A special thank you to our daycare

This week was my 5 year old son’s last week at his daycare/preschool. He has been counting down to his next adventure to kindergarten with excitement. Each morning he says,” how many more days, Mom? Sarcastically followed by “are you going to cry on my last day because you are sad I am growing up?” I told him I would not cry even though I knew I probably would (And…I did!). My how time flies. It really is bittersweet. The bitterness of life’s fleeting moments and the sweetness of new experiences for him in “big boy” school.

I remember visiting his daycare while I was pregnant with him. The owner showed me around the entire daycare from the bed baby to the preschool rooms. I have this memory in my mind’s eye of glancing into the preschool room where I saw children playing with friends, back packs hung on the wall, and kidos doing an activity using kid scissors. As I peered into the classroom I remember thinking to myself “wow those kids are so big and that it would be forever before we are in this room.” Forever turned out to be a very very short five years.

My son started attending his daycare at 8 weeks old. I am pretty sure the first day I dropped him off I had a typed listed featuring everything you need to know about my son. I am also sure the teacher thought I was nuts. I remember sitting in the parking lot and shedding a tear the day I dropped him off at daycare for the first time. I cried because it was my first time leaving him. Truth be told, I may have shed a tear or two of relief because it was the first day in 8 weeks he wasn’t screaming at me (see previous post about colic). He didn’t scream at daycare-he waited until I picked him up. True love.

This is a picture of my son on his first day at daycare.

First Day at Daycare September 13, 2010

First Day at Daycare
September 13, 2010

And…here is his picture on the last day of daycare. He looks a little different in this big old chair now.

Last Day at Daycare August 7, 2015

Last Day at Daycare
August 7, 2015

This blog post serves as a special thank you to his teachers and the owner over the last five years. You each hold a special place in this chapter of our lives. This is why you all are so great:

  • You helped teach him some of the most important life lessons-sharing, caring, taking your turn, manners, and the list goes on and on.
  • You always communicated with me about my son’s day with you.
  • You developed, within my son, a love for learning and exploration with classroom visits from community helpers, like policeman and firemen, and daily hands on activities.
  • You make learning your ABCs, 123s, animals, songs, and rhythms so much more fun than I could have ever made it. As a matter of fact I have relearned a few things myself. For example, I can’t get “bubble gum, bubble gum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?” out of my head this week. Last week it was “boom chicka boom.”
  • You have helped him create arts and crafts that I will always treasure.
  • You provided assurance about the stages in the life of a small child. We survived colic, a year stint of my son biting like a vampire, multiple dislocated elbows (to no fault of the daycare) and potty training together.
  • You have high expectations for my child.
  • You provided encouragement, comfort, love to my child.
  • You helped teach him how to be a good friend, student, and helper.
  • You helped him understand right and wrong and good and bad choices.
  • You were made by a greater power to love and teach children.
  • You are a beautiful example of women lifting up other women.

It takes a village to raise a child and our daycare is a part of my family’s village. As important as this place has been to my child, they have been equally important to me. They have greeted me with a smile and open arms EVERY day. Days when I am on time. Days when I run late. Days when life is perfect. Days when I am tired, don’t feel well, or want to quit. They have provided me the confidence I need each day to know my son is safe, happy, and learning. That confidence allows to go to work and spend my days empowering others in my profession.

This week my son and I were talking about the new building, teachers, and friends that come with kindergarten. During the discussion he said “sometimes when you try something new, it’s scary but you just be brave and it turns out good, right?” Sometimes I think he is wise beyond his years. With a positive attitude like that, I assured him that great things are in store for him. As we transition to the next phase of my son’s educational journey. These years at daycare/preschool will always have a special place in my family’s hearts. For this experience I am grateful.

As we drove out of the daycare parking lot on our last day, I wiped a tear from my eye and then I heard my son say “this air conditoning in the car is making my eyes cry a little (such a tough guy). When do I get to go back and visit?” I knew then he understand the great experience he had there.

Today my spoon is full of many great memories of our special daycare experience and the friends we have made along the way.

Presence: Life’s Present

We have all savored something. Maybe it was the taste of a fine glass of wine, a made from scratch dish from a family recipe, or a scrumptious dessert. In that moment of savoring you think, “mmmm” this is the peak of excellence that you want to remember. There is much to savor about life that is not related to just food. Perhaps it’s a destination checked off the bucket list, the moment you say “I do”, the first time you glance at your newborn child, a graduation, a milestone, the sun setting or rising, or the glow of a summer or winter day. You know one of those moments, even if the world is not perfect-for that moment in time life feels, taste, or seems perfect. I have found that on the best of days, life is perfectly imperfect and that you can savor the perfection in imperfection.

My life always provides bountiful topics to blog about. However, I have not been writing as much as I typically have in the past. Why? Mainly, because I am just savoring. I have reached a stride where I am enjoying motherhood by savoring rather than sharing the moment. I have always loved the job of mom, but I am particularly fond of being a mom to a three-year old. For us, year three (only 2 months left until four years old) has been a good one. The kind of year that makes you wonder when the bottom is going to fall out because the journey has just been so fun. My toddler has had good health, we have gone over a year without a dislocated elbow (I stopped counting at the 7th dislocation), he has soaked up a wealth of information, he only follows me to the bathroom 75% of the time, and he acts more human than animal most days. He likes to remind me constantly that he is “growing up” and is “getting bigger” and that he might even be so big when he is “forty” that he will be a “really, really big giant.” Yes, I like the job of mom to a three year old.

One thing I have tried to become more aware of is of my toddler’s presence. Granted, it is hard to miss this funny, rambunctious kid. However, I am talking about the evidence of his presence that I was probably never meant to find. The presence I could have easily wiped off with some type of cleaner, tossed in a tote of toys, or maybe even never noticed. When I started consciously looking for tokens of his presence, I noticed my toddler leaves a trail of his three-year old self everywhere. I know one day, I will terribly miss these sweet tokens because they will be replaced by smelly socks and gym shorts.

Throughout the year, I have been trying to click mental pictures of life with a three year old that I do not want to forget or even worse…overlook. I want the moments with my three year old seared in my memory. In addition to mental pictures, I have been taking iPhone pics of the funnier moments that remind me of my toddler’s presence. I hope you enjoy the pictures as much as I have discovering them.

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Take time to notice the presence of others and not just in the physical form. You will be pleasantly surprised by the lessons you might learn, the appreciation you might gain, or the joy you may experience. Sometimes the quiet, unexpected, and the seemingly unnoticeable moments show us the most about people and life-becoming a present to our soul. When you are rushing through life it’s hard to see little things that you take for granted. When we take time, even if it’s only for a minute to notice our surroundings, we can truly appreciate our life and those in it.

Today, my spoon is full of presence of a three year old who steals my heart every day.

I Love Fools

Abraham Lincoln once said “You can fool all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” On that principle, I focus on fooling “some of the people” in my life ALL THE TIME…each April Fools’. I anxiously await April Fools’ to roll around like a kid waits for Santa. Each year I can fool my “some people” which include my family.. .after all, nothing says I love you like making a fool out of you!

My love of April Fools’ comes from my father. I can recall as a child, he always worked very hard to fool one of my aunts. Additionally, the “holiday” was always fun because my maternal grandmother would anxiously await a phone call to hear the stories about how we “got” our April Fools’ victim. Over the years, I have developed my fooling technique to an art form. In fact, so well that my Dad tried to call a truce in 2010 while I was pregnant so I “wouldn’t get hurt.” Nice try, Dad! My family threatens to not accept any form of communication (call, text, written) on April 1st from me. Luckily, they can’t seem to resist me.

My ground rules for fools are nothing mean, hurtful, stinky, or dirty. I only conduct pranks that evoke a good laugh on everybody’s part…or at least almost every one. There are two types of pranks a person can play on April 1st. The first type is the run-of –the mill one I call the old “hot iron strike”…. you strike when the iron is hot.

  • For example, my brother is one of those crazy University of Kentucky Wildcat basketball fans. Typically, near April Fools’, March Madness has wrapped up and the sport is narrowing in on the Final Four. So because he is cray cray mad with his sports this time of year, I have gotten him year after year on something about the KY Wildcats. “Did you hear so and so broke a leg?” “I can’t believe Tubby is coming back to coach?” “Did you hear Rupp Area caught on fire?” Gullible-party of one, your April Fools’ joke is ready!
  • Another example of a hot iron strike can be illustrated with my husband. Last year, he was very tired on April Fools’ Eve and constantly asking are you going to “get me” or “what are you doing to me tomorrow?” My family lives in fear of this day! We went to bed on the Eve around 11:00 PM. And…he was awakened at 12:01 by his alarm that I set and me saying “April Fools’”. Dead asleep, unsuspecting…you strike.
  • Let’s take this year for another example. My hubs has been very excited that he has gotten off work “on-time” or at least not drowning in work the last couple of days. I noticed he left his laptop in the car when he came home last night. Honestly; I am surprised the laptop doesn’t have a pillow in our bed. I casually inquired if he had any work to do before we went to bed and he said “no”. I then checked his calendar on his iPhone to make sure he wasn’t meeting with anyone clients first thing in the morning on April Fools’. Nope-just a conference call on the calendar. STRIKE-the iron is hot! So, I snuck out to his car, took out his laptop and fitted it with pair of animal print underoos. That laptop patiently waited for him to push her buttons all night until his 7 AM conference call.

