Sick of it all

I think it's morning sickness (by the way, are there really people out there who have true "morning" sickness? If so, I hate you. Okay, that's not fair. I don't hate you, but I am really very jealous).  Anyway, back to the topic at hand. I think maybe because I'm not feeling well at present (did I mention I'm pregnant?) I have no patience for much of anything. I'm fed up. Everywhere I turn there are angry people venting about this or that political topic, citing media sources from one extreme or the other. There are angry feminists, angry misogynists, angry communists, angry capitalists, and so on up and down the spectrum. Everyone is absolutely one hundred percent sure they're right and there is no room for negotiation.

I should start by saying I tend to be quite conservative, politically, and in life in general. Conservativism has, unfortunately come to represent close-mindedness. I don't consider myself to be close-minded. I have come to have certain beliefs based on study and reflection and usually find that what I feel is right aligns most with a more conservative point of view. That being said, I don't like republican politicians any more than I like democratic politicians. They're almost all a fake, slimy, pandering bunch. Of course there are always exceptions, but unfortunately for them and the country they have trouble rising in power because they're not slimy enough.

But I digress.

Today as I scanned over my Facebook newsfeed I felt disgusted as I read one after another ridiculously slanted political post. Then I saw a news story about a little girl from Illinois whose body was found near her home. I thought about her poor family and how they must be feeling. That's when I realized why I hate all of these political posts. It's because we should be worried about other things-- or other people, that is. People. That's what we should worry about. Not causes.

When there are people who don't have a home or food to eat, why do we continue to fight about whether or not the government should use religious organizations to meet those needs? Why do we care where that food comes from?

While there are children dying and parents mourning, why are there people in the world so concerned with fighting for women to have the right to kill their unborn children so that they can escape  the consequences of their actions?

When there are people in other countries living in shacks and eating gruel (if they're lucky), why do we resist the efforts by our government to give foreign aid? Poverty in American has NOTHING on poverty in much of the world. Our poor seem wealthy in comparison.

While we watch governments oppress, abuse, neglect, even kill their own citizens, why are we so concerned with keeping foreigners out of our borders? America as a nation came to be only because someone wanted to escape their country to a new land. Why should we deny others that same privilege?

I guess what I'm trying to say is not that we shouldn't ever worry about causes. Rather, what I'm trying to say is that we ought to, when thinking of  which causes to support, think about what will really help people rather than espousing only the causes that align with our political party of choice. And we need to knock off the bickering. It's so pointless, so very unproductive, and helps nobody. And, in my opinion, that's the whole purpose of this life-- to help other people. And we can't do that by fighting with them.

Why I Like Dads

Several years ago my mom invited all the girls out to Utah for a fun girls' night in Salt Lake City. We left the kiddos at mom and dad's house with the men and stayed the night in a hotel downtown. When we returned the next morning we found the following scene:

Almost all of the kids were in the swimsuits and were covered in mud. Excepting Michael, who was in the same romper he'd been wearing the previous day. He was covered in mud and his romper was unsnapped and hanging down like a dress. My second brother's oldest daughter was wearing her swimming suit backwards and inside out. And, again, covered in mud. But that didn't matter. None of it did. Because they were all smiling & looking like they'd just had the best time of their lives. But the poor men looked like they'd been through war. So did the house. Trashed. Completely. Try to imagine it and you will be way off. Really. I think we may have got them in a little over their heads, but they didn't complain.

I think of that morning every time I see a dad show up to church alone with the kids. Mom is out of town and daddy is in charge. I grin and inspect the kids. The girls always suffer the most. Even with the list of instructions about 10 pages long that I imagine their wives left them, they can only do the best they know how. Putting a bow in a little girl's hair is not as easy as we moms make it look. Brushing the snarls out is near impossible without some sort of training. And finding clothes that fit the child is not necessarily a skill you're born with. These things take time to learn.

I'm sure bedtime routines are sort of skimmed over. Bedtime is either much later or earlier than it is when mom is home. The kids may or may not brush their teeth thoroughly. They may or may not brush their teeth at all. Try not to think about it. Breakfast is definitely not whole wheat toast, sliced fruit, and yogurt. Try pop tarts. The dinner plate may look a little different. No vegetable, starch, fruit, protein. Unless you count the tomato sauce on frozen pizza as a fruit and a vegetable.

And I'm sure those aren't the only areas in which these dads are sort of skimming over the list of instructions. Dads have a different agenda than moms. That's just the way it is. Moms, because we have these great maternal instincts, feel a grave responsibility to make sure our kids are clean, well fed, well mannered, smart, and dressed to the nines. Dads care basically about two things: that the kids are having fun and they, the dads, are having fun. And that is why we need dads. They make sure the kids get their unstructured, unplanned, spontaneous fun. Don't get me wrong-- we need moms, too, or our kids would go about wearing swimsuits inside out and backwards, covered in mud. But without dads I wouldn't have this grin on my face, thinking about my niece, her swimming suit inside out, backwards, covered in mud, a big smile on her face.

Angel Mothers

Believe it or not, many women hate Mother's Day.

Women who would like to be mothers but have not yet that the opportunity feel excluded. Women who have lost a child find it a very emotionally trying day.

And even the women who have all of their children alive and well can begin to hate mother's day. I have heard some women express that they hate hearing about all of the perfect mothers in the world. It makes them feel even more inadequate in comparison.

But let's face it. Nobody's mother is perfectly angelic. We all fall short of the mark from time to time. Or more often than that.

