I know hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but I've never really felt the truth of that as strongly as when I read the Bible stories about the Israelites. If you're not familiar with the specific history I'm talking about, let me give you a quick synopsis. The Israelites were held captive by Egypt and forced into slavery for decades. Through all this time, they begged God to free them from the Egyptians, to get them out of slavery and into a place of their own. So what did God do? He freed them from the Egyptians...yet they hadn't even gotten to the end of their first day out of captivity when they started complaining about the obstacles in their way. God took care of that obstacle, and they stopped whining. Until the next day. God took care of that obstacle. They found something else to whine about the next day/week/month. For 80 years, they kept this up, one thing after another they found to complain about, over and over again.
I know there are an infinite number of lessons to be learned from their experiences, but I've been pondering it all from the perspective of "the present." In our society today, and in recent Western cultures, we are taught to live in the present, to be fully present in the moment in which you find yourself, to not worry about yesterday or tomorrow, just live for today. And there is so much truth to that, yes. But I've found there is also the danger, as there is with anything good, to go overboard and turn a good thing/concept into an out-of-balance bad thing.
For example, if you look at the Israelites from the perspective of living in the present...they didn't have the 20/20 aerial view of their lives that we do. They just lived fully in the present. They lived each day to the fullest they could...seemingly without any recollection of the recent past or the promises they'd been given for the future. This tunnel vision led them to make choices that basically plopped them right in the middle of feedback loop after feedback loop of similar situations as they kept refusing to learn from their previous go-arounds. So, the result? Two entire generations of people wasted their lives literally going in circles in the desert because they so firmly believed in living in the present.
When the third generation finally made it to the place of their own God had promised them almost 100 years prior, know what they did? When they crossed the Jordan River and entered the promised land, they set up enormous towers of rocks in the middle of the river bed. Why the heck do that? They anticipated that question from their children and their children's children..."what are those rocks doing out there in the middle of the river, Grandpa?" That third generation wanted a way to remind themselves of the past and of the future they almost didn't get to see so that they would always remember to live the present with gratitude and faith. Gratitude for what God had done for them every step along the way, and faith in what He committed to do in the future.
In order to live successfully in the present, the past and future must be taken into account.
As I look back over the last two years of the desert of my life, I am building my own rock towers. Since I don't have a river to build them in, I'm using my journal and Squish's journal, writing out in detail what God has done for us and leaving a legacy of faith for Squish that she can count on Him to be there for her every step of the way, in good or bad, light or darkness, clarity or complete confusion. He has proven Himself in every way to be faithful, even when we are faithless, stupid, stubborn or just plain scared out of our minds.
With that kind of legacy to hold onto from our past combined with faith in the Holder of the future, I believe we can both live fully and successfully in the present...today, no feedback loops needed.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
I FORGOT HOW MUCH I LOVE FOOD!!
So, you'd have to be living under a rock to not know about the book / movie Eat, Pray, Love, right? I am a fan.
And today, I think I started my own Eat phase of my journey. All my life food has been something special. My grandfather and father owned and built their own wholesale foodservice company, and my father was in the wholesale foodservice industry pretty much his entire career. So needless to say, food was a huge part of our lives. I was taught to value quality and to savor the artist's soul behind the amazing flavors, textures, presentation in various dishes. I was encouraged to branch out beyond American food and try ethnic dishes I'd never heard of, much less imagined the taste of. Everywhere we travelled, new food experiences were always on the agenda.
While the rest of my family has kept their new food adventures rather mild, I've been known to do some seemingly crazy things with my own new experiences. Ever tried smoked squid? With the suction cups still fully intact? Could only get one of those down. And for those Harry Potter fans out there, remember Berti Bott's Every Flavor Jelly Beans? World Market actually made those for awhile, and I just had to try them. My daughter, Erin, sat there in the living room watching my face as I tried them all...vomit, earthworm, ear wax, booger, dirt, etc. Albeit, the earthworm and dirt flavors didn't taste all that different, but the one that did me in was the soap. Oh wow. I've never had my mouth washed out with soap, and after tasting that jelly bean, I am so grateful!
