I'm a Goody-bag Convert

Yesterday, Cindy-Lou Who got an idea in her head that she was not going to shake. "Mom, can we make goody-bags for the Valentine's Day Party at school?", she asked. Ugh. The sky grew dim and there was a bellowing organ piping in the background, "Duh-duh-duhhhhhhhh".

I don't like goody bags. I don't like all the candy that comes in them, especially the hard candy that rots my kids' teeth. I don't like the little thingamajigs that get dumped out all over my coffee table and scattered all around the house. I don't like useless stuff. And in fact, while there are those who are packrats, I am one who tends to get rid of stuff. To my husband's chagrin, a little too much stuff. (Disclaimer: To all those reading this who have given my child(ren) a goody bag, I sincerely thank you and do not mean to sound ungrateful; it is simply that I am a scrooge).

So back to the request... I tried to put her off. "Well, we'll see," those famous last words. Well, I went to pick up Super-boy from school and came back to find exactly twelve (the number of children in her class) sandwich bags filled with things ranging from Halloween candy to old pencils with no erasers, pennies, candy canes and even an old whistle. At this point, I said, "Oh, Cindy-Lou Who, wow, you did a great job, but we really shouldn't give people our old stuff". Wrong choice of words. She burst in to tears sobbing, "But I worked so hard on them!".

Here is where mom shrinks to the ground and feels like she can't get any smaller. So what if I don't like goody bags! I was hearing all kinds of craziness come out of my mouth: "Honey, mommy will go to Target and get you new heart pencils and special Valentine candy. Maybe I can even find little heart bags!". The tears began to dry, and there I was at 8:30 p.m. with a cart full of miniature dinosaurs, slinkies, jolly rancher suckers, fun-shaped notepads, the list will only make you point and laugh at what a big schmuck I am!

But here's the thing: as I was buying all of this useless stuff for my little girl, I found myself feeling a little giddy. Why? Because I was making my daughter's day. Because, well, why can't we get carried away once in a while with the little things? Her joy was totally worth the inconvenience I felt at having to sift through this stuff. And to top things off, the first words out of her mouth this morning were, "I can't wait to do my goody-bags when I get home from school!".

That did it. I'm a goody-bag convert.

I Got a J-O-B!

Well, folks, I bit the bullet and applied for a job. That's right, a j-o-b.
I applied just before New Year's and, quite honestly, I was really not counting on being hired. But I wasn't even concerned about that; I felt I had overcome something just in applying. Moving out of a state of (writer's) inertia, as they say.
You see, I haven't worked in the field of my degree (English) since I was pregnant with my firstborn. It's been a very...long...time. Before children, I taught English as a Second Language and worked as an in-building substitute teacher. I've had the opportunity to work overseas and to work with business men and women, all desiring to speak English.
Michael and I went on our honeymoon and found out approximately three short weeks later that we were expecting. I took five classes that summer and five in the fall. I graduated in December at seven months along and Superboy was born in February. What a whirlwind!
All of that to say, life changed in an instant and it was quite intimidating to put myself out there again. I did, however, get an acceptance letter this week stating that I would be a good fit as a Special Needs columnist. I will be, Lord willing, writing two to three articles a week for an online publication.
As Inspector Gadget would say, "Wowzers, Penny!".

God Loves Me...Even Though I'm Not a Bible-Thumper

So, I was talking with a good friend tonight and hashing out some of the reasons why we self-deprecate. We fill our own minds with can'ts and shouldn'ts. Why?

I believe one reason is that it's what is socially acceptable. When is the last time you heard someone say, "I'm an awesome cook. I enjoy doing it and my family loves it too. It's something I'm really good at"? And is there anything wrong with that? My gut reaction is to say no, of course there is nothing wrong with that. And yet, if I heard someone actually speak those words, I would probably be taken aback with how forthcoming and confident they were about their talents.

And here is another reason--a reason that pulses with resonation for me: unless something is overt ministry, it is not good enough. If I am writing for a paper instead of teaching Sunday School, it is...okay. If I enjoy playing softball, well, that's great, but I really should be doing something a little more holy. Now, this may very well be a personal problem, but I think a lot of people who grew up in particular denominations suffer from it.

These are lies we are told from the time we are young. When we want to be professors and our mentors say, "Have you thought about teaching the Bible?". When we want to be world travelers and our mentors say, "What about missions?". I am not saying that to teach religion is bad or that people shouldn't be encouraged to be missionaries. I am saying, however, that different people are called to be different things. I am saying that each of us is given different talents and many times those talents do not fall within the realm of overt ministry. I am saying that I am tired of feeling badly about something I was never intended to feel badly about.

I often feel that my life as a stay-at-home mom doesn't quite measure up. In the eyes of many, I'm not doing anything super-great. I am raising three and half kids (I'm fourteen weeks along with number four!) and living a pretty mediocre life. I am not standing on street corners and passing out pamphlets that say, "God loves you". And while I think that deserves a pat on the back, I think what I'm doing is pretty cool too.

At age thirty-two, I am just beginning to grasp that what I'm doing is good enough. And not just good enough, it is what I was created for. And how could I ever feel badly about that?

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.