Below is the post I wrote about my own mother in honor of the holiday:

"Happy Mother's Day!! I am sitting here tonight thinking about my own mother. She is the epitome of optimism. If something bad happens she works overtime to find the silver lining. She is almost always happy, smiliing. She's intensely interested in other people, even someone she just met. I never wonder whether she will want to help me out of a bind or whether she will be interested in my latest news-- she always makes me feel important. Growing up she filled our home with good books, beautiful music, and delicious food. I am proud to have her as my mother."

 

Doesn't she sound perfect?

 

What I didn't say about my mom is that she was always misplacing things. The cordless phone would be missing and we'd find it in the dishwasher (thankfully before it was washed) or the refrigerator or some such place. She was forgetful. She would forget to pick kids up from school or forget to sign permission slips (for heaven's sake, the poor woman had six children and a husband who had to work a lot). She lost her temper sometimes and yelled at her kids. Her house wasn't always clean and her life wasn't always organized. She didn't feed us organic foods. Maybe we ate too much white bread and not enough leafy green vegetables. She had no idea how to style my crazy, frizzy curls and sometimes she made the mistake of letting the hairstylist turn me into little orphan Annie.

 

BUT what you should also know is that when my mom realized she left the phone in the dishwasher she would always willingly have a good laugh at her mistake. By watching my mom I LEARNED TO BE ABLE TO LAUGH AT MYSELF (which is good, since I have plenty of material).

 

When my mom forgot things she ought to have remembered she didn't get bent out of shape. She just apologized and moved on. From my mom I LEARNED TO NOT SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF.

 

When my mom made the mistake of yelling at one of her children she apologized and made sure we felt loved. She taught me to be willing to apologize when I was wrong and to NEVER GO TO BED MAD.

 

The fact that my mom's house wasn't always clean or her life perfectly organized was the result of my mom having greater priorities. She showed me that it's more important to GIVE YOUR CHILDREN YOUR TIME AND ATTENTION than it is to give your house your time and attention.

 

 Although my mom let me eat too much white bread and not enough organic produce, at least she fed us white bread she baked herself and cookies and treats she prepared for us with her own hands. From my mom I learned A LOVE FOR BAKING (I do wish she could have instilled in me a love for washing up the dishes afterwards, but, alas, she had no luck there).  

 

My mom couldn't get my hair just right and she didn't buy me the latest fashions. She didn't worry about those things. She didn't leave her children looking unkempt, but she also taught me that my APPEARANCE WAS LESS IMPORTANT THAN WHAT WAS ON THE INSIDE. She wanted her children to be kind and good.

 

I'm glad to know my mom isn't perfect. Her imperfections are part of who she is. And we mothers all ought to embrace our inadequacies because through them our children will learn how to face their own shortcomings in life. Dear moms of the world, love yourselves, all of yourselves, as much as you love your dear children. Embrace Mother's Day as a chance to focus on the things you're good at instead of your weak areas. After all, you're just doing the best you can with the gifts you've been given.

 

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy, believe it or not

Lately something has been churning below the surface in my mind. And it finally came to the surface and I realized something: I'M HAPPY.

I do NOT have a perfect life (although I am very blessed). But, as it turns out, a perfect life is not necessary in order to be happy. I have decided I'm going to be happy, to think the best of others, to search for the good in my life and in the world in general, to do the things that allow me to stay happy.

But I'm frustrated with the people of the world who think I (or others like me) should not be happy. Because, as it turns out, I need to lose some weight. Quite a bit, actually. I was skinny most of my life, but I'm older and I've had two babies and I have a harder time staying thin now.

I don't necessarily like the way I look in the mirror. Or in pictures. BUT that has little to do with my happiness. It has to do with what everyone else thinks more than what I think. I want to lose weight to be healthy. But not in order to be happy. I am happy now and I hope to be happy when I am thin, but I want to always be able to remember one thing: happy is a state of mind. I can be happy no matter how I look. Unfortunately, the world in general is not happy with how I look.

You can't miss the message the world is sending. I would be willing to bet about half of all pins or posts on the internet have something to do with how to be skinnier, or how to live longer, or something else related to looking any way other than how I look right now. If a person is overweight and WANTS to know how to lose weight, then it would be EASY for that person to find the information needed. But if a person's focus is elsewhere at that moment the deluge of information might be a negative, constant reminder to someone of his or her imperfections. Being constantly reminded of how bad you look or how bad your eating choices are can have the opposite affect than the one intended. "Helpful" people think they're giving you useful information when what they're really doing is making you feel GUILTY. When I feel guilty I want to go eat a cookie. When I feel motivated I want to go for a walk and eat a salad.

How do you motivate someone to exercise and diet? That's a good question. First, let me tell you how NOT to motivate someone to exercise and diet. DON'T constantly remind them that they are fat or that the food they're eating is POISON or that they've made a lot of BAD choices (even if you don't say it outright, constantly sharing information nobody asked for is really not helpful). Also, if you weight 100 pounds LESS than the person, don't constantly call yourself fat or talk about how you can't eat the cheesecake your overweight friend is eating because you would be fat if you did. Surely you can see how these things might just lead someone to binge eat or go put on some sweat pants and crawl into bed because they feel so very unnattractive.

