Some Things Really Do Come Free

www.freefoto.com

When I was a kid, we lived a short walking distance away from a lake. It was not a glimmering blue body of water or a place where people wanted to frequent, for that matter. In fact, there was that slimy seaweed on the bottom that I really hated...I don't remember swim shoes being available then like they are now. There were large areas, however, with that gritty sand that you could dig your toes in to.

There was also a rather short wooden dock that stretched out about thirty-five or forty feet (I'm a terrible judge of distance, but I think it's a good guess). That dock provided endless entertainment. We would sprint across those slippery planks with an innertube encompassing our twelve-year old waists and jump as far as we could in to that murky water.

For my birthday one year, my parents bought me one of those inflatable boats with oars. I would pack a lunch and spend the entire day out on the water by myself or with a good friend, tackle boxes and fishing poles in tow. As far as I was concerned, I had everything I could ever want.

When we did stay "on land", we rarely went home for lunch. Summer campers would kindly provide us with Doritos and peanut butter sandwiches out of the goodness of their hearts. They were probably wondering if we did, in fact, have homes or if we were orphans given that we barely left that beach. We doused ourselves in baby oil and tanned on flipped-over aluminum boats (we never heard about the dangers of skin cancer at that point!).

The sun would begin to set and the sting of our sunburned shoulders would nag us that it was time to go home. The lively water charged with energy from boats passing by all day came to a calm. Oranges and purples streaked across the sky and gentle breezes cooled our bodies.

Most of the kids that hung out at the lake lived in what you might consider shacks. But no one ever dared to tell us that we were poor. We had everything we needed, but more importantly, everything we could ever want.

Night had fallen, and coincidingly, the knowledge erupted within that we were kings.

Camera-happy....

Today, I am so excited because dh ordered a new camera last night. Back in July, we were on our family vacation and Dynamite managed to have a near-drowning incident...okay, that may be a little dramatic. But he did fall face-first in to the lake and began inhaling mouthfuls of immune-boosting seaweed-soaked water. Mother's instinct being what it is, I ran out in to the water to grab him. Long story short: I had our camera in one pocket and my cell phone in the other. Both fell out and Cindy-Lou Who showed her stuff by finding them in record time. Sadly, however, the camera never recovered. At the end of the day, the little guy was just fine (albeit a little frightened to go near the water) and we chalked the camera up to another life-saving adventure (I'm a stay-at-home mom; I have to make my life sound somewhat daring when the opportunity arises).

All that to say, I'm geeked! I can't wait to start sharing some recent pictures with all of you. Hope everyone is well!

I Want to be King!

I love this picture. Dear husband (dh) says it looks like Dynamite is shouting, "I AM KING OF THE WORRRLLLLD!". On that note, I wanted to share a fabulous quote from Marianne Williamson's book, A Return to Love:

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. You were born to manifest the glory of God that is within you. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Wow! This is powerful stuff. How often do we find ourselves filling our minds with negative self-talk? For example, "I'm too old to play an instrument well, why bother trying?" or "I haven't written anything in ages, I don't even think I can anymore". We allow the nay-saying to stifle out new possibilities. We hang our heads feeling defeated when we haven't even gotten out of the gate. Talk about being unfair!

As a kid, I can remember feeling embarrassed that I enjoyed reading. I recall being laughed at when I used a word like "catapulted" instead of "jumped". I was ashamed of what I loved, because it made me different. God forbid that I draw any attention to myself and step outside of the safe circle of mediocrity. We see children make fun of others all the time because something is different about them. They are thinner, they are fatter, they are smarter, they are shorter. We grow up with the voices calling out, "Don't be different! Don't stand out!". And we gradually learn to internalize those voices. And if we allow them to, the voices deter us from becoming the person we were meant to be.

Remember, who are you not to be amazing? Choose not to be stifled. Choose to be incredible. It is what you were created for.

“There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.” -Howard Thurman

A little Moonlight Sonata, please?

Remember how I was writing about being disorganized and forgetful? Well, this morning was a perfect example. I woke up and was lazily sipping my coffee while the kids played. Dh decided to go over to my parents' to work on their computer and the three musketeers wanted to tag along. As they were all piling in the car, I remembered, oh no!, I made plans to go to dh's aunt's house which is an hour and a half away. At this point, it was roughly ten o'clock and I was still in my jammies. Let the William Tell Overture begin!

