....I've come to talk to you again...Because a vision softly creeping...Left it's seeds while I was sleeping" - "Sounds of Silence", Simon and Garfunkel
Well, not exactly. Actually I am up at 3:58 am this Saturday morning because my youngest child tried to "sleep"-over at a friend's house and only manged to "sleep" until 3:07 am. How ironic that when he was three months old and he woke me up at 3:00 am to rescue him from hunger and the wooden bars of his crib I never felt as honored as I do now that he is 8 1/2 and wants me to come galloping up in my Ford Explorer to rescue him from the emptiness of waking up away from home. Just proves that it is all in your perspective isn't it?
I have been AWOL from the blogosphere for thirteen-plus days while the screaming demands of my day-to-day drowned out the whisperings of my creativity. Honestly, it is pretty damn hard to hear the voice inside your soul over the sounds of dinner waiting to be cooked, homework waiting to be checked, oil waiting to be changed and the roar of Monster Jam II for Wii. Imperceptibly, my creative voice is like a foreign film with sub-titles; she requires total focus and intense concentration if you want to understand what the hell she is trying to! And so, dear reader, I dedicate this blog to Braeden Thomas Miller, my baby (but don't tell him I called him that), who found a way to provide me with the solitude and silence I find necessary to write.
According to Webster via the World Wide Web, the word "busy" can be either an adjective or a verb, meaning, "engaged in action: occupied" or "full of activity: bustling"; both off which describe the state of my life the past two weeks. But Webster goes on to also offer "foolishly or intrusively active: meddling" or "full of distracting detail: busy design", which also describes my life during the past two weeks. According to O magazine, purveyor of wisdom for the modern woman, "busy-ness" is actually a state of mind that can be overcome or re-framed by focusing exclusively on one activity at a time and breathing through the valuable experience of each moment of your day. RIGHT! The reason I receive snippets of O magazine via e-mail is because I do not have time to focus on one activity....and because it would take me a month to actually drive to a store, purchase a paper copy and find time to read any magazine.
And lately, I have spent the valuable experience of each moment trying to CATCH my damn breath! But Oprah, or more accurately, Oprah's staff writers, make an excellent point. Life can easily get to a stage where you are Doing more than you are Being. Where you are Doing For those you love rather than Being With those you love. And if I have learned anything from being the mother of male children, I have learned that they don't care about clean floors, or folded laundry or paying the water bill. They care about shooting hoops, riding the go-kart and grilling hot dogs. They most certainly do not care that between now and Mother's Day, I am helping to plan a wedding, a pre-wedding party, a Spring Break trip, two Buffett concerts and a non-profit fundraiser. Oh yeah, and I am moving. And I also need to show up at my paying job occasionally, because according to Webster, one definition of "business" is "the principal activity in your life that you do to earn money: occupation."
I feel certain Oprah would tell me that my life is "full and abundant"...or, more likely, she would have one of her zillions of staff members post the message on her web magazine and forward it to my e-mail. Honestly and sincerely, I am not complaining and I know that I am not alone...everyone around me seems to be juggling as fast as they can right now. I also know that when I am at my busy-est with no time to breathe is the exactly when I should be making time to slow down and breath. But somedays I don't put "first things first" as Stephen Covey would say, rather I take the Ms. Pac-Man approach and gobble up energy and comfort where I can find it.
For instance, while this blog has been marinating in my head for the last few days I have been surviving on protein shakes and Sweettarts. Protein shakes because I don't want to look like Jabba the Hut in the wedding photos and Sweettarts because they are sweet and tart and I can eat five million of them before bedtime without ruining the "cleansing effect" of the protein drinks. (Sidebar: If you drink Atkins protein drinks on even a semi-regular basis, stay close to a well-ventilated toileting facility.) I have also been listening to the new Rihanna song, "S&M", very loudly, when the boys aren't in the car, not because I truly love the smell of "sex in the air", but because it makes me feel Rowdy to sing the line, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me." For posterity's sake, please note that chains and whips do not excite me...but the taboo of singing that line at the top of my lungs while racing from work activity #437 to Mom activity #876 sure does!
I know that I must be exactly where Fate intends me to be right now, because I stumble across inspiration in the oddest places. A t-shirt that reads, "If Karma doesn't hit you....I will." A Facebook message reminding me of a carefree springtime in Chapel Hill twenty-one years ago. My dearest friend finding comfort and peace in the new home he is making for himself and his children. A phone call at 3:07 am saying that someone wants to come home...to me...and the life I am making for mine.
