A Good Laugh

I was checking out a friend's Facebook page, perusing photos and came across ones from high school, some with me in them.  All of a sudden I became aware of a tightness in my chest!  No, not an impending heart attack, but an IMMATURITY attack: flashbacks of how I felt around this person as a teenager!  My insecurities, my mistakes, those small feelings I had back then...  sigh...  things I wish I had done differently, all came back!  Yikes!  Then came the "if onlies".  That is, "If only I had been more mature, more confident.  If only I had known myself better.  If only I had been ME (that is, the me I am today!)"

I quickly realized that these feelings rushed up because I wanted this person to like me because I always felt that that wasn't the case.

I took a breath and reminded myself that I am NOT that same insecure teenager anymore.  I am not silent nor a stranger to my own voice.  I do not need to be validated by others.  (Well, okay, yes, I do, but not like this and not by that person.) 

And the tightness went away and the laughter filled me up...along with the relief that I am me (and not who I was back then!).

As cliche and immature as having those old feelings and doubts rising up out of the blue may be, I am grateful for the experience.  Why?  Because I got a good laugh out of it, that's why.

Ha HAAAAAA!!!!!

And it's a good thing to laugh at oneself.

Bring on those pictures.  

I'm always up for a good laugh.  

How about you?

The Clock Is Not Ticking But Time Is Talking

How do you tell time?  Do you have something that ticks & tocks?  I rely on a number of time-telling devices...my car, my computer, my oven/stove, my new iPhone 4S (yay!), my watch.  None of these make clock-like noise.  They are all silent.  There is no rhythmic ticking by of seconds to keep me up at night or distract me while I'm on the computer or deep in thought.  But they keep me moving forward... they help get me out the door, encouraging me by showing I'm improving on not being late all the time, and humbling me by showing I'm not on time all the time, either.  These time-telling devices have transformed my routine and as a result, have made me a better person, I think.  

The most important time-telling device I have, though, is my body. 

This past year, my body has begun doing some funky, weird stuff.  I won't bombard you with details, really, but I'll give you an example.  It's stuff it's never done before.   Like all of a sudden, two weeks ago, I broke out in a terrible rash on the back of two fingers and parts on my wrist & other forearm which looked like I had a chemical burn of some sort (I did not) which was painful and itchy.  After a week of it not improving and, in fact, getting worse, I went to a dermatologist and was told I have eczema.  I have never had eczema in my life.  Why start now?

Specifics can be narrowed down to stress, an allergic reaction to something I either ate or was exposed to, hot water, and frequent hand-washing (got kids? got dishes?).  For me, though, as I look at the broader picture, I see something different.  It isn't that my body IS reacting to these things.  It's that my body is NOW reacting to these things.  What has changed?  I've had stress for years.  I haven't been allergic to anything as far as I'm aware.  My eating patterns haven't changed and I haven't been exposed to chemicals new to me - - they are ones I've used and to which I have never reacted.  I repeat, what's changed?

I'm OLDER.  My body is not ticking but it is TALKING.  It is telling me things are changing and I need to get with the program.  I can't do things the same way I've always done them because something in my body is going to rebel.  Be a night owl?  Nnnnnope.  Eat ice cream and not gain weight?  BIG FAT NOPE.  Lose weight without exercising?  Uh, no...  Spicy jalapeno chips?  Hello, heartburn!  I look at my new eczema and tell myself maybe I am NOW allergic to that which I wasn't allergic before.  Maybe my stress has caught up with me or at least now, my body is handling it differently.  Maybe now I truly need to pay more attention to what I put into my body because it needs to use everything more efficiently.

It's like when when I was a kid, I LOVED having a messy room because it was easier to take care of.  Having a messy room meant I didn't have to clean it.  It wasn't ideal but it worked for me.  It did NOT work for my mom, however, and I was always being yelled at to clean it up.  Now that I am a mom and I see my kids' messy room, it drives me nuts!  I tell them to clean it up and feel so relieved when it's clear and I can walk through there.  I've grown up.  The mess bothers me now. 

THAT'S how my BODY is.  The "mess" bothers it now, too.  It has grown up and now it wants to de-clutter!  My body is talking to me, telling me it's time to de-clutter what I put into it and how I schedule its calendar.  I need to sleep more, exercise more, laugh more, and eat less.  In other words, my body clock isn't ticking with sound, but it is TALKING loud and clear!

How about you?  Is your body telling you anything?

 

Parenting is a tough row to hoe.

I try to plant Respect, Kindness, Thoughtfulness, and Consideration as well as cultivate my children's individuality, independent thought and self-reliance.

It is sometimes like sowing in the rockiest earth imaginable with rocks left, right, & center.  I am forever needing to address typical childhood obstacles all the livelong day to get to the fertile ground. 

Part of my frustration of being a parent is not knowing whether or not my efforts will pay off, if I've made any difference...if anything I've planted will take root.  I won't know if I was a good farmer until my kids grow up and tell me if I was or not.  

The other night, I caught a glimpse of some of the goodness I have planted in my children and I was encouraged.

My sons & I were at my daughter's Girl Scout Brownie meeting and one of the Brownies was passing out cake.  She tripped and landed hard on the ground, cake flying off the plate, crumbs all around.  It sounded like she had hit her head on the concrete floor.  The scout's mom ran over to her and immediately comforted her (she was a little shaken for a few minutes but turned out to be fine, luckily, no head contact with the floor).  I went over, too, and started picking up the mess so no one would slip on it.  I scooped up what I could and took it over to the trash, detouring to get a paper towel wet. 

When I returned, I saw my 9 year old son already in my place, wiping up the crumbs and leftovers that needed cleaning, doing his best to help.

He just did it.  On his own. 

This snarky, smart-alecky, not-always-nice-to-his-siblings and oftentimes annoying-the-living-daylights-out-of-me-just-for-the-fun-of-it nine year-old who seemingly gets enjoyment in getting away with whatever he is able to...  surprised me... and filled me with pride...  and showed me that even the rockiest rows are fertile and can grow wonderful things.

I see the promise of a bumper crop in the future.