To make a long story short, I was able to get myself together while the kids were gone and when they got back we all headed out for our little road trip. We listened to Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs on cd along with Cindy-Lou Who's new Taylor Swift cd (I make no apologies, we both love her...the boys roll their eyes and we choose to ignore them).

It was a day of leisurely visiting and kids belly laughing. Super-boy and Cindy-Lou Who took a ride out in their uncle's wagon which was hitched to the back of a tractor. Believe me, they were in their glory. Dynamite wanted to get on, but he didn't want to get on, if you get my drift. He kept crying, "wa-non! wanon!", but every time I would try to put him in, he would wrap his arms around my neck in a death grip. Maybe next time...

So, in spite of my forgetfulness this morning, it turned out to be a really pleasant day. Ending with a little bit of Moonlight Sonata, which is way more relaxing than the way it started out.

The Muffins Can Wait

"Mom, how do you spell 'Grandpa -------'?". Or "Mom, how do you spell 'You are my best friend and I love you'?". (I know I'm messing up my punctuation here, fellow English nerds--I will get out my MLA and straighten myself out, I promise). And so, I begin slowly, "M-o-m...".

I really want to bake muffins today. I want to do something that requires my complete attention and have zero interruptions. But my husband so gently broke it to me today, "I don't know if you're going to get that...this...year". Nice. And I may not. So, how do I cope? How do I manage to feel fulfilled when right now, as I'm typing, Dynamite is spilling Cheerios all over the floor that I just swept. Cindy-lou Who continues to call out her spelling demands from her corner of the living-room , and Super-boy stands here chattering in my ear about Pokemon.

...And now Super-boy is doing somersaults off the couch...
...And now Dynamite is emptying my pan cupboard...

Perhaps surrender is the answer. Lay it down. Right now, I need to be content with what is before me and recognize that being in the will of God is fulfilling my responsibilities at this very moment in time. At this very moment, it is my duty to gently get my children headed toward bed. To read a story, brush their teeth and say prayers...without gritting my teeth and doing so in the most hurried manner possible. It is my blessing to be able to kiss them on their foreheads and tell them that they are loved and that they are good.

And to tell myself that the muffins can wait. To be fully present. Wow, it is so hard to do that. But for tonight, I will do my best.

A Time to Dance

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under
heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up
what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep; and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek and a time to lose;

a time to rend, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Today, my Aunt Eileen and I buried my grandma. She has been gone for over a year now and my aunt has had her ashes in an urn at her house. We finally felt it was time to lay her down to rest. It was a beautiful fall day, full of autumn breezes, one that my grandma would have basked in.

My aunt and I shared a lot of great memories and knew that grandma was laughing right along with us. One of the greatest things about her was that when she laughed, her shoulders shook up and down. Even if there was not a sound coming out of her mouth, her body was jiggling.

Right after my biological father died, my grandma and aunt went to a group meeting that they were told would help them cope with their loss. The group began by going around and making introductions. The first person they came to said, "My name is _____ and I have terrible anxiety. I can't even go to the grocery store without having a panic attack". The second person, "My name is _____ and I break out in to cold sweats when I leave the house". As the introductions continued, my grandma and aunt realized they were in a group for people who suffer from agoraphobia. My aunt remembers that out of the corner of her eye, she saw my grandma's shoulders start to shake up and down uncontrollably.

Even in the midst of unbearable pain, there is reason for laughter. We have certainly grieved, but today we celebrated and did so with a smile.

Easy Chicken Parmesan

Just a recipe for you to try out. Super easy and very enjoyable. I generally use my homemade spaghetti sauce with this, but I've also grabbed a jar of Bertoli and that works nicely also. Enjoy!http://recipes.epicurean.com/recipe/854/easy-chicken-parmesan.html

European-style Cooking

For years I've tried to get more organized when it comes to my grocery list. I have tried to make one or two week meal plans in an effort to frequent the grocery stores less-frequently. ;-) I have tried switching up my shopping days. It sounds trite and maybe a little OCD, but when you have three kids, it's not that easy to pick-up and pop-in to the store.

Since Cindly-Lou Who (5) and Wonderboy (7) have started school, I have found that the Italian approach to grocery shopping and meal planning works best in our house. That is: "It's 11 a.m., hmmm...what should we have for dinner tonight?". And then, we proceed to the store to purchase said items. Of course, I look to see what I have at home first and then go from there. But when I was making the one/two week meal plans, a lot of times I just wouldn't feel like making that basil chicken when Thursday rolled around. And now that Dynamite (2) is the only one at home in the morning, it is easy for us to pick-up and pop-in. Not only is less food going to waste, but I am really enjoying meal time more! If I've had a rough day, I pull something out of the freezer.