I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a beat-up Ford pick-up last Monday. It said, "Just Because You Have One Doesn't Mean You Have To Be One." Immediately, I laughed at loud, realizing all the possibilities that captured by that one phrase. Since then, I have realized that just because I HAVE a To-Do list, doesn't mean I have to BE a To-Do list. So, as always, I am grateful for your concern and thank you for missing me. I have been missing me too. Starting now, 5:31 am, I am going to try to breathe...and smile...and give myself permission to do whatever it is I need to do in order to accomplish what I can get done. Full and Abundant....Full and Abundant....that sounds and feels so much better than "Busy." Go Heels!
Well, not exactly. Actually I am up at 3:58 am this Saturday morning because my youngest child tried to "sleep"-over at a friend's house and only manged to "sleep" until 3:07 am. How ironic that when he was three months old and he woke me up at 3:00 am to rescue him from hunger and the wooden bars of his crib I never felt as honored as I do now that he is 8 1/2 and wants me to come galloping up in my Ford Explorer to rescue him from the emptiness of waking up away from home. Just proves that it is all in your perspective isn't it?
I have been AWOL from the blogosphere for thirteen-plus days while the screaming demands of my day-to-day drowned out the whisperings of my creativity. Honestly, it is pretty damn hard to hear the voice inside your soul over the sounds of dinner waiting to be cooked, homework waiting to be checked, oil waiting to be changed and the roar of Monster Jam II for Wii. Imperceptibly, my creative voice is like a foreign film with sub-titles; she requires total focus and intense concentration if you want to understand what the hell she is trying to! And so, dear reader, I dedicate this blog to Braeden Thomas Miller, my baby (but don't tell him I called him that), who found a way to provide me with the solitude and silence I find necessary to write.
According to Webster via the World Wide Web, the word "busy" can be either an adjective or a verb, meaning, "engaged in action: occupied" or "full of activity: bustling"; both off which describe the state of my life the past two weeks. But Webster goes on to also offer "foolishly or intrusively active: meddling" or "full of distracting detail: busy design", which also describes my life during the past two weeks. According to O magazine, purveyor of wisdom for the modern woman, "busy-ness" is actually a state of mind that can be overcome or re-framed by focusing exclusively on one activity at a time and breathing through the valuable experience of each moment of your day. RIGHT! The reason I receive snippets of O magazine via e-mail is because I do not have time to focus on one activity....and because it would take me a month to actually drive to a store, purchase a paper copy and find time to read any magazine.
And lately, I have spent the valuable experience of each moment trying to CATCH my damn breath! But Oprah, or more accurately, Oprah's staff writers, make an excellent point. Life can easily get to a stage where you are Doing more than you are Being. Where you are Doing For those you love rather than Being With those you love. And if I have learned anything from being the mother of male children, I have learned that they don't care about clean floors, or folded laundry or paying the water bill. They care about shooting hoops, riding the go-kart and grilling hot dogs. They most certainly do not care that between now and Mother's Day, I am helping to plan a wedding, a pre-wedding party, a Spring Break trip, two Buffett concerts and a non-profit fundraiser. Oh yeah, and I am moving. And I also need to show up at my paying job occasionally, because according to Webster, one definition of "business" is "the principal activity in your life that you do to earn money: occupation."
I feel certain Oprah would tell me that my life is "full and abundant"...or, more likely, she would have one of her zillions of staff members post the message on her web magazine and forward it to my e-mail. Honestly and sincerely, I am not complaining and I know that I am not alone...everyone around me seems to be juggling as fast as they can right now. I also know that when I am at my busy-est with no time to breathe is the exactly when I should be making time to slow down and breath. But somedays I don't put "first things first" as Stephen Covey would say, rather I take the Ms. Pac-Man approach and gobble up energy and comfort where I can find it.
For instance, while this blog has been marinating in my head for the last few days I have been surviving on protein shakes and Sweettarts. Protein shakes because I don't want to look like Jabba the Hut in the wedding photos and Sweettarts because they are sweet and tart and I can eat five million of them before bedtime without ruining the "cleansing effect" of the protein drinks. (Sidebar: If you drink Atkins protein drinks on even a semi-regular basis, stay close to a well-ventilated toileting facility.) I have also been listening to the new Rihanna song, "S&M", very loudly, when the boys aren't in the car, not because I truly love the smell of "sex in the air", but because it makes me feel Rowdy to sing the line, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me." For posterity's sake, please note that chains and whips do not excite me...but the taboo of singing that line at the top of my lungs while racing from work activity #437 to Mom activity #876 sure does!
I know that I must be exactly where Fate intends me to be right now, because I stumble across inspiration in the oddest places. A t-shirt that reads, "If Karma doesn't hit you....I will." A Facebook message reminding me of a carefree springtime in Chapel Hill twenty-one years ago. My dearest friend finding comfort and peace in the new home he is making for himself and his children. A phone call at 3:07 am saying that someone wants to come home...to me...and the life I am making for mine.
