Remembering...

Sometimes, when you think too much time has passed, you head back to something or someone familiar, and it all clicks back into place...at least for that moment. Like friends who haven't seen each other for decades and come back together like no time has passed, as if they both went home at the end of a day and returned in the morning. "As I was saying..." one might say, without missing a beat.

Sometimes.

Life has a strange way of taking us on twists and turns, uphill and downhill, back and forth. Memories flood our brains, holding us back or pushing us forward. 

We're all a product of those memories, our past times and events and happenings -- good and bad. How do we reckon with them? How do we not allow them to drag us down or pull us under?

It's a difficult process. Certainly doable. 

Children are mirrors of those memories. They go through ages and phases that we can somewhat remember, that become very clear when we watch our offspring go through them. Of course, their experiences are different. But the fuzzy recollection of our own experiences comes back into focus...at least for that moment.

And we remember. And the memories, like old friends, take us on journeys back to times that feel forgotten yet are still in the foreground. 

"As I was saying..." the memory says, without missing a beat.

Monday Musings

Well, it's been awhile, huh?

I know. I know. I promised I would try to do better...but, in fact, I feel like I've done worse.

It's been a busy decade or so. Changing from a mommy of two to a mom of three threw me completely out of whack. There's so much more to do and say and buy...and wash. Some weeks I just give up and sit around eating bon bons while watching soap operas...

Ha! If only.

So where have I been? Here...there...everywhere...but mostly just home -- or at least nearby. Working, momming, driving, wifeing...

My little kids turned into the "big kids." (Who knew that would happen??) They're both in college now...in the midst of finals week and preparations for next steps.

My little baby -- who is anything but little...and a baby -- is now 10 going on 75. (No, seriously. Some days I feel like he's aging quicker than I am.) He's in 6th grade this year...and very nearly finished.

I just cannot believe we're at this point in the year.

I'll probably do some kind of recaps, trying to summarize what's been happening in the past millennium gadzillion too many 10 years or so. But I'll also continue to post about new stuff about what's happening now. Because there's lots of good stuff coming up this month, especially. [Hums "Pomp and Circumstance." and "God Save the Queen" to herself.] And life doesn’t ever stop long enough for me to catch up.

We've said happy hellos to lots of new friends...and sad goodbyes to too many old friends. We’ve moved from phase to phase, trying to adapt along the way. There’s no parental instruction book. Well, not one written specifically for your kid or mine...or anyone else’s, for that matter.

2019.

Nearly halfway through it. Nearly another new decade.

Musing merrily on a Monday. It's what I used to do...every week...it's what I want to do again.

So for now, I'll keep this short and (hopefully?) sweet.

*wink-grin*

Until the next time!

A Funny Little Thing Called...Life

There's a thing to understand about life...and that thing is that life is not always understandable.

Curve balls can be -- and often are -- thrown at any moment, without warning. We may think that we have everything all planned out and moving along like our favorite movie's storyline....but it doesn't always work that way. (Wouldn't you love to have an umpire shout about the "next batter"?)

And then there's the comparison trap. We look around at friends, neighbors, movie stars/singers, and even strangers and think that they have it all together. They're so much more successful than us. Their lives are moving along swimmingly, like our favorite movie's storyline. So why aren't ours?

Because those people don't exist.

Hang on a moment. They don't exist?

Huh?

Stay with me.

They don't exist -- not in the realm of our own true reality. They don't live with us, right? We can't look into their houses or apartments or work spaces, like a little child playing with a dollhouse, right?

And while, in truth, their reality is exactly the same as ours, filled with curve balls that throw them off course and create bubbles of confusion, frustration, and envy, they aren't here.

Of course, in realness they are. They are every bit as real as you and me. If they came to visit, they would eat and drink and talk and laugh the same as we do.

But when they're not with us? Who knows. Maybe they're just cardboard cutouts made to keep us in comparison confusion, virtual reality to look like they're there. They aren't living with us. They are people we hear about on the news or read stories from on Facebook...so how do we really know? And why do we really need to know?