The second type of fool, is what makes for a great April Fools, I call this type the “Legendary”…you know the type that families talk about for decades. I can hear it now, “Remember when Great Great Great Great Great Grandmother Edds-Ellis did….” Okay, maybe I won’t be able to hear because I will be a goner by then -but you get the gist of what I am saying about legendary-they are EPIC!! Every now and then, the opportunity to enact a Legendary style fool creeps up on you when you least expect it and other times it takes careful plotting. I typically reserve the legendary status for my father. I know he was fooled if he pretends it didn’t happen and wants to act as if he can’t be fooled-all while secretly pouting. My April Fools’ sensei has now become my favorite victim. So what are some examples of the legendary plots?

  • Probably my all-time favorite on my Dad is when I moved his truck at work. He always parks in the same spot, but lucky for me and unluckily for him I know his key code to the truck door and where he hides his keys. This particular April Fools’ he worked the closing shift so my husband and I sit in the parking lot of his work watching for him as he walked out the door to go home and started looking for his truck in the spot it was always in and it was gone. After he wandered around for a few minutes, he headed to talk to the security guard patrolling the parking lot so we had to break our silence and yell April Fools’.
  • Last year, was my parents first April Fools’ in their new home. The lot they built their home on is unique because along one side of the lot is a brick privacy wall. My parents discussed numerous times about how they got “lucky” to have a lot with a wall that helps enclose a portion of their backyard, how it works well for landscape, etc. So…..I capitalized and wrote an official letter from a fictional city department informing them their wall would be torn down due to road expansion and would take some totally unreasonable time to rebuild. The notice was taped to their front door. I think my Mom and Dad both fell for it because my father wouldn’t answer my phone calls all day that day or the next.
  • Another epic fooling happened today. Last week I notice that my Dad set a cage that is a trap in his front landscaping. Apparently, something has been digging up the mulch in his landscaping and each time he recovers it, this critter clears the area again. So, my Dad decided he would catch this city critter and relocate to his farm. He and my mom have put out lettuce, cat food, a hotdog etc…trying to catch this unknown critter. Well, this April Fools’ they caught something! I took a coon skin hat my parents brought back from a vacation as a gift to my toddler (I promise we have no lineage to Duck Dynasty) and I stuffed it and pinned it to make a shape of a critter. And I lovingly secured a small sign to the critter’s “belly” stating “April Fools’.” My husband dropped it off in the wee hours of the morning on his way to the gym before work. Little did he know at the time he had a little critter in his backpack inside his laptop bag…hehehe.

So you might understand now why my family avoids me and lives in fear on April Fools’ Day. Don’t think I just pick on the men in my family, I believe in equality and I get the women too! And if the truth be told, a co-worker got me this year. And…my husband pulled out my old trick from last year and set my alarm for an earlier time than usual. Even a pro like me can be a victim every now and then! To carry on this family tradition, I started training my son on the art of April Fools’ on the way to preschool this morning. We traded fools on the way to school and practiced on our fool for Dad later tonight. Muwhahha!

Today my spoon is empty…April Fools’! Today my spoon is full of good laughs at some of the people I love fooling all of the time.

Gas Up Your Mini-Vans

Life was easy in a minivan. I don’t drive a minivan nor am I minivan hating on those minivan loving mommas. However, there was a time I drove a minivan-it was my Mom’s. It was a costumed ordered, sleek Mark III Minivan. The hottest minivan on the late 80s or early 90s market, with a pink and grey stripe down the side and lush velvet curtains on the interior windows. Mom, please tell you got a h*ll of a deal on this…looking back it was so ugly. Oh did I forget to mention that it was before I had my driver’s license? I was probably about eleven or twelve when me and a childhood bestie would take my mother’s minivan cruising. We weren’t driving on the road, we were driving on my parents’ property and my uncle’s adjoining property. We had a couple of acres to cruise.

Looking back, I have two thoughts on the minivan adventures. First, why did my mom let me and my friend drive around in her minivan all over her property when we probably hadn’t even hit puberty, let alone have a license to operate a vehicle? I guess she wanted us out of the house. She purchased a lot of fuel to keep us occupied. Second, life was just plain easier in that minivan.

So to take you back to those minivan rides in the late 80s and early 90s…We always wore our seatbelts. There was a safety campaign then to promote wearing seatbelts, so we took that seriously and “buckled up”. Remember the Crash Test Dummies? We probably had lots of hair spray on our tall “mall” bangs and wore neon colored clothing with tight rolled jeans (also sprayed with hairspray to hold the roll). On beautiful days we rolled down the windows. We always listened to our favorite radio station (or cassette tape) which played the latest hits of Madonna, Milli Vanilli, Bryan Adams, Aerosmith, and Janet Jackson. Come to think of it, these artists’ lives were simpler in that minivan, too!

We were living the American dream in that minivan with our “baby” dolls in the back seat. I am pretty sure we didn’t adhere to any car seat laws for our little bundles of plastic. Oops! We had imaginary roads with stop signs, stop lights, etc. We had certain areas that we pretended were drive thru windows for banks, fast food etc. We also pictured ourselves as career women. Our career choices were being teachers and being presidents of a bank that we would own in our spare time.  We both landed in the education profession, but we don’t own any banks. I am not sure why we were intrigued with the banking industry other than we knew there was lots of money in a bank. And, I am sure we thought business suites looked cool and sophisticated. We would drive around for hours (literally) on my parents/uncle’s property. The neighbors and passer byers had to think my mother was losing her mind.  We could go up to 35 mph, without getting yelled at by Mom for driving too fast and then made to return the van to the garage. We really had no plans of where we were going during our drive…just cruising through life. We pretended to drop off the kids at school, cash a check at a bank (this was before ATM cards folks!), and run mom “errands”.  We would pretend our husbands were at work. Thank God we didn’t marry those guys! We giggled and we talked as we lived out our duo fantasy of supposedly working fulltime as a teacher and bank president. Our babies never cried or talked, no cell phones existed, no text, no social media, no blog that needed updating, no GPS, and no bad drivers on the road (just us). Yes, life, love, and parenting sure was easy in that minivan.

This same bestie that I use to cruise with when our feet barely reached the pedals now owns a minivan. She does have some great land for taking a drive, but we haven’t taken her minivan off road…but that might be an idea for escaping reality for a few minutes! If we were to hop in and take a cruise in her minivan, life would look much different than we had anticipated…it actually turned out better than we could have planned. However, I do miss the innocence of the simplicity we expected out of life as moms and as adults. If we were to take her minivan off-roading we would be so excited to have a moment to dedicate to each other to catch up, that we would literally run out of gas before we did conversation topics.

If we were to replay our minvan cruising as adults …here is what it might look like. First, we can now drive on the road legally and go over 35 mph…which is symbolic of life being such a fast pace now and often having more privileges than time. We have many blessings to talk about these days that involve spouses, children, and special interests. However, these days, our kids do cry, get sick, and act less than perfect occasionally (qualities totally inherited from their Dads-just to clarify-that is one dad per family….not of bunch of baby daddies here!). We have days we would generally like to rewind and just do over. We have days we feel like Wonder Women and days we feel like wandering women. My kid is nothing like a plastic baby- he is practically a backseat driver! Imaginary spouses, plastic babies, pretend jobs were much less complicated.  Text and email would be chiming in on our iPhones. We might even take a selfie and update our Facebook status or Instagram. Errands just plain suck as adults and aren’t as fun as we imagined. Hopping in and out of the vehicle a dozen times or going through various drive thru windows just aren’t as glamorous when they hold your day hostage, while you are toting a crying toddler, and using “your” “real” money to pay bills. Gas was cheaper in the 80s, therefore our trip might be shorter this time around. In our childhood minivan, the thought of worry, pain, illness, loss, etc. never crossed our minds. We didn’t understand how to love so much it could hurt at times. We didn’t understand the serious work of raising little people to be positive contributors to the world. We didn’t realize that dates with your sweetheart are few and far between and it’s the little every day moments that mean the most. We didn’t realize there would a national debate on moms who “stay” home and moms who “work” outside of the home (we are all working are butts off!). We didn’t realize the unfortunate cruelty in the world that can unexpectedly blindside you or cause you sleepless nights. Life was simple, easy, good, and fair in that minivan.

Life isn’t as simple, easy, or perhaps as fair as we anticipated…but it sure has been a good ride thus far. I wouldn’t trade all the joys of what this complicated world has bestowed upon us. Let’s gas up your minivan soon, friend. And for those of you who haven’t cruised in a minivan…crank up some 80s music and give it a try with a best friend!

Today my spoon is full of life adventures in a minivan.