Obviously, family meals were really important in my growing up years. We succeeded at having sit down dinners together most nights, but I think my favorite meal of the week was Sunday lunch. My grandpa Poppy would take us all out to Luby's cafeteria in Harlingen, TX. It became a 10+ year tradition, and each of us got the same thing almost every time. The opposite of adventurous, we each had found the perfect combination of flavors and wanted that specific feast each week for our special lunch. And in the past 14 years since I lived in Texas, every time I went back to visit, guess where I ate...yep, Luby's. And I got the same exact thing I got as a kid. And when I moved back last year, I went to Luby's with Squish and introduced her to the family tradition. In fact, the last meal my Dad and I ate before leaving Texas this week was at Luby's. One last time.
So...food is important in my family. And when I married my ex-husband, I lost a lot of that. Tom was not an adventurous eater. Didn't like to cook and saw eating a meal as a chore, a task, something to just get done. I see food and the cooking/preparing of a meal as art, as personal expression, as truly an adventure and a fun, rewarding challenge to do it well. But Tom's demand for the same plain old food day after day won out, and I lost that creative part of myself that loved to cook and experience great new things in the kitchen. Through the last two years of trying to survive, that part of me never really came back. When I was hungry, nothing new or fun ever came to mind, cooking was a chore that I just didn't have the energy to do. Or maybe I just didn't have the inspiration or passion to do.
But yesterday, as I'm driving through New Mexico on my way to Denver with Squish, she's watching one of my favorite cartoon movies...Chicken Little. And he says with such determination, "Today is a new day." That has been kind of echoing in my head since then, and today Mom took us to Whole Foods to pick up a couple things, and my new day took on a whole new meaning! As I walked through the deli area, I was literally stopped dead in my tracks by the Indian Food Bar - the smells coming off of it, the rich textures, the naan - I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. Into little containers went what used to be some of my favorite food on the planet! Then I found a fig/almond bread. Into the basket that went. And then strawberry rhubarb yogurt. And lobster bisque. And it just went on and on - $75 worth. I was horrified when I saw the total on the register. And then it hit me! This was the rebirth of that part of me that actually loves food, loves taste and texture, loves trying new things! I was coming back!!
So I gladly paid that $75 and sat down with Squish to an incredible meal of strangely mixed but oh so good things...I can't even describe how excited I was to care about food again! Squish devoured the naan, ate a half pint of strawberry rhubard yogurt but spit out all the Indian dishes. No worries. We'll get her there. This is a kid who loves guacamole, fried okra, steak and asparagus. She'll be a foody, no doubt. Especially now that her cooking Momma is back in the house!!! Woohoo!
And today, I think I started my own Eat phase of my journey. All my life food has been something special. My grandfather and father owned and built their own wholesale foodservice company, and my father was in the wholesale foodservice industry pretty much his entire career. So needless to say, food was a huge part of our lives. I was taught to value quality and to savor the artist's soul behind the amazing flavors, textures, presentation in various dishes. I was encouraged to branch out beyond American food and try ethnic dishes I'd never heard of, much less imagined the taste of. Everywhere we travelled, new food experiences were always on the agenda.
While the rest of my family has kept their new food adventures rather mild, I've been known to do some seemingly crazy things with my own new experiences. Ever tried smoked squid? With the suction cups still fully intact? Could only get one of those down. And for those Harry Potter fans out there, remember Berti Bott's Every Flavor Jelly Beans? World Market actually made those for awhile, and I just had to try them. My daughter, Erin, sat there in the living room watching my face as I tried them all...vomit, earthworm, ear wax, booger, dirt, etc. Albeit, the earthworm and dirt flavors didn't taste all that different, but the one that did me in was the soap. Oh wow. I've never had my mouth washed out with soap, and after tasting that jelly bean, I am so grateful!