Like the Schrodinger's cat experiment, they might be there...they might not. And in the spirit of getting on with our own lives, who cares?

I'm not saying we shouldn't care for or about each other -- that's another blog post (and probably one that I've already blogged about lots in the past). I'm saying we shouldn't care about what each of us is or isn't doing.

Because, if you think about it, everyone is struggling in his or her own way. Everyone feels down at some point. Not everything is "great" in a person's life, just because he or she has money, a good job, a seemingly fantastic spouse or girlfriend/boyfriend, sweet, obedient, and talented children or pets.

We're so focused on others and how they are doing in their lives that we forget our own lives.We need to leave behind the "what ifs" and "if onlys" and get to what is.

Enjoy your own job. Have fun with your own kids or pets, Love your own significant other. Worry about your own finances and feel blessed with what you have.

And when you have a curve ball thrown at you? Pray. And, in doing so, remember to pray for others who also face curve balls.

In the big scheme of things, everything else is just fluff.

==============

What are your thoughts? How do we get off the comparison train that seems to derail us in life?

A Decadent Decade

Has it really been 10 years since I posted my first blog post on here?

10. Whole. Years. ???

Wow!

That's so amazing. When I started, I thought that blogging was more of a vanity thing. Like journaling for the world to see. Then I realized it was a good way to keep track of stuff -- happenings, memories, accomplishments, milestones.

And, while I haven't been able to stay completely faithful in writing on here, I have enjoyed it. It's fun to muse and remember and ruminate on the stuff bouncing around my head.

And it's even more fun to go back and reread the happenings of the past 10 years, memories I might have forgotten without this little blog-thing.

So here's to -- hopefully -- 10 more years?

Thanks for reading!

Mom Law

There are some things in life that defy explanation. One such thing is something I've deemed the "Mom Law of the Universe," and that's the compulsion of moms everywhere to say things that apparently don't need to be said. That are so blatantly obvious or unnecessary that they provoke the stereotypical teenager "eyeroll and sigh."

Com'on, Moms. You know what I'm talking about. Uh-huh. Yup. Been there, done that, right?

Yet somehow, despite the fact that we know our kids would never do whatever we're about to ask them not to do, we have to say it. At this point, it's not even a matter that self-control could stop.

We. Have. To. Say. It.

For instance, when they leave for a visit with friends, we always say "Behave." or "Be good." Really, if we didn't say it, would they act like monsters?

Maybe it stems from the fact that we have to constantly remind them of such things when they're toddlers. No one comes into the world knowing the rules of the road, so to speak. Most kids, as toddlers, will touch things unless they are reminded not to touch ahead of time. More often than not, kids will not remember to use their inside voice in a theatre the first time they go to see the symphony. Nor will they sit in a seat and eat a meal if they are not told that that's what we do. It's just not part of their makeup.

Just because they see other people doing it doesn't mean they'll know that that's what they're supposed to do, too. There's too much distracting them.

So at what point do we stop reminding them? Surely, they've learned a bit since toddlerhood. And even more surely we should have learned what they've learned since toddlerhood.

Since I haven't quite gotten to that part of motherhood, I honestly can't say. Though I can say with some certainty that the urge happens a little less often...either that, or it's getting easier for the kids to "smile and wave" instead of roll eyes and sigh.

But whatever the reason, we remind them, for goodness sake, be good!

I'm (Trying to Be) Baaaaaa-aaaaack...in the Saddle Again

Happy mid-March Monday to you! (How's that for alliteration?)

I don't know about you, but I really wish we didn't observe Daylight Savings Time. It really messes with the head. It's like having jet lag without going anywhere. Still in all, it's here and in a few days we won't remember that we're an hour ahead of Eastern Standard Time...still, idle grass...

So, what's been happening in your little corner of the world?

It's been awhile, to say the least. And I promise to catch up...if not today, then soon.

I had high hopes for today. I promised to publish something today, right?

But some days are days that try men's (or women's) souls....if you know what I mean.

Until later...