Peace, Love & Belly Rubs

Belly RubEvery night when I put my toddler in bed, he says, “rub my belly mommy.” He stretches out on the bed, pulls up his shirt, places his hands behind his head, and sticks his Buda-like belly up in the air and I begin rubbing his belly like he is a puppy dog. One night in the quietness of the belly rubbing, I started thinking about time and my interactions with people. How we have a limited amount of time each day to accomplish or experience what we choose to experience out of life (note: our daily interactions are not totally in our full control because sometime life surprises us with choices good and bad). And, how the people we interact with, by choice or fate, impact our lives and happiness. As a matter of fact we have 1,440 minutes in each day or 10,080 minutes in a week. Now that I am a mom, how I use my minutes is more important than ever because I have a lot to accomplish in a limited window…and I want to savor my spoonful along the way.
One way I have been saving time and energy is through my interactions with people and the time allocated to various folks. Do you know anyone who is a funsucker which is the equivalent to a vampire sucking the fun out of life and people? Unfortunately, there seems to be a lot of funsucking vampires in the world that like to sink their pointy little fangs into your life’s minutes. You know who they are…some days you may be one yourself.
Let’s see there are the manipulators, downers, users, chronic complainers, drama addicts, guilt trippers, paranoids, conspirators, naggers, the judgers, the holier than thou, and the worst….are the passive aggressives! There are also the know-it-alls, the close-minded, the I-got-a-better-story to tell than you, the I-am-somebody because I am descendent of somebody that was important 50 years ago, the been there done that type, the I will pretend like I am listening while I wait for a more important person to talk to, and the it will never work naysayers. They come in all different varieties…just waiting to suck the minutes out of your life!
Each moment we have a choice of whom and what we allow into our lives yet most of us do not give it a second thought and continue to drift through life as though we have no choice. We are adults, PEOPLE! Stop being victims of prey for funsuckers! Over the past few years, I have made the choice to limit or greatly lessen my time with funsuckers and cautiously select how I use my time and with whom I share my time. A wise chic shared with me that “those with whom we assemble, we soon resemble” and that statement is so very true!
Have I seen a surplus of time at the end of each day? Absolutely not-life is just busy. However, the good news is I have experienced a surplus of happiness and better utilized my life minutes for myself and for others that I care about.  Call it selfish, you may, but out of the 1,440 minutes in the day-I don’t want to share it with someone or something draining the life out of me. So, I focus on not being a funsucker and I surround myself with folks who like to rub bellies…so to speak.
So is your ying and yang off balance due to funsuckers? If so, reprioritize your minutes. Like vampires, funsuckers run from the light of happiness and will move on to using their vacuum power suck-tion somewhere else. Cloak yourself in the garlic of peace and the light of happiness and the funsucker(s) will move on to their next victim. I promise you won’t miss those nagging little fangs of the funsucking vampires! Rub more bellies-life is too short!
Today my spoon is full of peace, love, and belly rubs.

I am Brown Bear!

Is it a person, place or thing? Brown Bear is a “person” at our house. He was given to my precious bundle of Coop at my Baby Shower by two very dear childhood friends. Once he was evicted from living in my belly…all 9.5lbs of him, my son, Coop, was instantly attracted to Brown Bear. This may have been because Brown Bear set on a dresser near his crib with a tranquil face as Coop lay nestled is his bed snuggled with his “Blue” blanket given to him by a dear friend from my college years (okay, usually he was screaming…remember the colic blog). I remember his first interaction with Brown…he (my son, not the bear) was just learning to scoot around the house and he came slivering down the hallway with Brown hanging out his mouth like a dog with a chew toy. Brown had fallen off the dresser and from that point on Coop and Brown have been friends. Brown has been slobbered on, chewed on, peed on, and thrown up on. He has been snuggled, tossed, fed, ran over by motor toys, met the fate of swords and other miscellaneous tools and survived. And I have a sneaking suspicion that he has endured even more adventures than I care to know. I try to make a conscious effort to come home during lunch once a week and throw him in the washing machine for a bath-he takes a delicate spin in the lingerie bag. Brown has been quite the traveler, as well as Blue. He’s accompanied us on planes, trains, and automobiles to Florida, Virginia, Texas and LOTS of places in between. We have spent all trips at the homes of family/friends and hotels with Brown in tow and I am equally concerned about losing or leaving Brown somewhere as I am my child. How do you replace a bear that has withstood so much? You can’t.

I have noticed in the last few months that Brown gets tossed to the side more than he used to. Brown isn’t the first thing on my son’s mind when he goes to bed or wakes up. However, he always wants him when he is sick or wants to be snuggled. And…any parent who has watched Toy Story a gazillion times, starts subconsciously giving life to toys! Seeing Brown lying around the house reminds me a lot about motherhood. I have been slobbered on, chewed on, etc…just like old Brown. I have survived stepping on Legos and being attacked by a two-year old pirate. My toddler constantly reminds me that “he am big” and he can do any task “himself”. He asks me if his legs look longer, as he stretches high on his tippy toes. He asks when will he be three and he even wants his baby teeth to fall out because he “not a baby, I’m a big boy.” He can get his own snacks, get himself dressed (I am not saying he doesn’t look like a clown) and go to the potty. When I get him out of the car at daycare he tells me not to hold him “no more-that’s it”. I feel your pain, Brown, I know what is liked to be tossed aside as our little guy gets older. However, just like you ….I will be ready and waiting when he wants to snuggle or isn’t feeling so well and wants his Brown and Momma.

Today my spoon is full the realization that I am Brown Bear.

Miss Kitty: The Cat’s Meow

Recently our family celebrated our cat’s, Miss Kitty, 13th birthday. This may sound like I have a teenager in the house, but in all actuality-she has moved on toward retirement. Thirteen equates to 68ish years in human years. Geez-no wonder cats need nine lives. In our eyes, she is the purrrrfect cat. As my toddler says “we wuv our cat much”. In 13 short years, she has survived 5 moves, endured a house remodel, sit by our laptops as we have worked to earn a combined 5 college degrees (she’s a smart cat), made peace with not being the only-child when our son made his debut, and went missing in action a time or two. Miss Kitty isn’t a lap cat, but you can always depend on her being somewhere near keeping an eye on life. Even though she isn’t as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as she once was, her belly sags, and she moves a little slower- she still has a little spunk left in her. In the past thirteen years, she has taught me a thing or two about life. If you love dogs, don’t be a sour puss, you might learn a thing or two from our cat.

  1. When life is crap, kick some litter over it, and move on. And…if you’re lucky, somebody might clean it up for you.
  2. Don’t wait for the sun to find you…find the sunny spots and move as they shift.
  3. Being man’s best friend is over rated. It is a dog-eat-dog world and it’s a catastrophe waiting to happen if you compare yourself to a dog. Make your own world, even if you don’t have nine lives.
  4. Be independent. Enjoy the company of others, but be able to stand on your on 2 feet (or paws).
  5. Look at things from different perspectives. Sitting on top of an armoire provides a different view than from under the bed-always take in different perspectives. Know when to stand out and know when to blend in.
  6. Spat, forgive, and forget. Life is too short to hold grudges.
  7. Use your claws wisely, bite seldom, and hiss sparingly. Scratches and bite marks may heal, but emotional wounds can remain forever.
  8. Be near the ones you love. Even if you aren’t a lap cat, enjoy the company you keep.
  9. Speak up when you want something. If someone doesn’t listen….speak again. MEOW!
  10. There is peace in solitude and silence. Sometimes retreating away to a hiding place is good for the soul.
  11. Take a cat nap: never underestimate the power of a good nap
  12. Pounce on every opportunity the world has to offer!
  13. When you are feeling spunky-play. Even if it’s a 2 AM and everyone else wants to sleep.
One cool cat.

One cool cat.

Ahhh..the sun.

Ahhh..the sun.

Please...I am trying to nap!

Please…I am trying to nap!

Cat in the Inbox

Cat in the Inbox

Checking out the dryer vent.

Checking out the dryer vent.

Know when to blend in.

Know when to blend in.

Expert Cat in APA

Expert Cat in APA

Today my spoon is full of great lessons from my cat. In my eyes, she is the Cat’s Meow!

Putting the Equal in Equality

In full disclosure, this blog posts contains words such as “feminists” “Hillary Clinton” “gender” “women’s rights” “Margaret Thatcher” “equality”. If you are excited by such topics, please keep reading. If you are rolling your eyes, well, roll them back into focus and keep reading; your perspective might be informed. Despite your stance on these topics, there is much to gain from discussing them. For women the value should be obvious. For men, the value should be obvious; you arrived on this planet via a stork known as a female. Chances are you may have a wife, a sister, a daughter, or other family members and friends who are female.

This post isn’t intended to stir a political debate. Regardless if your political beliefs align with Margaret Thatcher, Hilary Clinton, or a combination of both, it should be undeniable that these women have made advances for all women in a predominantly male-driven culture. I am sure both Margaret and Hillary have stories to tell that would cause us to gasp, if we knew of some of the stereotypes that have been assigned by others and overcome publicly and privately throughout their careers and personal lives.

Additionally, this post isn’t intended to debate different types of women-working moms or stay at home moms, race, economic status, religion, etc. The ground rule for this post is as women, and as individuals, if we are doing what are bodies, minds, and souls were designed to contribute to this great planet Earth-then we are living a fulfilled life. In a fulfilled life there is no need to debate differences. Embrace the similarities and the differences and live a richer life.

Finally, this post isn’t a man-hater post. When I get on rants regarding women’s right my husband jokingly calls me a Fembot. I have a father, husband, and other males in my life who never slight me for being a woman. I also have males in my life who perpetuate stereotypes and I am challenged to defy their ignorance. So I “heart” the male race.

So, what is this post intended to do? With the aforementioned labels removed, I would like to propose three charges.