Obviously, family meals were really important in my growing up years. We succeeded at having sit down dinners together most nights, but I think my favorite meal of the week was Sunday lunch. My grandpa Poppy would take us all out to Luby's cafeteria in Harlingen, TX. It became a 10+ year tradition, and each of us got the same thing almost every time. The opposite of adventurous, we each had found the perfect combination of flavors and wanted that specific feast each week for our special lunch. And in the past 14 years since I lived in Texas, every time I went back to visit, guess where I ate...yep, Luby's. And I got the same exact thing I got as a kid. And when I moved back last year, I went to Luby's with Squish and introduced her to the family tradition. In fact, the last meal my Dad and I ate before leaving Texas this week was at Luby's. One last time.
So...food is important in my family. And when I married my ex-husband, I lost a lot of that. Tom was not an adventurous eater. Didn't like to cook and saw eating a meal as a chore, a task, something to just get done. I see food and the cooking/preparing of a meal as art, as personal expression, as truly an adventure and a fun, rewarding challenge to do it well. But Tom's demand for the same plain old food day after day won out, and I lost that creative part of myself that loved to cook and experience great new things in the kitchen. Through the last two years of trying to survive, that part of me never really came back. When I was hungry, nothing new or fun ever came to mind, cooking was a chore that I just didn't have the energy to do. Or maybe I just didn't have the inspiration or passion to do.
But yesterday, as I'm driving through New Mexico on my way to Denver with Squish, she's watching one of my favorite cartoon movies...Chicken Little. And he says with such determination, "Today is a new day." That has been kind of echoing in my head since then, and today Mom took us to Whole Foods to pick up a couple things, and my new day took on a whole new meaning! As I walked through the deli area, I was literally stopped dead in my tracks by the Indian Food Bar - the smells coming off of it, the rich textures, the naan - I couldn't have stopped myself if I tried. Into little containers went what used to be some of my favorite food on the planet! Then I found a fig/almond bread. Into the basket that went. And then strawberry rhubarb yogurt. And lobster bisque. And it just went on and on - $75 worth. I was horrified when I saw the total on the register. And then it hit me! This was the rebirth of that part of me that actually loves food, loves taste and texture, loves trying new things! I was coming back!!
So I gladly paid that $75 and sat down with Squish to an incredible meal of strangely mixed but oh so good things...I can't even describe how excited I was to care about food again! Squish devoured the naan, ate a half pint of strawberry rhubard yogurt but spit out all the Indian dishes. No worries. We'll get her there. This is a kid who loves guacamole, fried okra, steak and asparagus. She'll be a foody, no doubt. Especially now that her cooking Momma is back in the house!!! Woohoo!
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Perfection
I remember in college, hearing that Alanis song..."if you're flawless, then you'll win my love...be a good boy, push a littler harder. Got to measure up to make us proud." And it felt like the anthem of my life up to that point - felt like she'd written it about me. Anything less than absolute perfection was met with punishment, anger, withdrawal of love, at least by my mom. I'm sure it wasn't 100% of the time, but I truly don't remember anything but.
That intense achievement drive and tireless effort to be perfect has put me in good standings as an employee...perfectionists can be counted on to work the hardest, turn out the best work, sacrifice whatever it takes to do the work well. The tragedy, or one of them, is that in a perfectionist's mind, the work is never done well enough. There's always more that could be done, always done better. I know. I am one. It's a constant feeling of being a failure, of expecting failure since some part of your big brain understands logically that there is no such thing as perfection so of course you're going to fail. But the other part of your illogical brain won't accept that reasoning because it believes it can be an exception to the rule of human-ness. It believes that somehow, it can achieve super-hero-ism. Somehow. Just try harder. Push more. Work faster. Take on more. Prove yourself more.