Some Thoughts on Thursday

Nothing is impossible; the word itself says “I’m possible”! - Audrey Hepburn

There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside of the dullest exterior there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy. - Mark Twain

Live your life and forget your age. - Norman Vincent Peale

Mom Sense...Again

I started these "Mom Sense" posts a few weeks ago with this post. And, periodically, I'll revisit the topic, as I did below.

As a kind of "disclaimer" to everything I post, I don't think my opinion is anything but that: an opinion. It's certainly not the last word on any given topic. I love to debate, as long as it's healthy and respectful...and I hope my "attempts" at humor will help you realize that in no way do I mean to be disrespectful and/or offensive to anyone.

*   *   *

"My mother saw your mother hanging out clothes......my mother punched your mother right in the nose...."

It's a very strange childhood song to a jump-roping or hand-slapping game...one I never really liked to sing. But, sadly, it's a realistic picture of the sometimes-silent/sometimes-loud competition between moms (and sometimes dads) that happens in today's world.

When did this start happening?

I don't remember my mom talking about such stuff when we were young...even though I'm sure it was there a bit.

I find it hard enough to teach my kids the importance of being themselves and not worrying about the peer pressure around them to "be the same"...when I'm fighting the same battle myself. Is it just a sign of jealousy and/or low self-confidence in the mom world?

Sadly, we feel it ALL the time.

And, for us, it started when I first got pregnant... Ugh. We decided on a homebirth. A homebirth?!?!?! Are you kidding?

Then it progressed all the way through the years. We bottle-fed. We homeschooled. We choose less activities for the kids (ie. one each).

In the beginning, I got "admiration" and told that I was SO brave for birthing at home. As I kindly pointed out to my "admirers," giving birth ANYWHERE is brave. Giving birth at home is just a different venue.  And until about 80 or so years ago, it was the norm.  My grandmother and her brother, who were from a well-to-do family in Philadelphia, were both born at home.

Then after I didn't breastfeed, I got scoffs and even some people telling me off, saying I wasn't doing what was best for my daughter and how she wouldn't be as smart or healthy because of it. I bit my tongue and watched (rather smugly, I'll admit) as the women who breastfed had to deal with ear infections and tummy upsets, sometimes more than I did. I didn't doubt what they said about breastfeeding at all. It is definitely the best option for babies -- and it's free!  But it wasn't in the picture for me -- even after I tried very hard to do it.

See that's what's called a "back story." The reason behind why somebody does or doesn't do something. But it's personal, private, and totally none of the business of casual bystanders or acquaintances.

Why should I -- or anyone, for that matter -- have to defend my decisions?

Take a look at the overall picture.  Are my kids healthy and well-fed?  Are they well-adjusted and intelligent?  Are they respectful and kind and obedient (most of the time)?

Then SHUT-UP! (Ooops...was that my out-loud voice?) Ahem, random stranger whom we've never met, er, um, please refrain from telling us your opinion of what we do in our lives.


Better? Sigh.

If our job as parents is to raise happy, healthy, good citizens to replace us and that's seeming to happen, why challenge it with griping about or criticizing our different methods of doing that?

I mean, seriously. To the person standing behind us at Starbucks, staring daggers at us before asking the "Question of the Day:"  Why do we homeschool our kids, even though we live in a perfectly good school district? Why not? (And why do you care? Ooops...out-loud voice again, huh?)

Wouldn't our job be a little easier with a few more pats on the back or encouraging words or hugs or, even, cheers?

Well, maybe. That and a few dozen cookies and cups of "milk" (or whatever you're drinking). *wink-grin*

I love opinions. I really do. And I love to share our "back story" with those who are truly interested...especially in the name of getting to know us better. I love hearing the same from those people for the same reason.

It's what makes a friendship stronger.

I wish that parents could walk beside each other, sharing ideas and methods and funny stories, without feeling like it's all a big competition.

It kind of takes the focus off of our kids, which is why we're called "parents" in the first place.

And it just makes sense.