  1. We need more Iron Ladies in the world. And we need more men (and women) who can work with Iron Ladies. Nancy Regan shared that Margaret and Ronald were political soul mates which is a profound statement that says a lot about Nancy, Ronald, and Margret’s strong character. They were able to stow away insecurities and biases in the name of a better world. We need more women, who like Margaret Thatcher, are proud to embrace the qualities of being a woman, spouse, and/or mom while living a fulfilled life and making a difference. We need more women who make their own fulfilled paths on their terms. We need women who do not fear being bold leaders in their homes, communities, and world. We need women that create a conundrum where extremists (both feminist and bigamists) are left scratching their heads while work is positively moved forward.
  2. Women’s equity issues need resurgence. Love her or hate her, thank you Hillary for recently moving this very topic back into our view. Since the Declaration of Sentiments in Seneca Fall, New York in 1848…women have \ placed major cracks in the glass ceiling by gaining rights ranging from the right to vote, advancing women’s health issues/rights, and making gains as comprising a large portion of an educated society and workforce. Most “modern” women, can’t imagine a time that we couldn’t vote, work outside the home, attend college, or even not be able to have a credit card in your wallet without your husband’s name on it (hold the phone Dave Ramsey lovers, I am not endorsing credit cards-just say’n the financial world hasn’t always accepted women as responsible). Great gains have been made ladies and gentlemen! And these gains took bold women and bold men to change and not accept the status quo. However, I beg that for the past few decades, women have been enjoying the fruits of our forefathers foremothers. It is time to reenergize and move the conversation of equal rights to the 21st Century; not in an attempt to take over the male race, but in an effort to create equality for men, women, and families. Opportunities have increased for many minority demographics, but an increase in opportunities does not necessarily yield equality. Enjoy the rights gained, but let’s revive efforts to focus on continuing to build equality. Examples might include laws that don’t penalize single or double income families. Laws that promote men enjoying such things as maternity/adoption leave. Speaking of maternity leave, the USA really can learn some lessons from our European friends in this area. Equalizing women’s pay. It is true that women earn 71-81 cents for every dollar a man earns. The figure varies by state and report, but I did the math for my profession and it was dead on. Census statistics from 2012 estimated that based on the median earnings of all full-time, year-round workers that men’s earning in 2011 were $48,202 and women’s were $37,118. This equates to a difference of $11,084 per year. Add this figure up over a lifetime…women you have earned $275,000 less than your male colleague. I’m no mathematician, as my transcript will suggest but regardless if your salary is the median, above the median, or below the median surely we can agree that a difference in pay adds up over a lifetime. I can certainly think of ways to share, spend, and invest $275,000!
  3. Women, the work starts with us! How you might ask? 1. Removing the barriers we create for each other through pettiness, stereotypes, and judgments. 2. Support and advocate for other women living a fulfilled life. 3. Have the tough conversations about equality and live YOUR fulfilled life! 4. Use the angst in your gut to make a change for the better.
    Being bold often requires hard choices. If you look throughout history, it is the bold choices both women and men have made that have provided courage to others to break free from the chains of limiting belief patterns, society stereotypes, and religious conditioning that often times keep individuals suppressed and from living the fulfilled life they were designed to live.

Today my spoon is full of “crazy” ideas of making the world a better place for all. Lets work on continuing to put the equal in equality. Anyone up for a 21st bra burning?

 

A perfectly imperfect start to 2013

When I started blogging I did not realize that my blog host provides an annual
report card on Spoonfuloflife’s blog activity. My type A personality LOVES this
feature. I am already dreaming of the possibilities of what the 2013 report
card will yield. So now that the stats are in…well, gosh darn it people like the
posts/site or are really bored and need something to read. None-the-less, March
2012 kicked off the debut post on Spoonfuloflife and the year finished up with
a total of 35 posts; and I was afraid of running out of things to share! Even
more exciting is the fact that Spoonfuloflife has seen over 2,700 viewers
(don’t worry I don’t know who you are!) from 26 countries! Most visitors came
from the United States. Canada and the United Kingdom weren’t far behind the
good ol’ USA. This stat on location at least reassures me that my family members
are not the only folks reading the blog over and over.

So what will 2013 mean? Who knows? Some of the best life has offered has been unplanned. I do not make resolutions. Frankly, I stink at keeping resolutions. Despite previous resolutions…I still need to shed some pounds, will most likely never run a marathon or have abs of steel, and I haven’t made it to Bora Bora (yet). Isn’t life a constant resolution in some way?  Absent of a blogging plan or an official New Year resolution, I promise to continue to learn from my spoonful of life and to authentically share my spoonful with you. I have found through this blog that sharing my imperfections has provided some comic relief for readers, but more importantly has eased the struggle of people I know, as well as, completes strangers who struggle with the same imperfections. Life is tough and it is darn near impossible to be perfect in all of our roles (spouse, parent, friend, professional, community member, etc.) every moment of every day. Acknowledging that your spoonful is not perfect makes one human, approachable, and real! So what if your silver spoon is a little tarnished?

A friend recently shared a post on facebook which hits at the heart of why spoonfuloflife was launched. I traced the post back to the original source which was a blog post entitled The Disease Called “Perfection.” It is especially relevant as you embark on the New Year’s resolutions you have set (or not set). The Disease Called “Perfection” was written by Dan Pearce a few years ago when he was new to the world of blogging. His candid post on perfection went viral and literally spiraled into a popular blog and a book. Now going viral (in a good way of course) would make a cool annual report for my 2013 stats! Check it out here. You won’t be disappointed in this profound, raw look at how being real with the imperfections in our spoonful yields deeper life connections and happiness, as well as, eases the struggles of society.

Today (as well as everyday) my spoon (a little tarnished) is full of imperfections which will continually produce a vast amount of blog material to share in 2013!

Lessons from a Salmon

Pike Place Market

In the spirit of writing this post from Seattle, today’s topic (well, really I am writing this at night as I am sleepless in Seattle) is Salmon…living like Salmon as a matter of fact! This may sound fishy, but there are some lessons to be learned from Salmon. Being that chicken, pork, and beef aren’t on my food list of things I like to eat –I eat a lot of seafood; especially salmon. I took a tour of Seattle this past weekend and was fascinated to learn a little more about this pink yumminess that ends up on my plate. I am by no means a “salmon expert” or biological sciences guru, but I will attempt to summarize what I learned about salmon on my tour.

Salmon start out as a little egg that have been deposited and fertilized by mommy and daddy salmon in the gravel/rock of fresh stream water. It takes 1 to 3 months for the eggs to hatch and then they spend up to another five months hanging out around the gravel. They then spend up to a few days or as long as five years living in the fresh water. At the mouth of the streams and river, they school together for a trip out into the ocean. This journey into the salt water can last anywhere from 1 to 5 years.  Once they mature, they head back to their original stream and readapt to fresh water. Their final destination is the original rocks or spawning ground where they were born. There they spawn (breed/lay eggs), bury themselves, and die. Thus, fertilizing and creating a nutrient rich home for the next generation of salmon.

So what can we learn from the salmon?

  1. Remember where you came from and grow from it.
  2. Leave the nest and make your own understanding of this world.
  3. Taste different waters-some might be refreshing, some salty, some murky-but open your mind to new things.
  4. Explore the vast “ocean” before you. Be amazed by its colors and beauty. Do not let the sharks bite you, the fisherman’s nets tangle you up, and other predators steal your joy!
  5. Be flexible and patient. Surely, breathing fresh water one day and salt water the next takes some persistence and flexibility.
  6. Lay your eggs and then die. Okay-not really. Although skipping colic and terrible twos could have some perks. But on a serious note, if you’re a parent-create a new you. This doesn’t mean let your old self “die” necessarily. Take your best characteristics, modifying your worst, and be a good parent. In turn, create a life for your child, do not just recreate your childhood.
  7. Leave something behind to fertilize others…especially your children. Spend your time replenishing others, build their worth, and affirming their value. Be a positive influence and leave the world a better place than you found it.

Today my spoon is full of some of the best salmon I have ever tasted.

Happy New Hallothanksmas Christgivingween Year!

This time of year begins the mad dash of holiday celebrations. From Halloween, to Thanksgiving, to Christmas, and finally we arrive exhausted at the dawn of a new year.  At retail stores we are greeted with an aisle of Halloween goblins and ghosts, then the next aisle is Thanksgiving scarecrows and turkeys, and around the corner are Christmas trees, Santas, and elves. Since we are on the topic of holiday decor- what I hate most are those darn blowup decorations for the yard. I would like to drive by homes and shoot them with a BB Gun one by one. Any ways, back on topic. It’s difficult to enjoy one holiday, without panicking that there is another one creeping right around the corner. Despite the maddening signs that Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are near, I always enjoy the holiday season. Each holiday has special memories and traditions that I cherish.  For sentimental reasons and laughs, I will share some of our past and present traditions with you.

I wont’ bore you with 34 years of spooktackular costumes but a few that get honorable mention are Big Bird (Keep PBS!), a Cabbage Patch Kid, a Witch, a flapper, a mermaid (did that twice), a clown, a sock hopper, Chiquita banana, a pirate, a princess, and a cave woman. I am already scheming ways to get my toddler into his costume this year. Since I am a product of the 80s, every Halloween I think about the safety of candy. When I was a child there was a big campaign for trick or treaters to only receive store bought candy-no more homemade goodies. Crazy people started putting needles, razor blades, and drugs in homemade goodies. I guess you can say those kids were tricked and not treated. I remember after hitting up all of the Halloween stops, my brother and I would come home with bags FULL of candy. Then begin my mother and father “inspecting” the wrappers. I’m not sure but looking back, this might have been a ploy for stealing our candy. Luckily, most of our candy passed inspection. One of my favorite treats I received every year was a toothbrush and these red dental dot thingys from a local dentist. You were supposed to chew up the dots after you brushed your teeth to see if you missed any spots. I thought it was much more fun to eat as much candy as possible and then chew the dots to see how dirty my teeth really were.