Instead, help your friend to love him or herself NOW, no matter what size. This will make them LESS likely to want to eat cookies. Helping someone to feel happy is a much better motivator than helping them to recognize how fat and unhealthy they are. THEN after you have helped them feel loved and accepted, invite them to do healthy activities with you THAT THEY CAN ACTUALLY DO. Don't ask someone who has never run before in his or her life to come run five miles with you. Instead, ask if they'll go for a walk with you. Ask them to come to the swimming pool or to take a Zumba class. Start at their level, and help them gradually get better.

BUT when it comes down to it, you don't get to decide for someone else what they eat or what activities they engage in. Nor should you judge them based on those choices, because you just never know what other battles a person is fighting. You could find they have health or emotional problems that cause weight gain. Or you might find out that their focus right now is elsewhere. Their current goal might be their spiritual well-being and their physical well-being is next on their list. It might just not be the MOST important thing in their life at present and that's okay. In fact, it's important to always put things in perspective. The OBSESSION our world has with being skinny and living longer is excessive. We ought to think of weightier things first.

BOTTOM LINE, just knock it off. Don't judge based on appearances, period. We learned in ELEMENTARY not to judge a book by its cover. But for some reason that lesson has been truly applied. It's the personality, the deeds, the words, the thoughts that matter. Love someone for the kind of person they truly are, not the kind of person they APPEAR to be.

Gene's Barbecue: Biker's Welcome

A little memory from a trip I took with my parents when my youngest was a baby...

We stopped in Brinkley, Arkansas for lunch. We were sick of fast food, so we found a place called Gene's Barbecue. It looked busy, which was a good sign. The parking lot was full of pickups. My tiny Kia Soectra looked a little out of place.

We walked into the dining room, which was about the size of my kitchen at home. One huge banquet table was filled entirely with men & boys in camouflage. The rest of the diners look pretty normal. As soon as we stepped inside the room went silent. We waited by the door for someone to greet us, seat us, or tell us to go away. None of these things happened, so we just sat down. And waited. And we kept on waiting. The conversations around us were whispered and the other guests kept peeking over at us. I was waiting for the moment when someone would saunter up to our table and say, "We don't too much like strangers 'round these parts." I tried to keep my 4 year old entertained & quiet with the tools at my disposal-- packets of artificial sweetener, ketchup, tabasco, and steak sauce. The baby started fussing and then we got more stares, so I took him out of his seat and held him.

Someone eventually brought us a menu and said they'd be around to take our order soon. We felt encouraged; we had menus! They must be willing to give us food, too. The food sure sounded good. Barbecued pork, fried chicken. Great southern fare.My 4 year old was looking forward to some pancakes and sausage. We waited-- our mouths watering-- for the waitress. She came out of the kitchen and took the order of the diners who came in after us. They were closer to the kitchen. That's probably why she took their order first. Right? And then she commenced to take the orders of everyone who came in after us, walking right past our table in order to do so. We kept saying,"If she doesn't take our order after those guys, let's leave." Finally we just got up and left. And I swear I heard a huge sigh of relief.

As we drove off, my mom pointed to the sign outside. It said "Bikers welcome."

Q & A

The way a mother answers a question:

Kid: "Mom, when was the word quiz invented?"
Mom: "That is a very good question. I don't know. We should go look it up on the Internet."

The way a father answers a question:

Kid: "Dad, when was the word quiz invented?"
Dad: "February 1, 1823. It was invented by George Quiz of Boston, Massachusetts. He was a school teacher. He wanted school to be harder for the kids. Interestingly enough,
he actually did very poorly in school when he was a kid. But he made millions of dollars on his invention & was able to stop teaching school and married a beautiful woman named Poppy, but all of her friends called her 'Pop.' So, for the rest of her life she was known as 'Pop Quiz,' which, incidentally, is where the phrase 'Pop Quiz' came from, which made the Quiz family even wealthier & school even harder for the kids."
Kid: "Wow, Dad, you know everything."
Dad: "I know."

Nebraska, possibilities...endless

All states have slogans they post on signs and literature to hopefully lure people to their state, either as new residents or visitors. But the slogans are too non-specific. In Nebraska the possibilities are endless. I would like to know, before entering the state, some of the things I might expect to happen to me while there. Then I could make a truly informed decision.

Here are some more specific slogans, based on things that actually happened to me in some states I have visited (or lived in):

CALIFORNIA... you could expect to possibly see naked old people on the beach.

UTAH... you might get your credit card and car keys stolen from you by a pedophile.

NEBRASKA... you could possibly gain a couple of pounds.

IOWA... you might accidentally lock your 2-year-old in the car at a rest area.

MISSOURI... you maybe will break your two front teeth in the swimming pool.

INDIANA... you might be asked to dress up as a man for a high school musical.

ILLINOIS... your car could break down on the interstate and you might have to carpool with a drunk lady to a hotel (but in all fairness you might not know she is drunk when you accept the ride).

LOUSIANA... you will experience heartburn.

Christmas Surprise

I think it was the Christmas when I was in 4th grade. I had read the classic Judy Blume coming-of-age story "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret." Now, some say that story is all about finding God. But to me, at the time, it was all about the training bra. I had noticed some of my friends wearing training bras at school and, because I read that book, I knew I needed one, too. But how could I possibly bring that subject up to my mom? It just was not possible for a kid like me to broach that subject. And so I just hoped. And hoped. And maybe pushed my chest out just a little to show that I had a need for some support. And possibly pulled my shirt a little tighter. But just possibly. Did I recite the mantra, "I must, I must, I must increase my bust?" I'll never tell. But probably not.