The Job of Listening

One of the best parts of working for the newspaper is the fact that I get to be really, really nosy. I get to ask questions of people that would usually have me considered, to use a colloquialism, a "neb-nose." But it's all in the name of getting a good story, right? And most people enjoy talking.

Yet, with this fun, comes the added responsibility of how I handle this personal stuff, what I choose to include. I usually ask far more questions and get far more information that I can actually use. But by getting more than I need, I get to know my subject much better and can (hopefully) write a better story as a result.

I realized this morning, as I plowed through the 24 (!!) "mini" -- 200- to 450-word -- stories I'm doing for a "Shop Local" supplement our newspaper is producing in conjunction with the advertising department, that I've been a reporter, of sorts, all of my life.

I have always enjoyed sitting down and hearing the stories of people's pasts. I find myself transported back to another time and another place. Like a foreign country, everything feels strange and new and exciting. And I'm a very curious person.

Even as a little girl of 4 or 5, I would go next door to our older neighbor's house to have "tea" with her. I would listen to her stories. My mom said I was a "little old lady" way before my time.  But hearing people's stories gave me a kind of wisdom far beyond my years. It wasn't that I was wise...I became wise through the experiences of others.

But, lest you think I'm a great listener with the patience of a saint and the wisdom of Solomon, I'm not.

I enjoy listening, but I also want to "fix" things. If my "wisdom" gets ahead of me, I have a chronic urge to "pep talk" people -- even those who don't want help, who just need an ear.

I guess that's because it's a different kind of listening. One is to recount a story...the other to share a need.

My "wisdom" still needs tweaking.

One...

It's such a small, yet powerful, number at times...

One germ is all it takes to make a whole family sick with a cold virus.

One cookie is all it takes to win the heart of a toddler.

One stone is all it took for little David to fell giant Goliath.

One mean word is all it takes to cut a person to the core.

One word is all it takes to accept or decline a marriage proposal.

One parent is all it takes to raise kids...and yet...

Two parents support each other, make a tag team of sorts, provide balance.

Two words seal the vows of marriage.

Two words heal the damage of a mean word.

Two stones weren't necessary -- with God involved -- to knock down the giant Goliath.

Two cookies more than win the heart of a toddler and teach the valuable lesson of sharing.

Two germs....two germs....nope. No matter what size family you have, you still only need one germ. But two is what you get when it divides itself...and two more...and two more...

Stupid cold virus.

Peace

Sweet baby feet

There's a song that plays at the end of Ethan's instrumental bedtime lullaby CD that is so peaceful and sweet that I find myself nearly crying each time I hear it play over the monitor. It conjures up so many memories of when all three of my children were much smaller, and life seemed simpler.

I know. I know. Those of you with smaller children do not think that life feels simpler.

But maybe it's because I feel like I've crossed the Rubicon with my older two munchkins, and life has become decidedly more "hands-off" in some ways. Somehow that happens when they reach "double digits."

Not that they don't still enjoy a cuddle or two...or three. But they're definitely their own people, marching ever closer to college and work...and independence.... And with that comes planning and worrying and learning...and dealing with new emotions...and...and...

When they were small, life's routine had a cadence of sorts. The beat of the day moved with feeding times and diaper changes. There were storytimes and naptimes and cuddletimes and outside playtimes. To some it might have seemed mundane, but there was a peace in it -- a sense of wellness that came in knowing that everything was under control.

Now, there is just running here and there from school to activity to chores to bed. No more quiet reading times. Very few walks to the library or park. Everything must be very deliberate, planned or else missed.

Sigh.

And yet, for the moment, I will listen...and remember...the peace.

Eating Crow...Gracefully

Recently, my job at the newspaper has given me more than the usual amount of opportunities to teach my kids important lessons. It seems the busier I get -- ie. the more stories I take on -- the less organized I am and the more mistakes I make.

Sigh. 

Mistakes are, of course, a part of everybody's life in some way or another...especially as children when we're "learning the ropes" in life, so to speak. So it's not an unusual or uncommon lesson to teach.

Just hard sometimes.

Sigh.

Still, that's when it becomes such a valuable one. 