As a child, our Thanksgiving, perhaps had the strangest tradition—dressing balls. This was a creation of my grandmother. What is a dressing ball you might ask? Well, its dressing that has been mashed into a ball shape and cooked rather than spread out in the pan. You might picture it as a sausage ball on steroids.  I am not sure why she created balls of dressing, but I think they were easy to shove in a grandchild’s hand to make sure we were eating something as we ran around playing. The children loved them, but the adults grew to love and expect them as well. Since her passing, I have been in charge of dressing, so I might bring back the balls for our toddlers to enjoy…and the adults too. They are awesome for leftovers. And lets be real, who can keep a straight face and not laugh when someone says, “pass the balls please.”

One invention that shaped the 80s was the hot glue gun. Really it revolutionized the world. I mean what can you not fix with a hot glue gun? One Christmas season, I remember my grandmother buying a hot glue gun and beginning the endless crafting of Christmas elves. My grandmother and aunt spent endless hours gluing together the elves with plastic faces they had purchased at a local craft store and cutting out and gluing together felt elf outfits-complete with shoes. Ironically, these elves look just like the now famous Elf on the Shelf. I swear someone stole that idea from my family. If we only thought to write a book about those darn elves-we would be millionaires by now and I would be writing this blog from an exotic island somewhere. We started the Elf on the Shelf tradition with our son last year. It seemed fitting to name the elf, Merle, after my grandmother.

One funny memory of Christmas I have is when my dad sent me and my aunt on a mission to buy my mom’s Christmas present. Really, this was an annual mission and we didn’t get a choice to accept or deny the mission. One year, my mother saw a giant, yes giant- a 6 foot, Santa Claus made of dried seaweed/sea grass that she had to have for her house. Seriously, why would anyone want this? This stupid Santa probably weighed 100 pounds. I was about eight years old and my aunt was 18 when my dad sent us to bring this jolly fellow home to my mom for Christmas. Oh, and I failed to mention the store was nearly an hour from our house.  You could imagine what we looked like driving down a major highway in a mini Ford Bronco while Santa’s bottom-half stuck out through the hatch. Every freaking year, my dad and I would hoist Old Seaweed St. Nick up and down from the attic so he could make his grand debut. We hated him and tried some years to break him as we shoved his big rump into the attic-it didn’t work.  I was never so glad to see that guy leave our family when my parent’s had an auction. We could barely give it away. I think it might have brought $5! As a matter of fact, my mom called during the auction and said “who bought Santa”? I have no clue who now has the privilege celebrating Christmas with Mr. Seaweed Santa…but to you I say thank you!

Each year on Christmas Eve, I always enjoy hearing my family whine and complain about a tradition I started a decade ago. Nothing says love like a complaining family. Trust me, they complain about this tradition, but I think they secretly like it. We all have a small notebook with our name on it that is stored in a special Christmas bag all year. Each Christmas Eve when we get together, I drag the bag out and distribute the books. The next 10 to 15 minutes is spent arguing over the “rules” of this tradition. Luckily, one cousin wrote the rules down in her book-so after we get tired of arguing, when all else fails, we decide to read the rules. Next, we write down the events/things we want to remember about the year and then write down what we hope for or are predicting for the next year. Can I just say that me having a baby was mentioned at least every year for the past 10 years! Now that we made that dream come true-they can move on to the next cousin! After everyone jots down their thoughts, we go around one by one sharing the entries from the previous year. You only share what you feel comfortable sharing and try to avoid those TMI (too much information) entries. Some items shared bring a good laugh, some a tear, and others a surprise because you forgot all about them. I am the keeper of the books and honor everyone’s privacy. Seriously, I do not read them. As a matter of fact, our grandmother’s book went to the grave with her.

New Years is spent with some dear friends from our college days. As a matter of fact, since 1999 (and yes we partied like it was 1999 that year), we have celebrated all but two New Year’s together. One year I can’t remember what happened and last year we had a sick kido.  We have celebrated so many together; it is a call of duty to continue the tradition. We have lots of fun stories from ringing in the New Year…honesty, too fun to share. Okay, since kids entered the picture, we usually don’t make it to see the ball drop, but we have a good time none-the-less. We are looking forward to ringing in another year together this year.

As you embark on celebrating the holidays, it might feel like they have all been smashed into one event called New Hallothanksmas Christgivingween Year—but none-the-less, take time to make traditions and enjoy life with the one’s you love…and even the ones you have to love because you’re family.

Today my spoon is full of thoughts of holiday memories and savory dressing balls.

Facebook-A Bowl Full of Cherries

I have a love-hate relationship with Facebook. I love being able to keep in touch with my friends and family that I do not get to see often enough. I hate the time I often waste on Facebook. I love the fact that family and friends who don’t get to see my toddler (lets be real, the kid has a fan club) on a daily basis can see him growing up on Facebook. I hate the shallowness on Facebook at times. I love the thought provoking articles and blogs that my friends often share on Facebook. I hate game requests that I get on Facebook. One of the things I find fascinating about Facebook is how we as individuals and a culture cherry pick our status updates to portray a life we want others to see. Come on now…you know exactly what I mean. Vacations, date nights, exotic conference destinations, achievements, pictures that often time only capture the best moments in life. Case in point, I haven’t changed my profile picture for nearly…………., well, since I was on Facebook. Mainly, I like the picture. I’m younger, skinnier, and it doesn’t have half of my husband’s or child’s face smashed against mine or cropped off. We only pick the best “cherries” that life has to offer in our spoonful to display on Facebook.

For you research nerds, Face Negotiation Theory by Stella Ting-Toomey (doesn’t that name just have a ring to it?) is an interesting theory to apply to Facebook. This theory has been sliced and diced by various researchers over the years, but the core of the theory revolves around the conflict of managing one’s identity as an individual or culture. There is a lot more interesting facets of information on this theory, but I won’t bore you with the details. To make it simple, you have all heard of “saving face” which means we don’t like our identity (or who we think we are) to feel conflicted or threatened or our sense of self-worth questioned; well, that is what is at the core of this theory-saving face. This theory, I believe, holds true on Facebook.

So, in relation to Facebook, we create a Facebook “face” that probably only captures some of the best moments (cherries) of our life. There is good reason we do this; really, most things are just best left unsaid. Although some of my friends on Facebook must not believe this; seriously, I don’t care you just did your laundry or took your pooch for a walk. Imagine a world for at least one day where everyone typed status updates or comments that really says what’s behind our face for that day. I am sure it would create a lot of questions, possibly hurt feelings, and realness that we just couldn’t handle. But it is fun to use your imagination and think of the possibilities. Muwhahahah! Here are some examples of the status updates or comments that might surface on the day of true face. Before you go judging, don’t be making your “face” so important that you take these comments personal.

  • I just ate at a five star restaurant, paid out the wahzoo and the food sucked.
  • I didn’t like you in high school, why did I accept your friend request?
  • I didn’t like you in high school, but you are pretty darn cool now.
  • Great picture of you (speaking at the conference, morning worship, and picnicking with your kids)…where is the one where you were dancing on the table last night?
  • Your views on (religion, politics, blah, blah) do not align with mine, and no matter how many times you post them, I ain’t drinking your Kool-Aid.
  • You and your significant other make ugly babies.
  • I just picked my nose.
  • You change your relationship status more than I change my kid’s diapers (which occurs about every two hours!)
  • My (insert name of family/co-worker, etc.) is getting on my last nerve today.
  • Just yelled at my spouse for no reason. I can’t believe he stays married to me.
  • This is a picture of me and my family smiling at the beach but we really want to kill each other.
  • Today I am too fat to fit into my fat pants.
  • I’m only accepting your friend request because I want to stalk you.
  • I just considered duct taping my kid to his bed so he will stay in it.
  • Wow, it may be your sole purpose in life to serve as a warning to others.
  • You have a right to your opinions, but that doesn’t mean we really want to hear them.
  • Jesus might love you but everyone else thinks you’re an a*$hole for that last status update.
  • I hope no one lets one rip while doing the downward dog pose in yoga tonight.
  • If your job is so demanding…get off Facebook and get back to work.
  • I admire your loyalty to that hairstyle.
  • It’s so hot outside I need a spatula to get my clothes off.
  • I am experiencing DEJA POO: The feeling I have when sitting in a meeting knowing I have heard this crap before.
  • I was hoping for a battle of wits but it appears you are unarmed.
  • Oh by the way, thanks for saying hi when I saw you at the grocery store. Exactly why are we friends on Facebook?
  • Why bless your heart. It must take a lot of work to hide your backstabbing ways. While you are sticking that knife in my back, bend on over a bit and kiss my tush.
  • The truth is your lovey, gushy messages to your significant other on Facebook are just weird…do you all ever talk in person? Get a room.
  • I just ate half the container of Oreos instead of running.