Well, that has been my life for 39 years give or take. I've lessened the maniacal demonstration of this perfectionist psychosis in myself as my logic has gotten stronger and my priorities have gotten straighter. But last weekend, I had a huge, lightning bolt moment of realization that has begun to change me from the inside out.
Up until then, here's kind of the running monologue going through my head:
Alarm goes off in the morning:
Damn it, don't turn the light in the bathroom on until you're dressed - you're an absolute fat cow! Who would ever want you or look at you twice? Much less yourself. Wow, I just have no clothes that fit me right now and I refuse to waste money on bigger sizes. Well, that means you're not going to look as professional as the role you are filling at the office...probably means you're going to lose your job or at least the respect of the people around you, definitely your direct reports. Okay, then just put whatever looks best on and get Squish up. The least you can do is get out the door on time today. Geesh, you're such a screw up.
On the way to work after dropping her off:
I forgot my water bottle and cashews. I am so hungry. Think I'll stop at Starbucks. I know I am a fat cow, but I just want something yummy in my day today whether it's a smile from someone, a hug, something. But I can at least control this kind of yummy. Dang it, I screwed up again and bought Starbucks instead of remembering my healthy breakfast! When will you get it straight, Amy!
As I go through my day...
I have no idea how to juggle all that's on my plate, all that's expected of me. In fact, it's still pretty fuzzy what is expected of me. I feel like it's all expected of me. So I guess I just need to work harder and faster. No matter what I do or don't do, someone is going to be ticked off, so I guess I'll have to choose the least dangerous person to tick off today. Gosh, I miss my Squish. I'm such a horrible mom. Drop her off at 6:45 and have run late the past two weeks picking her up. She's there for 11 hours a day! Someone else is raising my kid! How can that be okay? Wow, I'm a terrible mom. I hope she doesn't hate me someday. Oh, sure - I'll take those five more things on today for you, no problem. I'll just work at home after Squish goes to bed...
After Squish goes to bed...
Brain. Mush. Can't think anymore. I can't do that work I committed to. I'm a terrible employee. My boss must be so disappointed. Where can I squeeze some additional time out of tomorrow to get it done? Oh, and yeah, this is the second month's membership you've paid to the gym and you haven't set foot in it yet. You just suck, Amy. At everything. Is there anything in your life you're not a failure at? You really should care more about your health so you're here for Squish longer. And what are all your friends going to think when they see you at Annual Meeting this way? You're going to make a really bad impression. And you didn't walk the dog either! Not only are you a terrible mother, you're a terrible dog owner too.
__________________________________________________________
So, last weekend, I'm feeling all this - the weight of the world on my shoulders, almost physically paralyzed by exhaustion in every way possible. Feeling like a failure at every turn.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...how dare I be so arrogant! I know...you are probably thinking that all that crap I wrote up there sounded like anything but an arrogant person. Oh, but you are so wrong.
The arrogance lies in the belief that being perfect is even remotely possible!! And for me, trying to be such a perfectionist... trying to be everything to everyone the exact way they need me to be every single time without fail...it's the absolute height of arrogance. Who am I to have a chance in hell of being anywhere near perfect at anything? I am human. It is literally impossible for me, as a human, to have all the answers, to do and say all the right things, to be the right kind of mom /employee /daughter /sister /boss / friend...you name it...every time. Can't happen. In every way impossible.
That moment set me free. Truly set me free. I have given up, and it feels amazing. I have no ego any longer. Nothing to defend or prove. I know nothing. Am good at nothing. I am just a sponge wanting to learn, grow and do my best...and I finally get it that my best is good enough.
The exhaustion of trying to be perfect was ruining me. I was losing myself in the chaos and drainage of the impossible. But now, I can gracefully and joyfully be that still small voice at the end of the day that says, "I will try again tomorrow." I will continue to become better at who I am, what I do, the example I leave for others. And the fact that I am not perfect will no longer be the damning, accusing, judgment I used to view it as. It will now be the peaceful, content acknowledgement that yes, in fact, I am human and that I choose to continually keep growing into the best one of those I can be in all aspects.