On Christmas morning my mom gave me a present and told me I might want to open it separately, without everyone watching. I thought, "Could it be? No way! I never even told her. How could she have known? Maybe she read that book, too." And I carefully peeled the paper away to display my new.... training bra! I was excited and embarrassed all at once. I quickly stuffed it under a pillow on the couch so my brothers wouldn't see it, which of course was a terrible hiding place and one of them found it later. Brothers. I should write a post about brothers sometime.

Anyway, funny that a training bra should be one of the most memorable Christmas presents for me. I guess what's most memorable is that my mom figured it out. Maybe she read the book, too.

On Productivity

There are two household chores I hate with an extra dose of vengeance: washing dishes and scrubbing the master bathroom. As I was avoiding both today it occurred to me that avoiding those two jobs makes me, strangely, more productive. I use a no holds barred approach in my campaign to procrastinate doing those two duties. By the end of the day I will look around to see the wash done, beds made, iPod charged, bills paid, sharing time lesson for Sunday planned, blog updated, the flower beds weeded, letters written, errands run, children's hair cut, newspapers read and recycled, stories read, baths given, and everyone tucked in on time (or close to it).

But those two rooms will still look like a homeless person set up camp in them (no offense to homeless people. They are not generally known for their cleanliness, but I'm sure there are some who are quite tidy).

If I hired someone to do those jobs for me, then would my entire house finally be clean? I doubt it. Knowing I have those hateful chores to do is my source of power. That thought drives me to clean everything else in my house, to catch up on the odds and ends sort of jobs for school and church, to write blog posts which otherwise may never have been written, and so much more. I must do the dreaded tasks, eventually (it will be late at night when all my other excuses are gone), and I will, but I have to go into it knowing that I will have do them again. And so the next day the cycle will begin again until I find I have, somehow, cleaned my entire house without even planning to do so. And then I will have to give in and scrub that massive shower and gigantic tub-- again (bigger is not always better, friends) and I must rinse those dang dishes so my family can eat tomorrow (they always insist on eating, don't they?). I wish it could be easier. But I don't feel hopeful that I will ever become someone other than the sort of person I am now. Maybe I will improve in some areas, but I don't think I will ever stop procrastinating chores I hate to do. If you disapprove, well, you are more than welcome to show up at my house with a sponge and a can of scrubbing bubbles. But don't let me know you're coming or nothing else will ever happen around here.

Amy's Fitness Plan

(originally posted in 2009)

Just like a lot of you out there, I'm really hoping to end 2009 with a skinnier waistline than I had at the end of 2008. I don't have a gym membership right now, so I'm trying to figure out how to shed the extra pounds. I've had to be creative. I came up with a plan that I think you all should try. But when you do it, make sure you give me credit. Don't try to pass it off as your own idea. The only thing I still have to do is find out how many calories are burned while doing the following activities from a fairly typical week:

Jump up and down and flap arms to stay warm while filling the car with gas.

Make 2 extra trips up & down the stairs at night because 1.you forgot the baby monitor and 2. forgot to take your birth control (if you do this, make sure you don't remember both in the same trip, because that's fewer calories burned).

Maybe an extra trip up & down the stairs because you forgot that your pajamas were in the dryer still (don't fold your laundry & put it away all at once right after the dryer buzzes; make sure you have to go fetch each item piecemeal. More calories. Always think calories. Never efficiency).

Go outside, bring the trash can into the garage, and walk back into the house.

Go back outside, get the mail you forgot to get when you brought the trash can inside, walk back into the house with the mail.

Go back outside, pick up the newspaper you forgot to get when you brought the trash can inside & forgot again when you got the mail. The newspaper could be anywhere, so make sure you check your neighbor's front yard, the sidewalk in front of their house, the curb in front of the neighbor's house, or the middle of the street (also in front of the neighbor's house). But don't bother checking your own driveway or sidewalk or yard; that hardly ever happens. Then go back into the house.

Again, notice the pure inefficiency. That's the key to my fitness plan: inefficiency. And forgetfulness.

Stomp up the stairs to shut 5-year-old's bedroom door since he won't settle down to sleep. Then stomp back downstairs, ignoring his crying.

Vacuum house, then vacuum again a couple of days later just to get 5-year-old (who is terrified of the vacuum because he thinks the vacuum will suck up his books & toys) to pick up his room & playroom. And if you're feeling really mean, you could get him to pick up your bedroom as well.

Walk upstairs to get baby from crib because he's definitely not going to sleep. Walk back up 5 minutes later because, yep, he's definitely ready for a nap.

I'm still working on my diet plan. I need to find one that allows me to eat a brownie for breakfast. I just haven't found it yet.

"Practically Imperfect In Every Way"

I was recently reading a blog whose author claimed to be "practically imperfect in every way." When I saw that claim I was excited. I thought, "Oh, good, someone like me!" But the first post I saw was a recipe for something I could never make, complete with a professional-looking photo of said meal that I could never take in my wildest dreams (you should see my photos; they're terrible). And the next few posts followed suit.

I admit I enjoyed some of the posts on the blog (they were funny) and the recipes looked delicious. And of course there's nothing wrong with being good at cooking and photography (I wish I were). BUT I really began to hate this woman and all she stood for. What is with all of the women of the world claiming to be imperfect (which of course we all ARE imperfect) yet when we have a chance to share part of ourselves we decide to only display those parts of us which look pretty close to perfect? It's the old joke about cleaning the house and then when the guests arrive apologizing for the mess.