Well, maybe it is best that we do save “face” on Facebook. I promise I don’t think of these things (well, at least not most of them) when I read my friends’ status updates. And, often time, I try to spare you from the ugly, meaningless truth with my updates. Remember, behind each status update and comment are real people that have good moments and bad moments. What would be your real update for the day of face truth?

Today my spoon is full of “cherries”.

Thoughts as Thick as Peanut Butter

This blog has been brewing in my heart for a while mainly because just like most folks, I do not want to share these thoughts or think about them long enough to formulate an emotion. It’s a sticky topic, like the glob of peanut butter my toddler likes to lick off the spoon right out of the jar. Tasty, yet messy. Deep thoughts…that, well, in this busy life gets crowded out by meetings, laundry, and Power Ranger reenactments. I often wonder if the human flaw and tendency to live superficially is actually a divine design to distract us from the weight of what it would be like if we truly lived. This might seem like a bit of an oxymoron. But by truly living I mean licking every drop off your spoon…kind of like peanut butter. Living by experiencing the pain and hurt, as well as, the joy and blessings, of others who are living around the world, just not those that are nearest to us. Having the energy and gumption to fight for equality for all-all the time. Spending each waking moment making the world a better place than we found it. Embracing the good that each person has to offer. Seems more exhausting than showing up for work and extracurricular activities, right?

I watched a movie, Final Cut, in 2004 (I highly recommend) where Robin Williams played a cutter who splices and dices people’s historical memory after death (as seen through the deceased person’s eyes). He cuts memories up to form a video highlight reel of the person. Kind of like the PowerPoint presentations we now see at funeral homes, weddings, etc. with pictures portraying your life. The plot was thicker than what I am describing, but, I often wonder if someone had the capability after death to “cut” my memories and share them-what would they be? Who have I made an impact on? How did my life look different from my eyes compared to another person’s eyes.

Experience-one size doesn’t fit all. But for me, these are the things that fill my mind in my 30s that fit into my mind differently in previous years of my life. I am not saying that this is a rite a passage for 30s…I am simply saying this is occurring for me in my 30s…who knows if I am a late bloomer or early! Recently, we had some great friends from college visit us for the weekend. Only true friends brave a rental house in the “hood” (I use that word lightly-I know it could be worse) for some quality time together. Being that we both have toddlers we decided to order take out for dinner. It was a debate as to whether the wives or husbands would go get takeout while the others gave the boys their baths…but we ladies grabbed the keys first and off we went for sushi. When we called in the order, the restaurant told us it would take 20-30 minutes and despite the fact that the restaurant is 3 minutes from our driveway…we felt we better head that way and wait…conveniently at the bar. My friend and I have shared a lot of laughs and stories over cocktails… but this one was somehow different. I found us experiencing the same thing, yet describing it in our own words. In a nutshell, we were worried about sucking all of the juice out of the honeysuckle of life. On our brains were not discussions of work commitments, dreams of Pinterest projects, piles of laundry, or exotic travels. It was simply…how do you know you are living every moment to the fullest and how do you not guilt trip yourself when you fall short.

As our discussion developed, it dawned on me that these were ideas that weren’t a part of our discussions in our 20s. For us those years happened to be more sheltered or innocence; maybe even selfish. In our 30s we have seen friends lose their jobs, marriages crumble, parents and grandparents pass away. We understand the gravity of what it means to have a healthy child. And the fear of that blessing turning into hell with one test result. We have seen the effects of evil diseases. We have watched friends mourn the loss of their spouse. We have seen the beauty in a good deck of cards, and the cruelty in a losing hand. People have disappointed us. We have disappointed others. The list goes on and on…but in the midst of all of that…the core remains how do you live each day to the fullest, how do you not fret over the uncontrollable and the unforeseen. How do you be the best spouse, friend, daughter, sister, etc. you can be? How do you create a life for your child so that he or she doesn’t spend the rest of his/her life trying to sort through it? How do you savor all of the “first” and all of the “lasts” your journey has to offer? How do you indeed leave the world a better place than you found it?

The truth is there isn’t an easier answer or even a single answer. The tactic that works one day is derailed by life on another day. Each day you try to be better than the day before. Sometime this evolution is moment by moment. You continuously deprogram yourself from the jargon that this negative word offers. You keep your eyes, ears, and heart open to a cause or need. You say I am sorry. You say I love you. You get happy. You forgive others. You forgive yourself. You spend more time thinking, believing, and doing what your good at doing. You live in the moment, not the past or the future. And, you eat sushi that, well, was ready long before that conversation finished. Peace, love, and happiness folks…keep becoming your best self!

Today my spoon if full of deep thoughts of licking up every bit in my spoon.

24/7 on the job…Mom

Last week, I had surgery on my knee. The MRI showed a tear in my meniscus.  After 1.5 hours of exploratory surgery-not a single little tear could be found. Arghh!! The good news is I have just been hobbling around like a pirate for a few days instead of being on crutches throughout the upcoming holiday season. The bad news …well, I have a battle wound on my leg (AKA a scar) and we still don’t know what is wrong with my knee. So next steps are physical therapy and taking arthritis medication. Seriously, arthritis?  For those that know me well, know I haven’t worn my bones out from my athletic prowess.  My late grandmother suffered from arthritis.  When the condition would bother her, she used to say her “Arthur” was acting up as if it was her mischievous friend.  I guess, Arthur is now my new “friend.”

My husband has been most helpful and most gracious during my surgery and recovery. And frankly, I am a horrible patient. I am a grumpy beast. I hate depending on others and dislike having to sit and watch life pass me by while my leg is propped up at a certain angle and healing. I am humbled by individuals who have had to be patient while their bodies were healing for a long period of time. Anesthesia and pain killers make me sleep like a bear hibernating for the winter. However, through this experience, I have learned there is one job that you are never off duty for and that is the job of mom. You know you’re a mom when….

  1. In the surgery center recovery area you ask for Goldfish Crackers. And despite the amnesia, you remember being disappointed they were not the extra cheesy blast variety.
  2. Your bummed you got an entire night to yourself in a king size bed (husband, kido, and cat took the couch) and were too drugged to remember it.
  3. Having been sleep deprived for months you first thought after you realized you slept for 16 hours straight is “do I have bed sores?”
  4. While sleeping you remember a pirate with a hammer visiting your beside and you are pretty sure it was your toddler and not a weird dream.
  5. Instead of a bell, your husband leaves you a plastic trumpet on the night stand to blow if you need help. Honestly, my loving husband probably wanted to tell me where to shove that trumpet a few times.
  6. Your family says “It’s been 24 hours…aren’t you back to being superhero mom? “
  7. You have to take sponge baths for a week to avoid infecting your wound, but you forgot to ask the doctor about slobbery toddler kisses on your “boo boo.”
  8. You beg to go to the grocery shopping because it is considered “me time.”
  9. Your first meal post operation you ask for macaroni and cheese.
  10. You still can explain to someone what your toddler is saying even though you are drugged out the wazoo.

Today my spoon is full of thanks for good health! Mom’s don’t have time to be sick!

This “Two” Shall Pass

From birth, heck from pregnancy, most parents are automatically in a competition with each other…especially mothers.  And it is not in our nature to air our dirty laundry.  Doing so is a sign of weakness to the competition. After all, our kid’s perfectness is a direct reflection of our perfection. But for the sake of creating empathy among parents, especially mothers, I am airing my laundry today. Most of us like to think the rest of the world operates in little pockets of utopia where their children are perfect, the parents have the heart of Super Nanny, and life goes as planned. My life has been quite the contrary since the terrible twos became a guest at our house. A dear friend of mine shared the following quote with me which I will PG-13 rate for the sensitive folks.

They are called the “terrible twos” because” f*#&ing awful” doesn’t start with a T.

Quite frankly, I couldn’t have said it better myself. The mother who texted this quote to me is a top-notch mother in my book and I appreciated her rawness! Seriously, what happens at two? And I thought colic was bad!

Borrowing from an 80s movie reference, my cute child goes from Gizmo to Gremlin with something as simple as the wrong Sippy cup filled with apple juice when he wanted orange juice.  For the past few weeks, our days go something like this. At 6:45 he wakes up. Before his eyes are open he says “nack” which means he wants a snack…AKA breakfast. No worries, Prince Cooper, your Gogurt and juice await you. By 6:47 he is telling me “NO TEETH” and “NO SHOES” which means he has no intentions of brushing his teeth or wearing his shoes today. The clock hands seem to be moving at warp speed as I try to finish getting ready while he downs his “nack”. I hear his feet hit the floor the moment he finishes.  He makes his way crying to the bathroom like I have been gone for weeks. He begins climbing my legs. I swear it is like he is trying to crawl back in the womb some mornings. A few minutes later, we have a WWF wrestling match to get his clothes and shoes on. I won’t even go into the details of how the socks have to be “just right” so they don’t hurt his feet and how the tags on his shirt itch his back.

By this point in the morning, the cat is standing at the door meowing because she wants outside. Don’t we all want to escape Miss Kitty? Well, the luxury of a house cat affords you the opportunity of enduring this fine morning with the family. If anyone is going outside to be alone it is me. For goodness sake cat, you have the house to yourself all day! Next, comes the tooth-brushing smack down. And, really, what’s the point….these stupid things are going to fall out in a few years anyways. All of these morning activities, which may I add, are usually done with me wearing dress clothes and heels!