So to my fellow first-child, Type A, driven perfectionists out there who never feel you can be good enough, I hope beyond all I can express that you find freedom as well. It is a beautiful place to be...
That intense achievement drive and tireless effort to be perfect has put me in good standings as an employee...perfectionists can be counted on to work the hardest, turn out the best work, sacrifice whatever it takes to do the work well. The tragedy, or one of them, is that in a perfectionist's mind, the work is never done well enough. There's always more that could be done, always done better. I know. I am one. It's a constant feeling of being a failure, of expecting failure since some part of your big brain understands logically that there is no such thing as perfection so of course you're going to fail. But the other part of your illogical brain won't accept that reasoning because it believes it can be an exception to the rule of human-ness. It believes that somehow, it can achieve super-hero-ism. Somehow. Just try harder. Push more. Work faster. Take on more. Prove yourself more.
Well, that has been my life for 39 years give or take. I've lessened the maniacal demonstration of this perfectionist psychosis in myself as my logic has gotten stronger and my priorities have gotten straighter. But last weekend, I had a huge, lightning bolt moment of realization that has begun to change me from the inside out.
Up until then, here's kind of the running monologue going through my head:
Alarm goes off in the morning:
Damn it, don't turn the light in the bathroom on until you're dressed - you're an absolute fat cow! Who would ever want you or look at you twice? Much less yourself. Wow, I just have no clothes that fit me right now and I refuse to waste money on bigger sizes. Well, that means you're not going to look as professional as the role you are filling at the office...probably means you're going to lose your job or at least the respect of the people around you, definitely your direct reports. Okay, then just put whatever looks best on and get Squish up. The least you can do is get out the door on time today. Geesh, you're such a screw up.
On the way to work after dropping her off:
I forgot my water bottle and cashews. I am so hungry. Think I'll stop at Starbucks. I know I am a fat cow, but I just want something yummy in my day today whether it's a smile from someone, a hug, something. But I can at least control this kind of yummy. Dang it, I screwed up again and bought Starbucks instead of remembering my healthy breakfast! When will you get it straight, Amy!
As I go through my day...
I have no idea how to juggle all that's on my plate, all that's expected of me. In fact, it's still pretty fuzzy what is expected of me. I feel like it's all expected of me. So I guess I just need to work harder and faster. No matter what I do or don't do, someone is going to be ticked off, so I guess I'll have to choose the least dangerous person to tick off today. Gosh, I miss my Squish. I'm such a horrible mom. Drop her off at 6:45 and have run late the past two weeks picking her up. She's there for 11 hours a day! Someone else is raising my kid! How can that be okay? Wow, I'm a terrible mom. I hope she doesn't hate me someday. Oh, sure - I'll take those five more things on today for you, no problem. I'll just work at home after Squish goes to bed...
After Squish goes to bed...
Brain. Mush. Can't think anymore. I can't do that work I committed to. I'm a terrible employee. My boss must be so disappointed. Where can I squeeze some additional time out of tomorrow to get it done? Oh, and yeah, this is the second month's membership you've paid to the gym and you haven't set foot in it yet. You just suck, Amy. At everything. Is there anything in your life you're not a failure at? You really should care more about your health so you're here for Squish longer. And what are all your friends going to think when they see you at Annual Meeting this way? You're going to make a really bad impression. And you didn't walk the dog either! Not only are you a terrible mother, you're a terrible dog owner too.
__________________________________________________________
So, last weekend, I'm feeling all this - the weight of the world on my shoulders, almost physically paralyzed by exhaustion in every way possible. Feeling like a failure at every turn.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks...how dare I be so arrogant! I know...you are probably thinking that all that crap I wrote up there sounded like anything but an arrogant person. Oh, but you are so wrong.