I'm guilty of this, too. I claim to have a dirty house (and, actually, I do, just ask my family) but if I take a picture I make sure my kids are NOT standing in front of my cluttered desk. And if I invite friends over I clean the house before they come over until it looks like nobody lives in it. I don't allow anyone outside my immediate family to see how I really live (they would probably be pretty disgusted).

The problem is we read blogs or look at pictures on Facebook and we all start to get a complex about ourselves. We think we're the only ones who have dirty houses or yell at our kids or have acne or feel fat or feel sad or feel lonely even when we're surrounded by people or have kids who misbehave or kids who wear their shirts backwards and their shoes on the wrong feet. 

I remember a long time ago a friend of mine just shaking her head in complete bewilderment over the fact that she had actually yelled at her kids once. ONCE. Maybe she really was that perfect or maybe she didn't want me to know the truth. I want to know the truth (up to a point, of course). I don't want to know how anyone's sex life is (please keep THAT private, thank you very much).  But I do want to know if my friends struggle. I want to know for selfish reasons (it makes me feel normal) and I want to know because then I can be a better friend. I can maybe HELP my friend.

We don't want to admit we have a hard time and we don't want to accept help. But I LOVE it when I can help a friend out in a pinch. There is no better feeling than knowing I made someone else's day a little easier. Even if my own day was pretty much awful it will immediately feel better if I can help someone.

I also LOVE knowing a friend trusts me enough to be honest with me about who she really is and what she struggles with because her imperfections are as much a part of her as her strengths are.

We're not doing our friends any favors by hiding our imperfections from them. Let's resist the urge to pretend we're perfect. Let's let our friends visit without cleaning up our houses (this is the hardest for me). Let's take pictures of kids with food on their faces (that's what they look like most the time anyway, let's admit it). Let's admit those things that are hard for us or admit when we're having a hard day. Let's allow people to help us.  Let's stop trying live a catalog family life or we'll all discover someday all we have are catalog family friendships, all superficial and glossy but never real or deep or meaningful. And I don't want to live in a catalog.

I Want to Be Me

I was recently tormenting myself by going over an incident in my past when I opened my mouth and made a fool of myself.  Cheeks flushed, I thought about the fact I never will make that mistake now that I have learned to keep that part of myself hidden. And then I stopped and thought how sad it is I felt I had to learn to hide a part of myself from the world because I thought they would not approve (and I was probably right). Although there is a refining process we should all go through in this life, where we become the best version of ourselves, nobody should have to pretend to be someone else entirely in order to have acceptance and friendship.

We've all probably felt pressure to conform our inner selves to what's acceptable. The problem is there are messages being drilled into our brains from the beginning of our consciousness until the day we day that pressure us to feel like what we are isn't good enough.

SPEAK UP

If you are a quiet or shy person you can probably relate to how I'm feeling. I'm naturally very shy but I wouldn't exactly call myself quiet. Once I feel comfortable around someone I have no trouble talking. The trouble comes with getting someone to stick around long enough to get me feeling comfortable enough to convince them I'm not as boring as I seem at face value. But in the meantime I'm constantly attacked with propaganda from the extroverts of society who can't understand that being shy is not a bad thing.

My high school Geometry teacher gave me a C in Citizenship because I didn't talk in class enough. Her reasoning was that I wasn't doing well on the tests and so I should have been asking more questions. But I don't learn that way and I certainly wouldn't have know what question to ask. How about this one: "Can you explain ALL of Geometry to me? I don't get it." So instead of finding a way to reach me she punished me for being shy with a bad grade. The next year when I took Algebra II and my teacher sat down one on one with me after school to help me understand the subject better I received the highest score on the final. THAT is how I operate. I need time to let things simmer and I need to not be put on the spot in front of an entire class. One of those teachers understood that people are not all the same AND, what's better, she was okay with it. I wish I had gone back and told that Geometry teacher how wrong her approach had been, but that kind of thing is not my strength, as you can imagine.

DON'T BE SO NICE

Speaking my mind is not something I'm good at in general. I don't like to hurt feelings. So many people over the course of my life have told me that I should just stop being so nice and just tell people exactly what I'm thinking. I'm told my approach is passive aggressive. But personally I would prefer to be guilty of the occasional passive aggressive approach than to be guilty of actual aggressiveness. The brutally honest people of the world have hurt my feelings enough for me to not want to be the one making someone feel that way. There are plenty of people in this world who will tell a person exactly what they're thinking; I think there should be some of us who will be kind and gentle.

I don't pretend I always properly apply my approach. Sometimes I have been guilty of lying to protect someone's feelings. I don't think I should lie and I'm not going to justify it. BUT I also don't see why I should have to say something unkind or harsh when I can easily pass on the same message in a gentler way.

There are situations in which I have had to grit my teeth and be brutally honest. In various leadership positions throughout my life I often have had to be that person. But I want it to be the exception rather than the rule. I don't want people to think I'm trying to hide my true feelings from them just to be considered "nice." Rather, I want them to know that whether I agree with them or not, whether I am happy with their choices or not that I will not treat them harshly or unkindly.

DON'T GET TOO EXCITED

I think part of being kind is letting someone know I'm happy to see them. In the aforementioned situation in which I made a fool of myself it was because I was too openly excited about something or other. You know when you're a little girl and you walk around holding hands with your best friend and squeal when you see her coming your way? But when you get older you have to act all cool as if it's all the same to you whether your friends come or go? At least that's what I observed and tried to mimic. It seems like the older we get the more pretending we do. Shouldn't it be the other way around??