Fast forward to leaving the house, round two continues  as I try to pile drive him into the car seat. His body automatically morphs into a stiff board the minute the car door opens. As soon as I get one arm in the restraint, the other is out.  Off we go to daycare and work…awww…some peace and quiet. Crap!  The sun is in his eyes. Now he is crying again and yelling “NO SUN.” A part of me secretly thanks God that his beautiful beams of sun are causing temporary angst for this holy terror. Maybe some angelic beams will penetrate him.  Out of the car to daycare we go, a little clingy-but he is always happy to see his teachers. Off to work I go, usually sweating like I am having a menopausal moment. Rushing in the door I manage to greet everyone with a smile on my face despite the war zone I just went through.  Who knows if my clothes match? Heck, I may not even have all of my clothes on. I probably have Gogurt in my hair or splattered on my rear. None-the-less, I am here and ready to conquer the day.

Fast forward….the work day is done and let’s face it…some days are filled with adults who appear to have never exited the terrible twos. Long gone are the memories of the morning stress. Off I go to daycare to pick up my pride and joy. I’m ready to see my little munchkin and spend quality time with him. I am greeted with a big smile. A good sign, right? Yes! He has had a good day. Or at least that’s the report. Maybe his teachers lie to me and act pleasant as if he is a good child for them.  Off we head to the car. Noooo! My holy terror is back for a WWF rematch thrashing as he goes in the car seat. I’m really beginning to wonder…does this kid hate me? People in the parking lot probably think I have taken a child that doesn’t belong to me. The little demon from earlier in the day reappears and the remainder of the night is a battle of wills. Whining, crying, more whining….picking our poor 12 year old cat up with grilling tongs, yelling “NO JESUS” and “NO AMEN” when we say our prayers…and on and on and on. Is it bedtime yet?  Close enough…off to bed we go….all four of us snug in the bed (me, my husband, toddler, and cat).  Please Lord, don’t let tomorrow be Groundhog Day.

I know the terrible twos are a phase and this too shall pass. I wonder why the twos are so terrible? Is the Devil a two year old? If so, I never want to meet him. On average, my child has more sweet and funny moments than “terrible two” moments or we would be looking into a refund policy. Luckily, his cute Gizmo moments, outweigh his Gremlin tendencies. But, unfortunately, those angelic moments, right now, often occur when he is with other folks.  As a parent, I guess this is a labor of love step to condition your heart for unconditional love.

As my husband walked out the door wrestling our angel all the way to the car this morning he said, “I wish we could come home and the Super Nanny’s car would be in our driveway”.  To which my child said “NO NANNY”. Sure, we might be a case for the Super Nanny…but with a lot of love, a ton of patience, and a few ounces of wine…the terrible twos will be distance memories and replaced by the ““what’s that threes”, the obnoxious puberty years, the brainless teenage years, the experimental college years, etc. I air my laundry because life isn’t perfect and mine isn’t either. So if you are a mother of a two year old (or a mother of any age child), take a deep breath and realize that more of us have been to this place than we will ever admit. Keeping moving forward. The goal is to survive the terrible twos and not create an adult who has a persistence case of the terrible twos. The world has enough of those already!

Today my spoon is full of terrible twos. Hmmm…I wonder what my WWF Mommy Stage name could be?

Eat Some Carpe Diem

Quite a few folks have asked me “where is your blog this week” and to you I say thank you for missing me. I have missed blogging. It’s a creative outlet I have come to love. I promised to be authentic on this blog-so to answer your question “where have I been? “ Well…drowning in work and life. Mucho deadlines at work, building a house, a traveling hubbie, and a bummed knee have caught up with me this week. So this blog is short and sweet!

If you’re having one of “those” weeks, in the midst of the busy chaos stop and have a real big spoonful of life. For peace of mind go ahead and resign as general manager of the universe and do something for yourself and those you love. Enjoy the beautiful weather, get your hair or toes did, have a massage, catch up with a friend, go on an adventure with the kiddos, commit a random act of kindness, have a date night with your love, etc. Whatever, just stop and enjoy it.  Tonight, Coop and I are going on an outdoor picnic adventure.

Meanwhile, enjoy your spoonful and see you next week! There is so much to blog about…Honey Boo Boo drama, Todd Akin speaking on behalf of all uteruses, the idiot I met who said kids in daycare go to kiddy kennels (that one sent me over the edge), my 23 days of coke sobriety (let me clarify that-Coca Cola)….got a lot of material stuck in my head! Looking forward to jumping back on the blog wagon next week.

Today my spoon is full “carpe diem” for the things that matter most.

Hello… a Call from Communication Memory Lane

Communication makes the world go round. From smoke signals to pigeons to Morse Code, we as humans have always found a way to communicate. Perhaps the most famous (although a little thing called Apple has given him a run for his money) invention for communication was in 1876 by a fellow name Bell who created the telephone. His innovation created the platform that has undergone a radical transformation in the last 136 years.

Each phase of my life coincides with stories about telephones. Since I was a small child, I have always loved human interest news shows like 20/20. For most of my childhood, I envisioned myself being the next Barbara Walters (hmmm…maybe I can be Barbara Walters of the blog world). I recall one episode about technology and how one day we would be able to see the people we talk to while on the phone. I imagined a giant TV screen that had a numerical key pad and a giant phone connected by a cord. I remember thinking what happens if people call and you aren’t dressed or your hair isn’t fixed…. I guess I never thought you could just ignore the call (now there is a button to do just that). Being able to actually hear someone’s voice and see them on the phone simultaneously seemed space aged to a girl who just started dialing the numerical prefix to phone numbers when the last  four digits would no longer suffice.

My next memory of phone technology occurs in my preteen years. I recall getting the “answering machine” at our house. I remember jumping out of the car and running in the house from the garage to see who had left a “detailed message” after the beep. Although I was embarrassed at the time, I can now chuckle about a group of boys that use to leave long, ridiculous messages on the machine (gosh, wish I would have kept those). I also remember my grandmother would leave a message and at the end of her message she would say “maw” as if she was signing her name to a letter or we didn’t know who she was.

During my teenage years, I experienced what I thought were communication luxuries like calling waiting and caller ID. In hindsight, these were really just efforts for my parents to spy on me and have a fighting chance of having a few minutes on the phone. While I was in high school, my parents purchased their first cell phone. It was in a black bag and came with a detachable antenna you put on the roof of your car. It was for emergencies only. Minutes were pricey and precious. Occasionally, I would get to carry the “bag” phone in my car. Even if I didn’t make a call, it felt so cool to carry that bag out of the house and stick that antenna on my Ford Probe. There is a reason, you no longer see bag phones or Ford Probes and for that I am thankful.

In college, personal cell phones still weren’t popular. I know it is hard for current college students to believe, but I managed to make it to class on time and have an active social life without a cell phone to call or text my friends. Toward the end of college, car phones were becoming increasingly popular. And finally the true mobile phone started hitting the scene. My last year of college, I bought a cell phone plan because it was cheaper than paying for a landline. Heck half the time I didn’t even take it out of my house.

During my early professional years, I found myself a newlywed with a husband in Iraq. I was able to forward our home phone to my cell phone so I could reduce the possibility of missing his phone call. He was among some of the first men and women to be deployed, so calls home were rare because communication systems weren’t established (luckily, this got better further into the war). Since I was carrying my cell phone with me, I noticed I had stopped wearing a watch. After all, I didn’t’ need it because my cell phone always told me the time. I also starting texting during this time period. I will be honest, at first my text included words like “yes” “no” and “k”. After my department started making fun of me for my short messages and got me a texting for dummies book for my Boss’s Day, I stepped up my game.  Now, I have an unlimited texting plan and I can text all sorts of abbreviations, videos, pictures, and sometimes even short dissertations.

In my thirties, I find that “telephone” communication is more important than ever. Somewhere between carrying that bag phone and present time- a revolution occurred in my life. My phone is practically a family member. When my toddler discovers it in the house, he automatically brings it to me as if I should be missing it. My phone tells me where to be, it reminds me of tasks and appointments, informs me of what’s around me, keeps me up-to-date on the weather, notifies me about how much money is in my bank account, shows me how to get places, plays my favorite tunes, keeps track of my exercise, takes pictures and videos of precious moments, serves as a calculator, houses my addresses book, provides games to my child, and serves as an alarm clock. I am actually typing my blog from my cell phone as I wait on a meeting to start. And…as that 20/20 show shared back in the late 80s/early 90s, my phone now allows me to see the person I am talking to. I never imagined 20 something years ago, when watching that show, that I could be anywhere in the world and would be able to read a story with my toddler, sing songs, and say our prayers together. My son, will never know a world where he can’t see the person on the other end of the phone.

I wonder one day what my phone will look like? Will my iPhone seem like the size of a shoe box compared to the phone I carry when I am 100 years old? What will my phone do for me then? Check my blood pressure? Cook for me? The possibilities are endless and I can’t wait to see and embrace what communication technology the future holds.

Today my spoon is full of cool communication memories.