The arrogance lies in the belief that being perfect is even remotely possible!! And for me, trying to be such a perfectionist... trying to be everything to everyone the exact way they need me to be every single time without fail...it's the absolute height of arrogance. Who am I to have a chance in hell of being anywhere near perfect at anything? I am human. It is literally impossible for me, as a human, to have all the answers, to do and say all the right things, to be the right kind of mom /employee /daughter /sister /boss / friend...you name it...every time. Can't happen. In every way impossible.
That moment set me free. Truly set me free. I have given up, and it feels amazing. I have no ego any longer. Nothing to defend or prove. I know nothing. Am good at nothing. I am just a sponge wanting to learn, grow and do my best...and I finally get it that my best is good enough.
The exhaustion of trying to be perfect was ruining me. I was losing myself in the chaos and drainage of the impossible. But now, I can gracefully and joyfully be that still small voice at the end of the day that says, "I will try again tomorrow." I will continue to become better at who I am, what I do, the example I leave for others. And the fact that I am not perfect will no longer be the damning, accusing, judgment I used to view it as. It will now be the peaceful, content acknowledgement that yes, in fact, I am human and that I choose to continually keep growing into the best one of those I can be in all aspects.
So to my fellow first-child, Type A, driven perfectionists out there who never feel you can be good enough, I hope beyond all I can express that you find freedom as well. It is a beautiful place to be...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Cultivate Muchness
For some reason I have never watched Alice in Wonderland, at least not all the way through. Couldn't get past the creepiness of the versions that have existed during my lifetime. Never read the book either, which seems a bit strange to me as I love whimiscal fantasy.
But that's neither here nor there. What IS here and there, however, lies in the beautiful fact that the profound truths within the story were weaved into my sisters and I during our formative years, intentionally or unintentionally, by both our parents and my Dad's parents as well. Watching the Johnny Depp version of Alice this weekend was a very special experience. It reminded me of the investments my parents and grandparents made in the breadth and depth of who I am. They invested in my imagination, my belief in myself, my sense of wonder, my wanderlust, the "uniqueness of me," and so much more. They gave me a gift of believing that I could do whatever I put my mind and effort to, that there were no limits except in my own fear, that I was resilient and strong and could weather adversity without breaking.
I remember so many special times growing up - quilt forts over the dining room table, slumber parties in the living room with just the five of us, lemonade stands made out of refrigerator boxes, stealth warfare in the middle of the night with flour bombs and water guns, collecting fireflies and web-worms, snow angels in the middle of Colorado fields of unbroken whiteness, hot chocolate up on the roof in the winter under crystal shooting stars, the Nutcracker ballet every year, singing entire albums on endless road trips, peach Slurpees, the smell of Sex Wax and salt water, cabbage-head jellyfish and man-o'-wars on the ocean, the thick scent of firewood and snow layered over the sounds of rhythmic harness bells in a muted forest, summer-long trips through our amazing country in a fifth-wheel, hiking through enchanted forests where an elf appearing next to me would have seemed commonplace...
I guess that is why I'm still a 7-year old in a 39-year old's body. Because the people who loved me most made sure my muchness had the chance to take root and grow, thrive. And while it's now my responsibility to keep it growing and thriving, I owe them so much for the great start they gave me.
There've been a couple times lately when Poppy and I have been out in public, and she falls down or has difficulty doing something on her own, or we simply decide to have a lively hysterical moment to ourselves. And I've caught the horrified or judgmental or "wow, that woman is crazy" looks on people's faces around us when I don't pick Poppy up or don't help her out or act goofier than she is acting. I can hear the "what a terrible mom" thoughts aimed in my direction, loud and clear.
But what they don't get is that my number one job is to cultivate the muchness of my child in every way possible. To help her explore and discover who she is and what she is capable of. To equip her with strength, compassion, ingenuity, intuition, creativity, generosity and so much more I already see blossoming inside her. It is my job to give her permission to be who she is and to help her rise to the grand occasion that is her life.