When I stayed in Italy for a few months, we would literally go to the market each day by foot or bike and pick up the ingredients for that night's meal. (On a bike-worthy day, I will take Dynamite in the bike trailer).

Doing this slows things down, makes it less about the finished product and more about enjoying pulling it all together. The meal is made from fresh ingredients and it gives you an opportunity to tap in to those creative juices that might be flowing.

I share this in hopes that it may help some struggling moms. I know this is not a good fit for everyone (it wasn't for me last year!), but it may be for some. Happy cooking!

Last night, I went to bed thinking, "Tomorrow will be a better day." Today, I woke up thinking, "Ugh, I still feel awful."

Most of you know that I've been taking prednisone for my eczema. Between that and the onset of shorter days (less sunlight), I've been feeling a little gloomy. Okay, that's a euphamism. I've been feeling like burying my head in a pillow and bawling my eyes out. There is no logical reason for this, and as much as I tell myself that, I still feel blue.

So today, I am going to do an experiment. I feel like staying in my pajamas and letting Dynamite watch Sesame Street, but instead, I am going to "rally," as my Sourpatch friend says. I am going to get dressed and head out, enjoy the sunshine. Mind over matter. I'm going to find a great recipe for dinner and do a load of laundry (with some cherry blossom fabric softener).

I will let you all know how it goes.
"Energy and persistence conquer all things." Benjamin Franklin

Will You Be My Friend? Check Yes or No

I feel compelled to write about friendship today. I have to preface this by sharing with you that I have some of the greatest friends that a person could have. My friends make me feel whole, grounded, secure, loved. I sometimes feel like a sixteen year old with the amount of precedence I give my friendships. But friends are important.

As a kid, we moved around a lot. I had to say goodbye on more than one occasion. In a certain respect, I think that gave me a deeper appreciation for relationships in my life; yes, people come and go, but some don't. Some are life-long companions.

Last week, I wrote in my blog about how I ate a box of Sourpatch Kids and there were no stinkin' red ones. The next morning, I am dropping off Cindy-Lou Who at kindergarten and my dear friend hands me a king size box of Sourpatch kids and says, "I hope there are some red ones in here." (Much to my delight, there were eight, not that I was counting).

A couple of months ago, all of the kids were sick. Another dear friend shows up on my doorstep with pedialyte and "sick snacks" in hand. What a thoughtful gesture! And one that meant so much to me.

I could go on and on, but I will let it suffice to say that friendships are important. They are revitalizing (at least, they should be). And they teach us that it is just as much about the other person as it is about ourselves (how often do we get stuck in the quagmire of our everyday lives?).

I will end with a quote just shared with me today by Sourpatch friend mentioned above:

"In friendship, we find nothing false or insincere; everything is straightforward and springs from the heart." - Cicero

Cashew Chicken Curry

Right now, my house is pulsing with the delicious smells of cumin and curry. I wanted to share this recipe with all of you because it is one of our favorites. You can't go wrong with this! Serve it over basmati and with parathas (which you can buy at your local Indian grocer). It is a little involved to make if you're not used to spending too much time on a recipe. I will tell you, however, that it is well worth it and I generally double the recipe so that I can freeze some (it keeps perfectly).
http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Chicken-Curry-with-Cashews-231358

Live Well

I heard a beautiful story on the radio yesterday as I was listening to Father John Ricardo on AM 990:

Mother Theresa had taken in a man who was very near death, a matter of hours. She stayed with him whispering gently over and over, "You are about to meet Jesus". Finally, just before the man died, he looked at her and said, "Is this Jesus anything like you?". What a beautiful story and example of how we are called to be like Christ to those in need.

Okay, but how do I do that in my life? I am not a nun in Calcutta. I have three kids to take care of and a house to maintain. If you are a perfectionist like me, you might think, "Wow, I could never measure up to that ideal". But I am not called to that ideal. I am called to be a wife and mother, to meet the needs of my family the best I can, and to simply be present to the everyday tasks at hand.

Right now, that task is distracting my two-year old who is on a mission to rip open a bag of cheesy popcorn...

So today, whether you are ministering to those in hospital beds, working at a desk or wiping butts for a living (aka: mom), do it well. And do it with the knowledge that we are all called to very different things, none of which are insignificant.

The Joy of Sneezing

Today marks the one year anniversary of my Grandma Graham's (and dear friend's) passing on from this world and in to a place far greater.