Dear Secret Lover…

Dear Secret Lover,

Breaking up is hard to do. And it’s not me…it’s actually all YOU. I know we have been together for a LONG time now. We practically met when I had a baby bottle in hand. Our love for each other can be described as Jekyll and Hyde.  You ignite me and motivate me, yet hours later you leave me feeling lethargic and empty. Just thinking of you brings a bubbling sensation to my body. I have tried replacing you, but no one quenches my thirst like you do and I always run straight back to you craving the taste of you on my lips. When I see you, my body aches to touch your shapely silhouette. Even though my husband has seen us together, he doesn’t know the extent of my love for you. He’s out of town all next month which gives me the opportunity to spend even more time with you. I need you. I want you. But this has to stop. This is actually the worst month I could break up with you…I have a huge stack of projects to complete in the upcoming month and a toddler in my life that has more energy bottled in him than a Red Bull.  As fate would have it, I spent the last night with you in the museum having you 60 different ways (ladies….be jealous). As the saying goes…I went out with a bang (and fizzle and pop)! You have such a way of invigorating my very soul. Living without you is not going to be easy but the fact is- your just no good for me. Maybe one day we can have an occasional rendezvous without me falling for you all over again. Until then, I will be keeping a safe distance from you.Good bye…Coca Cola our relationship is over.

Addicted to your love,

Me

I LOVE Coke! I know in the South we call every soda product a “coke” but I mean I really love the real thing! No substitutes. No knockoffs or other brands. No diets. No zeroed out versions-the real deal. I realized I was addicted to the love of Coke when my toddler started calling it “momma juice”. What my toddler doesn’t know is the real mommy juice is brought out when I have a quiet moment while he is in bed.

The Vault

As I have been contemplating breaking up with Coke and blogging about it, fate landed me in an Atlanta hotel close to the Coca Cola Museum. I decided to take a pilgrimage to the museum to say my final goodbyes. I learned about the taste of happiness, watched how the product was bottled, sold, and marketed. I walked by the vault that holds the secret formula that only two people in the world know.God, if I am ever stranded on an island with one other person, please let one of the people that knows this secret formula be stranded with me…and make that person a hot, smart guy!

 

At the museum, I spent most of my time in the tasting room sampling the 60 different Coca Cola products from across the globe. I must say, nothing quenched my thirst like the American Coca Cola. I left with museum with a sovenier glass bottle of Coca Cola that was bottled that day…maybe I will pop the cap on that bottle in July 2013 for a celebration of my one-year breakup with my love.

Since stopping for a Skinny Caramel Macchiato doesn’t fit in this momma’s schedule most mornings…there is nothing that gets my blood going and my brain working like a cold, refreshing Coke. It’s liquid ambition in a glass, plastic, can, or Styrofoam container.  The fact is the product is empty calories and filled with things my body doesn’t need. It’s a waste of my time to avoid certain unhealthy foods, run, and exercise while continuing to drink empty calories. In the name of health, I am breaking up with the love of my life. For now, it’s all or nothing…so I am selecting “nothing.” Maybe one day I can have a sip and not go back to “all.” As the saying going, misery loves company…who is with me?

Today my spoon is full of the last drop of “mommy juice”.

Going to the Chapel

My husband and I went through a few years where our summers were filled with weddings. As newlyweds ourselves, they seemed like such hopeful and romantic events. Then we transitioned to attending baby showers…and this summer we are back to weddings. Not necessarily individuals that didn’t work out a few summers back. We’ve attended a charming small wedding, sent gifts to a wedding we couldn’t make, and attended a Vietnamese wedding which I couldn’t understand much (mostly spoken in Vietnamese)-but it was a pretty darn cool ceremony. Being nearly a 10-year seasoned veteran of marital bliss (okay most days), my perception of this summer of weddings is a little different than those I attended a few years back as a newlywed.

Some of my ramblings on marriage are based on personal experience and others on observations.  It appears when we attend a wedding we are more concerned about the gift, the wedding colors/deco/gown, what we are wearing, what is the food, is there an open bar…or for me…what flavor is the cake? I LOVE wedding cake-white cake with white icing. ”Nom nom” (yum yum) as my toddler says. However, in the midst of the entire wedding extravaganza I think as guests (and sometime as the new couple) we often miserably fail on two levels. Unknowingly, most of us fail to #1 Appreciate and support the individual (spouse) on this journey called life and marriage and #2 Support the union.  Often time an individual gets lost in the union, and the union gets lost in the individual.  It’s a delicate balance one must strike as a spouse and as a friend or family member supporting a couple.

It seems that the support needed for a successful marriage is lost with most traditional wedding ceremonies. This was more evident to me as I attended the Vietnamese ceremony recently. In this particular ceremony there was a strong sense of respect for each other; togetherness, yet individuality; and a very strong commitment to the joining of the two families (rather than just the two individuals trying to blend two families). In a traditional wedding-it often appears that rituals pretty much stack the deck for failure against the couples from the moment the wedding is being planned.

Cool pic borrowed from Pinterest.

It starts with whose family is paying for what. Then, it moves to the actual wedding where the groom’s family sits on one side and the bride’s family sits on the other side of the isle (what would it hurt to sit together?). These two lives may join as “one” but darn it-we will live out the Hatfield and McCoy mentality and remain separate as a family for the rest of your marriage.  Then you publicly vow to become one-which really is a lie. You have to be two and learn to work as one. Next is the honeymoon where you can ignore family, work, real life stuff which is not reality. Then after the honeymoon the conversations moves into who gets what holiday, etc. Where does the madness stop?

Now, I may be a bit of a bitter bride. Six months to the date of my wedding (already mostly planned and purchased)…a little guy by the name of President George Bush declared Operation Iraqi Freedom which sent my Marine Reservist (who had less than 30 days on his contract) packing to one of the world’s largest sandboxes. So we were forced to wed with the immediacy of a shotgun wedding (like opening the court house on Sunday for a marriage license-talk about small town gossip). No I didn’t get to wear my dress because it needed alterations. I did wear it later when we had a celebration recommitment ceremony upon his return (Does this mean I married the same man twice? Yes.). So I will be transparent and say I didn’t quite follow the traditional route. However, ten years of life, love, and devotion has provided me a different perspective on marriage. It is also changed how I support people at their marriage.

For me and my house, we are two people who change every day because of life, but constantly work to enrich what we love about each other and maintain the common ground as sacred ground. We remain individuals, yet committed to the same goals for each other and for our marriage. For family and friends, our life and events are open access-we don’t deal with drama of family sides, making everyone happy, etc-but family/friends are free to be as miserable as they desire on their own turf.

If I were to marry my husband again (well, actually for the third time), I believe our vows would be a little different knowing what I know now. I am certainly committed to making a healthy marriage where there aren’t sides, where individuality is appreciated, and a union is sacred-and not only for my marriage. I believe living my/our life with these vows as a foundation impacts my relationships with others, my son’s future relationships, and others in my family for generations to come.  I will extend the same respect and support my friends and their marriage rather than making obstacles and barriers. I will appreciate them as individuals and as a union.  And…the next time I attend a wedding-I might just toss a coin and decide which side I will sit on…or maybe I will just sit right in the middle.

Today…I wish my spoon was full of wedding cake…because it is indeed one of my top three favorite foods!

Friend Measuring Stick-Reason, Season, Lifetime

Recently, I had a short visit with a dear old friend who I have seen maybe twice in the last 16 years. Unfortunately, the death of her father was the occasion that caused me to pay her a visit. Although years have passed since we shared fun and laughter in our teen years, I couldn’t help but want to hug her while she was struggling with the reality of losing her daddy. My encounter with her got me thinking about all of the fun (which for the sake of reputations I won’t go into details) we had and how there have been different friends for different reasons and seasons of my life. I know there have been tons of emails and Facebook poems about friends-so my epiphany is nothing really profound. However, sometimes we expect our friendships to all stay the same throughout our life-but the fact is we change every day and so do the friendships. Change doesn’t discount their value. Change doesn’t discount the importance of that person or the great fun and emotion experienced. There are friends that get us through childhood. There are friends that endure the awkward stages of puberty with us (zits and braces included). There are friends that help us make memories and survive the teen years (I really hated being a teenager). There are friends for the college years. Friends who join you to travel abroad and experience the world. Friends with whom you throwback your first (and maybe many after that) adult beverage, friends that offer you support and laughter in a Ph.D. program. Friends who are work friends. Friends that engage your inner most philosophicalness (I’m a communication major-I make words up) with deep conversations about life, love, and happiness. Friends who are family. Friends that you really don’t know why your friends. Friends that challenge you. Friends you want to choke because you know they aren’t living their full potential. Friends that help you survive your husband being deployed in a war.  A friend that lends a much needed smile or conversation in the grocery store line. Friends that share you anxiety on an airplane full of turbulence. All encounters, no matter how brief or long, shape us and provide us something needed in that very moment.  Friends are placed in our life for a greater purpose. The lessons we learn from each person are meant to help us grow. I propose we quit using the same measuring stick to measure all of our friends and enjoy the reason and season they were meant to fulfill.

The poem below captures exactly what I want to convey. I searched for the true author of this poem and surprisingly there is quite a bit of debate about that on the Internet. So when all else fails- “author unknown” and thank you for your wisdom whoever you are!

Reason, Season, or Lifetime

People come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.
When you figure out which one it is,
you will know what to do for each person.

When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty;
to provide you with guidance and support;
to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and now it is time to move on.

Some people come into your life for a SEASON,
because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.
They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it. It is real. But only for a season.

LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person,
and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.

Today, my spoon is full of a lot of reason and season friends.

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