I like people and I want to be excited to see them if I run into them at the grocery store or even just in the hallway at church. And if someone invites me to spend time with them I don't like to turn them down because I love spending time with my friends any chance I can get. And I won't squeal like a little girl, but I don't want to pretend I'm not excited. I am. I am shy and I can be socially awkward, but I will brave society so I can be with the people who are important to me. And I will usually have fun once I get comfortable with my surroundings, as long as I am surrounded by people who will let me be myself.

All my life people have tried to tell me who I should be because they think it will be "easier" for me. And in some ways being like everyone else seems easier, but what would really make my life easier is to feel people love me the way I am, even if I have room to improve. A lot of people seem to think everyone should be like them and I think everyone should be like themselves. The best version of themselves, of course, and I am still working on becoming that person.

Help Needed

Dear Family and Friends, 

This letter below is from my aunt, a native of Guatemala, who now lives in Tennessee (she is married to my mom's youngest brother). She has been organizing medical missions to Peru for about the last five years and now would like to take one to her home country in Guatemala. 

I would like to as your help in spreading the word for her, especially to medical professionals. She is looking for volunteers who can afford to pay their own way. Thanks so much for your help in sharing this letter. Miriam's contact information is included if you have more questions.

"Dear Family and Friends,

I have been planning the first medical mission to Guatemala, which will be held at the Santiago Medical Clinic in the peaceful Mayan town of Solola. We are looking for volunteers to build a team of medical professionals and non-medical support staff to help the underserved population of my beautiful Guatemala. We are thinking of a name for the mission, which right now we are calling "Love in Action."

Unfortunately, I do not have a date set yet, but to avoid the rainy season I am looking for a week in March or April 2013. Please let me know if there is a week in these months that would be best for you.

We want medical professionals of all levels, including physicians, surgeons, pre-med and biology students, nurses, pharmacists, dentists, and ophthalmologists to provide medical care at the clinic. If you are not a medical professional, or you have a non-medical family member that wants to travel with you, do not worry—I will put you to work. We are developing a list of potential workshops for the non-medical volunteers to lead, such as basic health and hygiene habits, Spanish literacy, English skills, domestic abuse prevention and parenting classes, sexual health and STD counseling. We also always need volunteers to watch and entertain the children while their parents receive medical treatment. If you have any additional thoughts on a class or workshop that you would enjoy leading, please let me know. Also, you do not need to speak Spanish to help! 

My plan is to have us work hard four days in Solola and then leave a few days for travel around the beautiful countryside in Guatemala. Solola is easily accessible to the beautiful lake of Atitlan, and we will pass through the colonial city of Antigua as well. There are also many other nearby beautiful locations, and I am attaching some pictures.

Finally, I do not know the total cost to each volunteer yet, but I am giving you a very rough estimate. This is not a final estimate, but an amount you can use to plan on whether this trip would be affordable for you or not. Of course, you have a few months before the trip, so there is time to save up! 

Very, rough estimate:

Airfare:

From Atlanta $550 round trip

From Florida $450.00 round trip

From SLC $750 round trip

From LAX $550 round trip

Hotel about $50 per night per person (based on two person per room) breakfast included in the hotel

Lunch and dinner about $20 per day

Transportation while in Guatemala about $100.

We have lots of planning to do, so please let me know if you want to be added to the list of volunteers!

I hope to hear from all of you.
If you want to call me the best time to do it is after 7 pm EST or on the weekends
Love you !
Miriam Lemon
706-280-7862"

Mommy Hypochondriasis

I think I have this disease.

Symptoms: Overuse of household sanitizing sprays. For example, when husband is sick, patient may spray everything he touches with Lysol until patient can taste Lysol when she's eating her lunch. When passing through the cold & flu section of the store, patient may hold breath. When coming into contact with any sick person, patient may sanitize hands until they're dry & unnattractive. Also, after coming into contact with a sick person, patient may imagine they have the same symptoms as said sick person. For example, when husband has a cold, patient may immediately begin experiencing sore throat, fever, and weakness that may or may not be caused by actual virus. Patient also may be terrible nurse to the sick, as patient may not wish to take temperatures, administer medicine, or generally console the sick. Instead, the patient may wish to be in different county than sick person.

Causes: Though there is considerable debate concerning the causes of this disorder, most professionals think it is probably caused by motherhood. Mothers who have had sick, whiney children do not want to deal with them again and mothers who have cared for sick children while sick themselves never want to be sick again. Thus, they may begin to take drastic measures to avoid illness in all its forms until it becomes an obsession, though some may call it an artform.

Treatments: The best cure for this disorder is for the patient to actually get sick. They become much less obsessive when sick and even feel a sort of relief at not having to avoid the illness anymore. This is why most patients are never cured, because they avoid the cure with such dedication.

Crazy Scary Stalker Girl

(originally posted 2008)

That's me. In a recent discussion on my friend's blog, we discovered that a few of us are blog-stalkers. We read the blogs of people we don't know. I would apologize for this sort of borderline behavior, except that I enjoy it too much and have found some gems as a result. Now, this is risky, but I'm going to list a few of the blogs (of people I've never met) I enjoy stalking. Some of you might be shocked:


--My sister Cindy's friend Gabe. He's a democrat, but I sometimes like to read his blog anyway. Except for when he went through a breakup... then it was a tad depressing.
--My friend Tracy's friend's blog "The Musings of the Dahle Lama." She also contributes to a pretty good blog called "Do We Have to Eat This?"
--My friend Leslie's "friend" Katie's Blog "White Skinned Goddess."