As Dad and I were watching Alice this weekend, I looked at him and said, "You know, you've got three incredible grandchildren who all have a ton of muchness." He responded, "They do, and you need to make sure you keep it that way." I replied, "I think I can speak for Martha as well as myself when I say that we both believe our main job as mothers is to do just that...to cultivate the muchness of our kids."
It was a brief moment in time, but one that echoed for me through many decades in the past and through many decades still to come. It was a statement of unity, of purpose, of shared vision and belief that was passed down to my sisters and I from three generations of muchness-embracing parents who gave that gift to their own children and grandchildren. And now it's my and my sister's turn to continue the tradition with Poppy Anne, Trinity and Vincent - to keep the spark alive.
And tomorrow, like any other day, I will help my Squish believe at least six impossible things before breakfast...
But that's neither here nor there. What IS here and there, however, lies in the beautiful fact that the profound truths within the story were weaved into my sisters and I during our formative years, intentionally or unintentionally, by both our parents and my Dad's parents as well. Watching the Johnny Depp version of Alice this weekend was a very special experience. It reminded me of the investments my parents and grandparents made in the breadth and depth of who I am. They invested in my imagination, my belief in myself, my sense of wonder, my wanderlust, the "uniqueness of me," and so much more. They gave me a gift of believing that I could do whatever I put my mind and effort to, that there were no limits except in my own fear, that I was resilient and strong and could weather adversity without breaking.
I remember so many special times growing up - quilt forts over the dining room table, slumber parties in the living room with just the five of us, lemonade stands made out of refrigerator boxes, stealth warfare in the middle of the night with flour bombs and water guns, collecting fireflies and web-worms, snow angels in the middle of Colorado fields of unbroken whiteness, hot chocolate up on the roof in the winter under crystal shooting stars, the Nutcracker ballet every year, singing entire albums on endless road trips, peach Slurpees, the smell of Sex Wax and salt water, cabbage-head jellyfish and man-o'-wars on the ocean, the thick scent of firewood and snow layered over the sounds of rhythmic harness bells in a muted forest, summer-long trips through our amazing country in a fifth-wheel, hiking through enchanted forests where an elf appearing next to me would have seemed commonplace...
I guess that is why I'm still a 7-year old in a 39-year old's body. Because the people who loved me most made sure my muchness had the chance to take root and grow, thrive. And while it's now my responsibility to keep it growing and thriving, I owe them so much for the great start they gave me.
There've been a couple times lately when Poppy and I have been out in public, and she falls down or has difficulty doing something on her own, or we simply decide to have a lively hysterical moment to ourselves. And I've caught the horrified or judgmental or "wow, that woman is crazy" looks on people's faces around us when I don't pick Poppy up or don't help her out or act goofier than she is acting. I can hear the "what a terrible mom" thoughts aimed in my direction, loud and clear.
But what they don't get is that my number one job is to cultivate the muchness of my child in every way possible. To help her explore and discover who she is and what she is capable of. To equip her with strength, compassion, ingenuity, intuition, creativity, generosity and so much more I already see blossoming inside her. It is my job to give her permission to be who she is and to help her rise to the grand occasion that is her life.
As Dad and I were watching Alice this weekend, I looked at him and said, "You know, you've got three incredible grandchildren who all have a ton of muchness." He responded, "They do, and you need to make sure you keep it that way." I replied, "I think I can speak for Martha as well as myself when I say that we both believe our main job as mothers is to do just that...to cultivate the muchness of our kids."
It was a brief moment in time, but one that echoed for me through many decades in the past and through many decades still to come. It was a statement of unity, of purpose, of shared vision and belief that was passed down to my sisters and I from three generations of muchness-embracing parents who gave that gift to their own children and grandchildren. And now it's my and my sister's turn to continue the tradition with Poppy Anne, Trinity and Vincent - to keep the spark alive.
And tomorrow, like any other day, I will help my Squish believe at least six impossible things before breakfast...
Friday, February 24, 2012
Fighting for our kids...