My grandma was an extraordinary woman. She always encouraged me in my love of writing and of music, two things that bring such joy to me. I examine my life today and know that it would not be nearly as fulfilled had it not been for her strong influence.

I watched my grandma's body slowly be taken over by Parkinson's Disease. It was over a course of some twenty plus years, but the amazing thing was that her mind stayed extremely sharp until perhaps the last couple of months.

As I watched her shaking hand try to get her fork up to her mouth, I thought how miserable her life must be. She couldn't button up her shirts or her bras anymore and no more necklaces with the little clasps that she loved. She was stuck inside now and needed someone nearby almost twenty-four/seven. 

She needed someone to assist her while she used the bathroom, yet humbled herself in doing so.

We literally had to scrape pureed food between her jittering teeth and the top of the spoon to get nutrients into her body.

In the midst of all my feeling sorry for her, I happened to sneeze. 

My grandma looked at me with a dreamy smile and asked, "Don't you just love to sneeze? I've never understood those people who try to hold their sneezes in; it's really fun to sneeze." 

And that's when I realized, the human spirit can lose all things, but if they let go of their sense of joy and gratitude, life becomes toilsome. 

My grandma held on to that truth with trembling hands.

Today I remember not her infirmities, but her strength and dignity.

I hope your day is full of the joy of sneezing and all of life's other little wonders.

Just one of those days

Today, I am feeling rather slothful. I want to lie on the couch and eat fattening foods while I watch HGTV. It was just one of those days where I couldn't get motivated.

I did, however, go on a bike ride to the bank with Graham in tow...and then I realized from the big sign on the window that it was, in fact, Columbus Day. As a side note, the tellers at the bank are very friendly when I go through the drive-thru on my bicycle.

After dinner, I ate the kids' sour patch kids that I told them they couldn't have because it would give them cavities (don't feel too sorry for them; they didn't eat their dinner, but I did eat mine...and they were asleep by this time). But there were no red ones! Only yellow and green. That's when I knew it was just time to throw in the towel and call it a day.

Tomorrow: a day full of new adventures...

Good night, everyone.

Becoming Whole

I am a sinner. I fall short in so many ways. And yet, I know that there is good within me. As John Steinbeck says in East of Eden of one of his characters, "[He] is packed to the top with good and evil". When I read that phrase, it stirred something deep inside of me. There is a literary term that also captures this juxtaposition of light and dark, called chiaroscuro.

As children, we are taught that there are good people and there are bad people. But what of the good people that make bad choices? And is there not a drop of good in those people locked away in prisons? I believe that there is. Debbie Ford, author and self-help guru has some fascinating things to say about this in her book, "The Dark Side of the Light Chasers".

We lead ourselves in to a very precarious place when we think of ourselves as fully one or the other. We are both...striving ultimately to rid ourselves of sin, but to know that we are loved "yet when we [are]sinners".

A Little Something About Bees...

Today, I went on a field trip with my kindergarten-aged daughter to the cider mill. I must say that this is one of my favorite trips of the entire year. I love the smell of apples and donuts just made. If they could take that smell and truly capture it in a Yankee Candle (I know they have great scents, but nothing compares to the real deal), I would put them out of business.

But the real reason why I am writing is because of a fascinating bit of information I heard today: a worker bee produces one twelfth of a teaspoon of honey in his lifetime. One twelfth. In an entire lifetime. I'm sure you've heard all of the old adages like, "Oh, aren't you a busy bee?". Who in the heck cares if they are busy if they don't really accomplish anything? Or do they?

They are, in fact, productive. And what they produce is perfect in its own rite. It is pure and simple. We're thinking quality here, not quantity.

It is inherent to the bee to make honey. The queen bee doesn't invite the worker bee over and say, "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna make some honey and bust your @#!*% for peanuts...okay, forget the peanuts, how about some pollen?". No. Work is in the bee's DNA. The bee was made to work, to create, and to do something of value.

I, too, was made to do these things. But I think my standards may be too high. I want to move mountains each and every day. I have a hundred and one things to do and I want to do them all perfectly...

But the life and determination of the bee sobers me. It inspires me to create something raw, beautiful, unblemished. And this something doesn't have to be over the top, but it does have to be genuine. Even if it is the very smallest feat, it need be honest. If it is a gesture, let it come from my core. If it is a touch, let it be deliberate and meaningful. If I produce something bursting with purity that equates to the bee's one twelfth of a teaspoon...it is enough.