There are more, but I'm getting tired.

Now you know what a crazy stalker girl I am. I'm sure there's something not quite genteel about continually exposing myself this way to all my friends & family (&, potentially, other crazy stalkers), but then I suppose I don't care.

Now, perhaps I shouldn't encourage such behavior, but I will anyway. In case you're now thinking of blog stalking people you've never met, let me suggest some of my friends' blogs for you to stalk:

Leslie: http://sweetlifeofleslie.blogspot.com/. Funny, sweet, cute. 'Nuff said.
Jen: http://wehrmeisters.blogspot.com/. Funny, funny, funny.
Melynie: http://lifeissodelicious.blogspot.com/. The stories about her kids... so great!
My sister-in-law's photo blog: http://jessicawashburn365.blogspot.com/. Now you can see why I think I'm not good at photography.

Note: if you are an unsavory character who is stalking my blog, please stop and please don't go stalking any of my friends, either. We don't like unsavory characters reading our blogs.

Sounding Off

So, as you may have learned by now... I don't really like confrontation. And usually when someone expresses an opinion about something that I disagree with, well, I just keep my mouth shut & complain to David about it later & he tells me I need to start standing up for myself, which advice I continue to ignore. But I thought it was about time I sounded off on a few things, to cleanse the system.

To the two ladies I talked to at a shindig for our kids earlier this week...

It's apparent that you hate your children so, yes, for you the best path probably would have been to jet-set about the country until you got the selfishness out of your system, then try to have kids at 40. Hopefully you wouldn't have been able to conceive so late in life and then I wouldn't have to stand here listening to you talk about how awful your children are and how you could have better planned your life so as to minimize the time you had to spend with them.
---
To someone who looked over my Disney movie collection a few years ago...

No, I don't think the fact that there are always bad guys in Disney movies somehow makes them bad for children to watch. There is good in this world, but there is also a lot of bad in this world. I think it might be slightly better to expose your kids to bad vs. good first in a Disney format, so they can see how good can overcome, than to protect them from all bad things until you, at some point during their lives, throw them out to the wolves without any kind of warning. And how dare you, when invited into my home, look at the movies I have and commence to announce to the room full of women how they are bad movies? Where are your manners?!
---
To nobody in particular, just in case you were wondering...

I don't like garlic salt! I prefer garlic powder!
---
To my psychpathic downstairs neighbor from a few years ago...

It's apparent you hate children, but I happen to like them. Especially mine. And I refuse to make him tiptoe around all day just because you happened to move in below me & decided to work a night job delivering newspapers because your job at the vet clinic didn't work out an account of you hating people (her words, not mine). And stop leaving nasty notes on my door every morning. And get rid of those horrible birds. Oh, and by the way, we're moving soon, but I'm not telling you that because I want to torture you a little. I don't want you to know we'll be gone soon. I want you to think we'll be living here forever & my little boy will continue playing with his toys and having fun when you're trying to sleep. Because that's what kids do. At least the happy ones, with parents who love them more than they love psychopathic downstairs neighbors. No offense or anything. It's natural for me to love my child more than someone I hardly know. If it makes you feel better, I love you just as much as anyone could love a psychopathic downstairs neighbor who's tormenting them and lying to apartment managers about them. And, no, I don't have a dog!
---
To a lot of you out there...

I think Crocs are ugly & I can't believe you would wear them out in public!
---
To my math teacher in sixth grade...

No, I'm not as smart as my brother! NOT my fault!
---
To most of my friends & family...

STOP exercising & eating healthy! You're makin' me look bad!
---
To a random stranger at Shop N Save many, many years ago, when they first instituded "coupon Thursday"...

Yes, I do think waiting in line for 30 minutes is worth $10. Totally. I just got paid $10 to stand here. Some people pay money to go stand in lines, like at Disneyland. In this case, it's like Disneyland paid US!
---

Okay, enough already. Boy, do I feel better.

Reasons to Either Love or Hate Shopping with Children

1. Snacks. You must have snacks for the children, which means you can have a snack for yourself. This is good if you're hungry as I was today but not so good if you accidentally eat half a bag of strawberry yogurt covered raisins (or "pink yummies," as Melynie calls them) that you bought at Aldi 5 minutes ago.

2. Company. At least you're not the lonely shopper, wandering aimlessly, nobody to talk to. But on the other hand, you have someone to talk to you. "Mom, what's for Gain?" "Mom, what's for Purex?" (repeat for every brand of detergent you can think of and that might give you an idea). Even though you eventually tell them, "Everything here is for washing clothes. EVERYTHING." They'll still need to ask.

3. Efficiency. Shopping with children can make you more efficient. When I shop alone I wander, looking at everything in the store until David calls the police to search for me. Not that way with kids. With kids you leave the store before you have everything you needed because said children were laying on top of the shelves, which means you will have to go back again another day, which I guess isn't really efficient after all.

4. Attention. If you take your kids with you to the store people will look at you. When you shop alone they might not. Not sure if you want them looking at you, though, when you threaten in that end-of-my-rope voice to leave the children at the store if they don't stop hiding in the racks of clothes.