I saw a bumper sticker on the back of a beat-up Ford pick-up last Monday. It said, "Just Because You Have One Doesn't Mean You Have To Be One." Immediately, I laughed at loud, realizing all the possibilities that captured by that one phrase. Since then, I have realized that just because I HAVE a To-Do list, doesn't mean I have to BE a To-Do list. So, as always, I am grateful for your concern and thank you for missing me. I have been missing me too. Starting now, 5:31 am, I am going to try to breathe...and smile...and give myself permission to do whatever it is I need to do in order to accomplish what I can get done. Full and Abundant....Full and Abundant....that sounds and feels so much better than "Busy." Go Heels!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Morning Musings
It is 6:53 AM on an overcast Saturday morning in scenic Madison, North Carolina. Baby LeBron* is sleeping peacefully in his Carolina bed and I am listening to the sound of birds chirping in the backyard while floating lazily in a river of Gratitude. Grateful for the return of Spring, grateful for the stretch of "normal" we have been experiencing lately, grateful for all of the adventure that lies ahead. I am delighted to be awake, alone and writing. During the activity of "normal" life I lose touch with the stillness and thought that my writing voice requires. Fleeting worries will dance through my mind while I am driving the kids to school or washing dishes....do I have anything of value to say today? When will my "voice" return? Will my voice return? Oh shit...did I just MISS MY TURN? Isn't it ironic how my artistic voice speaks to me in italics but my oh-shit voice screams at me in capital letters?
I view writing as a gift given to me by the Universe so that my head and heart will not explode from carrying around the lessons of my life. Truly, my life internal expresses itself solely at the times and places of its' choosing. Otherwise, why would I be up at 6:53 on a Saturday morning when the Early Riser is at a sleepover and the SleepyHead is still asleep? Undoubtedly, I am in the employ of the creative flow and not vice versa. But honestly, I feel deeply blessed when the life internal calls me to do her bidding.
For the majority of my life I have submitted my thoughts, feelings, anxieties and hopes to the Great Beyond by detailing them on lined paper in journals of every sort. I have amassed boxes of composition books and themed hard covers that I kept inconsistently since I was eleven years old. Putting the chaos on paper has provided me with the structure, perspective and mental storage space to keep moving through my experiences. And there are two trusted individuals who know where the boxes are kept in the event of my untimely demise. Although if I were to expire on a timely schedule I suppose these two would also know what to do. When I am gone the journals will either be publishable or perishable...but that won't be my decision as I will have moved on to my next form and I will either be helping or haunting some one else, depending upon the situation.
I have had a few folks wondering what I have been doing since the last post and the Mother of one Rowdy in particular seemed to be quite worried about my emotional state. As is typical for me, periods of calm follow my periods of storminess. The last week has been filled with dentist appointments, custody mediations, basketball practices and worries about fitting into my clothes from last spring and summer. There have been many productive conversations about an upcoming wedding ceremony, a Kentucky Derby fundraiser, Spring Break travel plans, budget cuts and soccer sign-ups. We have made the A Honor Roll for fourth grade, the A/B Honor Roll for third grade and been told that we are now "just friends" with a certain pink-haired girl. To overuse a Hallmark phrase, it has been Blissfully Normal. And to paraphrase The Carpenters, there is still "so much of Life ahead."
So we have "found a place where there's room to grow." Which, for those of you who don't speak in phrases from 1970's love songs, means that we are going to be moving to a bigger house with a fenced in backyard and room for the boys to ride bikes. And each one of them will have their own bedroom which will exponentially increase the potential for World Peace. We moved to our Happy Little House (less than 1000 square feet!) over five years ago when their family was in transition and it has been perfect for us...cozy, comforting, convenient and manageable...all dire necessities during times of transition. But their families with each of their parents have now been reincarnated and we need a space that will take them in the next phases of their lives...where their friends can spend the night, they can have a basketball goal for shooting hoops and more than one person can pee at a time. As often happens, the new house fell into our laps at the most opportune moment. And while I was once was a person who declared that "the next time I move, they will be putting me in the crazy house or a hole in the ground", I now view "home" as wherever the people I love gather and rest their heads. During the last five years I have traded trying to establish enduring traditions for doing what works best for most of us at any given time....a lesson I have painstakingly and repeatedly been taught by my three male companions. (Don't panic....I mean my husband and my sons...I am no longer allowed/required to have multiple male companions!)
So, between now and June 1st there are two Buffett concerts, the Harlem Globetrotters, a family wedding, End-of-Grade tests, Spring Break, Derby Days and we are moving. Oh yeah, and I will turn 46 in the midst of all that. In case you are interested, I have decided to have a Pink Pirate theme this year...if you know me at all, you know that I relish the day set aside to Celebrate Me and I will eagerly embrace any excuse to eat store-bought cake slathered with Crisco-powdered sugar icing! For those of you planning ahead, there are only 46 shopping days left! But, I digress....Suffice it to say, that life is going to be busy. And that is just the stuff I know about so far! I have lived long enough to know that when you are cruising along on the "normal" road, Fate will throw a few unexpected curves and detours at you just to teach you flexibility while you travel. But as of this morning, Spring is starting to unwind, and the Sun is preparing for her grand return. As Karen and Richard would say, "We've only just begun...to live..." Again!