Through my attitude and actions, I am showing them how to accept mistakes and fix them properly...and, hopefully, gracefully.

Basically: Eat crow.

In today's world, so many people want to hide from their mistakes. They want to pretend nothing happened and just let things roll by. It's an age of "it's not my fault."

I must admit that it's very tempting to join in.

But, while "crow" isn't very tasty, and I won't be perusing Allrecipes.com for crow recipes anytime soon, it feels so much better to do the right thing and make sure to admit my faults, apologize, and move on.

After all, a little "crow" never hurt anyone... Because, look! I'm still here.

A Sigh and a Humph

There's a danger in blogging.

While it's a fun way to keep track of the happenings in a family -- post pictures and/or write a blurb about what goes on -- and becomes a diary of sorts, it doesn't offer a realistic picture of the day-to-day events, including the emotions and triumphs and defeats.

Well, not unless you write about those, too.

But if you write too much about them, your blog becomes a drag, a veritable notepad of complaints...weighing down the readers with all the "blueness" you're feeling.

Sigh.

It's really a balancing act, knowing which details to include and which to keep hidden in the family's wall safe (...behind the photo in the living room, combination 45-92-17... Oops! Was that my "out-loud" typing?)

So you're stuck, really.

Write about too many happy events and you almost seem too perfect, creating feelings of inadequacy in others around you. Write about too many complaints, and your readers will want to find a hemlock tree...

The power of the pen. I learned about it while studying journalism in college...and later when I worked at the newspaper.

If you say that a person "refused" to comment, while it's his right to do so, it makes the people reading/hearing the story wonder what that person is hiding. If you say he "declined" to comment, people nod and say he (the speaker) must have felt it was necessary...it's his right after all. An odd difference in two words that mean exactly the same thing, which is (drumroll, please) the guy didn't talk.

So it goes with blogging.

As the blog writers, we can include anything we want to share...or keep out anything we don't want known.

For instance, while we might have had a fun time doing "XYZ," one of the kids might have had a meltdown before we left the house and another split open his lip on his way back to the car. While the included photos show smiling cherubs and sunny weather and the text surrounding them says a "fun time was had by all," the parents might have been battling about household chores or a big bill might have come due....who knows.

Only the writer.

To the reader, the world of the blogger is just peachy, perfect all the way down to the professionally-coiffed and impeccably-dressed little ones standing in a neat row.

It's a big responsibility...and one that I take very seriously. I know that my photos and posts make it seem like our family has "fun in the sun most of the time"...but that's simply not true...not that that wouldn't be fun...in the sun...

There are tons of posting styles, and I love and appreciate and read all of them. It's the true freedom of blogging.  I try to mix up my posts, keeping in mind that occasionally I need to "be real" and say what I'm thinking and feeling at that moment, even if it's not as positive as usual.

But I'll try to never make it a "sounding off" place. I might feel so strongly about something that I have to let it out, or I'll burst...but that's all I'll do. Just let it out. It's not meant to be offensive...just my brain at that moment.

And as my brain at this moment is a bit jumbled by thoughts and emotions, I'll end with "a sigh and a humph...parenting can be so hard sometimes."

Clickety-Clackety-Click!

Do you hear that noise? That's the sound of the construction being done on my blog. I'm still tweaking my blog's new look...and I think I'm almost there.

I find that I am particularly picky when it comes to these things as the look makes or breaks my enthusiasm for my blog.

It was the main reason I didn't upgrade to the editable version of Blogger when it became available. Given too many choices, I'm paralyzed in my writing by the mere look of where I'm writing.  It took me awhile to find the "perfect" notebook and pen to begin writing offline.  (See the proof here.)

I guess that's why so many writers are deemed "tempermental." It's really not a problem...just a process that many of us have to work through to feel comfortable. It's our template...or our blank paper...where we bear our heart and soul to the world.

So hang in there with me as I work through my redesign. I think it will click when I have it just the way that I want it. And listen out for that click.

Feel free to leave me a comment or two with your thoughts on the new look. I'd love to know how readable it is...since that's what it's all about, right?