5. Excitement. If you shop with children you won't be bored. Your heart will be racing at some point or another on your shopping trip. Like when you can't find your child for 5 solid minutes even though you're yelling his name and he can hear you from the rack of clothes he's hiding inside. Maybe boredom's not such a bad thing.

6. Preparedness. If you shop with children you will have something for almost any catastrophe that might arise. Like when your child dumps soft scrub with bleach on himself in the shopping cart. But then if you shop with children you MUST be prepared for all sorts of catastrophes, so gone is the cute handbag. Enter the mommy bag. Useful. Big. NOT cute.

Then you'll get home and find out your husband came home from work early. If you had left an hour later you could have been shopping alone. ALONE!

Thanks to the rotten potatoes for taking the trash out, mopping my bathrooms, cleaning my kitchen, and making me take a shower

A few days ago I smelled a smell in my kitchen. I was pretty sure it had to be in the trash can, so I took the trash out. I could still smell it, so I also took the recycling out. Then since the smell was still there I decided I'd better scrub both the trash & recycling cans. Guess what. My kitchen still reeked. Like something had died.

Next, I wondered maybe something had spilled on the floor under the trash, so I swept and mopped the kitchen, which led to me sweeping and mopping the entryway and the bathrooms. Since that didn't work I washed the dishes and used a special cleaner in my garbage disposal, because probably there was just something stinky in the sink somewhere. Well, then it was really late and I decided to go to bed. I wasn't sure if I could smell the smell anymore or not.

In the morning I was pretty sure I could still smell it, but I still thought it came from the vicinity of the trash. I was baffled. I started to wonder if maybe it wasn't the kitchen after all. It could be ME. So I showered. Luckily that didn't get rid of the stink.

Then I did other stuff because I have things to do and can't stand around all day in my kitchen, just wondering what smells are. Later that night I set the trash cans in the garage, for an experiment. My kitchen was still unpleasant.

My next train of thought was that there was maybe a dead animal somewhere. So I did nothing because I did NOT want to be the one to find a dead rat in the kitchen. That might cause me to pass out and then who would care for the children. So I had David look around when he came home (he of course hadn't even noticed the smell). He looked in the cupboards and in the vent. Then he found it. The bag of rotten potatoes. No, two bags of rotten baby potatoes that I had on hand to make delicious Crash Hot Potatoes for my family. No crash hot potatoes for us, but at least my trash cans are clean. And my garbage disposal. And my floors (all of them). And me.

The Man Who Didn't Wash His Dishes and how he's still in my life

One of my favorite books as I was growing up was "The Man Who Didn't Wash His Dishes" (Krasilovsky, Phyllis). This poor man apparently didn't like washing dishes, so he just didn't. Eventually he ran out of dishes to eat off and cook out of, so he got creative-- eating out of flower pots and ash trays, even the soap dish. Then he ran out of those things, too, but also out of room to put any more dirty dishes and the cleanup job was just too big. So he had the ingeneous idea to put all the dirty dishes & non-dishes in the back of his truck while it was raining and that got them all clean. He of course vowed to always wash his dishes from there on out.


Now, I of course realize how ridiculous the whole story is, because when I run out of clean plates I just use paper plates. And when I don't have a pot to cook out of I just drive down to Little Ceasar's. And of course the rain would be no match for stuck-on food-- especially food that was stuck on the first plate he used, before he ran out of ALL his dishes and everything else that could pose as a dish. Just imagine.


But that's not the point (I always have a point, as you well know). The point is how I still think of that poor man on at least a weekly basis. There's a day every week when I look around my kitchen and think, boy, there's not even a place to put any more dirty dishes (as I was thinking today and which brought me to writing this inspiring post). If I don't watch out I'll be like that poor man who had to eat out of a flower pot. And that's when I finally get around to washing the dishes. Because I, too, hate washing dishes. It's one of my least favorite household chores. But I'm pretty well convinced I would hate eating out of a flower pot even more than I hate washing dishes.


You should read the book, by the way. But not because it will have the same effect on you (you're adults, for heaven's sake) but because it's a good book. Your kids (if you have some) would love it, too, and maybe someday they'll look around their kitchens and say, boy, I don't have a place to put any more dirty dishes. If I don't watch out I'll end up like that poor man who had to eat out of a flower pot. And they'll wash their dishes and your grandchildren won't have to eat out of soap dishes. Just think.

A New Standard

I have known for a while that having two kids means I need to maybe change my standards for cleanliness. What I was able to achieve before (and maintain sanity) is just not possible anymore. So I have come up with a handy guide to turn to when I'm unsure whether my house meets the new standards.


Definitions:


Old standard= sparkling/see your face in/disinfected/eat off the floor/vacuum lined/polished/does anyone really live here/company ready/house the pope if needed clean


New standard= clean enough


Chapter 1: What is "clean enough?"



The bathroom is clean enough if you can still see yourself in the mirror.


The vinyl floors are clean enough as long as your feet aren't sticking to them.


No need to dust until you can legibly write "dust me" on surfaces with a fingertip.


The windows are clean enough as long as you can still see the neighbor's dead grass from your kitchen.


The kitchen is clean enough as long as there aren't any dead flies floating in dirty cereal bowls.


The laundry can wait until you run out of either clean underwear or baskets for the dirty stuff.


The bedding is clean enough until it holds the shape of your body when you're not in bed anymore.


The walls are clean enough as long as you can see more paint than sticky handprints.


The house is clean enough as long as your child doesn't tell you this house is kind of messy. Then you let things go too far.


Just for the record, my house is not currently "clean enough."