* Braeden has secretly nicknamed himself, "Baby LeBron" for his basketball prowess. I have learned from two unpleasant experiences that I am not allowed to refer to him that way in public. And someday he will learn the hard way that when your Mom blogs, no one's secrets are safe! For now, shhhh....it is our little secret and he is asleep!
I view writing as a gift given to me by the Universe so that my head and heart will not explode from carrying around the lessons of my life. Truly, my life internal expresses itself solely at the times and places of its' choosing. Otherwise, why would I be up at 6:53 on a Saturday morning when the Early Riser is at a sleepover and the SleepyHead is still asleep? Undoubtedly, I am in the employ of the creative flow and not vice versa. But honestly, I feel deeply blessed when the life internal calls me to do her bidding.
For the majority of my life I have submitted my thoughts, feelings, anxieties and hopes to the Great Beyond by detailing them on lined paper in journals of every sort. I have amassed boxes of composition books and themed hard covers that I kept inconsistently since I was eleven years old. Putting the chaos on paper has provided me with the structure, perspective and mental storage space to keep moving through my experiences. And there are two trusted individuals who know where the boxes are kept in the event of my untimely demise. Although if I were to expire on a timely schedule I suppose these two would also know what to do. When I am gone the journals will either be publishable or perishable...but that won't be my decision as I will have moved on to my next form and I will either be helping or haunting some one else, depending upon the situation.
I have had a few folks wondering what I have been doing since the last post and the Mother of one Rowdy in particular seemed to be quite worried about my emotional state. As is typical for me, periods of calm follow my periods of storminess. The last week has been filled with dentist appointments, custody mediations, basketball practices and worries about fitting into my clothes from last spring and summer. There have been many productive conversations about an upcoming wedding ceremony, a Kentucky Derby fundraiser, Spring Break travel plans, budget cuts and soccer sign-ups. We have made the A Honor Roll for fourth grade, the A/B Honor Roll for third grade and been told that we are now "just friends" with a certain pink-haired girl. To overuse a Hallmark phrase, it has been Blissfully Normal. And to paraphrase The Carpenters, there is still "so much of Life ahead."
So we have "found a place where there's room to grow." Which, for those of you who don't speak in phrases from 1970's love songs, means that we are going to be moving to a bigger house with a fenced in backyard and room for the boys to ride bikes. And each one of them will have their own bedroom which will exponentially increase the potential for World Peace. We moved to our Happy Little House (less than 1000 square feet!) over five years ago when their family was in transition and it has been perfect for us...cozy, comforting, convenient and manageable...all dire necessities during times of transition. But their families with each of their parents have now been reincarnated and we need a space that will take them in the next phases of their lives...where their friends can spend the night, they can have a basketball goal for shooting hoops and more than one person can pee at a time. As often happens, the new house fell into our laps at the most opportune moment. And while I was once was a person who declared that "the next time I move, they will be putting me in the crazy house or a hole in the ground", I now view "home" as wherever the people I love gather and rest their heads. During the last five years I have traded trying to establish enduring traditions for doing what works best for most of us at any given time....a lesson I have painstakingly and repeatedly been taught by my three male companions. (Don't panic....I mean my husband and my sons...I am no longer allowed/required to have multiple male companions!)
So, between now and June 1st there are two Buffett concerts, the Harlem Globetrotters, a family wedding, End-of-Grade tests, Spring Break, Derby Days and we are moving. Oh yeah, and I will turn 46 in the midst of all that. In case you are interested, I have decided to have a Pink Pirate theme this year...if you know me at all, you know that I relish the day set aside to Celebrate Me and I will eagerly embrace any excuse to eat store-bought cake slathered with Crisco-powdered sugar icing! For those of you planning ahead, there are only 46 shopping days left! But, I digress....Suffice it to say, that life is going to be busy. And that is just the stuff I know about so far! I have lived long enough to know that when you are cruising along on the "normal" road, Fate will throw a few unexpected curves and detours at you just to teach you flexibility while you travel. But as of this morning, Spring is starting to unwind, and the Sun is preparing for her grand return. As Karen and Richard would say, "We've only just begun...to live..." Again!
* Braeden has secretly nicknamed himself, "Baby LeBron" for his basketball prowess. I have learned from two unpleasant experiences that I am not allowed to refer to him that way in public. And someday he will learn the hard way that when your Mom blogs, no one's secrets are safe! For now, shhhh....it is our little secret and he is asleep!
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