Some of you may know or guess at parts of my story from reading various blog entries over the past 6 months. I thought for a time that my situation was a far-fetched, rare thing, but I have since discovered that it is absolutely not. It is sickeningly common. Besids me, I personally know three more women fighting to protect their kids from physically, sexually, or emotionally/mentally abusive fathers.
In the past few months, I've been repeatedly asked to start sharing how I fought for my daughter, what I tactically did to survive and win. I've talked with Erin about it, and she and I are both in agreement that it's time for me to do that. Not to throw dirt on her and Poppy's father, but to possibly give hope and tangible steps to others who may be going through the same or similar things.
So here goes - if you know of anyone in your world who this might help in some way, please don't hesitate to share it with them.
How to Fight for Your Children
(assuming courts, legal processes, unwilling other parties, etc. are involved):
In the past few months, I've been repeatedly asked to start sharing how I fought for my daughter, what I tactically did to survive and win. I've talked with Erin about it, and she and I are both in agreement that it's time for me to do that. Not to throw dirt on her and Poppy's father, but to possibly give hope and tangible steps to others who may be going through the same or similar things.
So here goes - if you know of anyone in your world who this might help in some way, please don't hesitate to share it with them.
How to Fight for Your Children
(assuming courts, legal processes, unwilling other parties, etc. are involved):
1. Realize you are in a battle far bigger than what you can see and touch here in plain sight. Innocence is one of the most precious, invaluable gifts, and it's being threatened in our children. Don't let your guard down, don't believe you're crazy...no matter what legal authority, friend, family member or colleague tells you otherwise.
2. You know your child better than any human on the planet ever will - and she needs you to protect her and believe / believe in her. Her self-esteem, innocence, sanity and so much more is at stake here. You are her second line of defense.
3. Your and her first line of defense is God. He cares about her FAR MORE than you do or ever possibly could. And no matter what happens, no matter what is done to her or to you, He is there to carry you both through it - if you're willing to let Him without getting bitter over the fact of the situation itself.
4. It's okay to be afraid - we are human. One of my favorite quotes is, "Courage is not the absence of fear. It's about knowing and doing what is more important than your fear." Have courage - keep putting one foot in front of the other and doing everything you know to do, day in and day out.
5. Have a plan and stick to it. Know absolutely in your own mind what you want the outcome of this situation to be - is it supervised visitation only until she's a teenager and then she gets to decide? Whatever the outcome you want is, get it fixed in your sights and then stick to that plan and don't back down. Make sure it is clear to your attorney and that your attorney keeps that goal as the focal point of any strategy he or she takes. Don't settle for anything less than the best interest of your child. (Something that was pivotal for me was understanding the root motivations driving her father's actions. Money and control. If you can understand those motivations and play to them or call his bluff, it can be very helpful.)
6. Don't bash her father. Most courts look very badly on that kind of behavior. State the facts with as little emotion as possible whenever you're in the presence of court officials, guardians, etc. Stick to those facts. The typical child services position is that it's in the child's best interest to have her father in her life - and in my experience, they can't see past that one tenant, often to the detriment of the child in question. So figure out how can you work within those parameters so that you are being a team player but still protecting your daugther? My tactic was to fight for supervised visitation so that if she was forced to be in his presence, she would at least be physically safe.
7. Stand up for your rights as her mother - those rights are powerful and are equal to the rights of her father. Stand up for your right to agree to or disagree to the choice of supervisor, psychiatrist, psychologist, etc.
8. Have your emotional breakdowns behind closed doors, ONLY with people you trust with your life. Everything you do and say can be used against you by her father, his attorney, the guardian, the courts, etc., so always keep that in mind. This was one of the best things my attorney did for me - told me how I should act, how I should dress, what attitude I should show or keep to myself to ensure I didn't turn the guardians or court officials against me. Invaluable help and advice. It's already a massive struggle to get these people to focus on the well-being of your child - turning them against you personally can only make that struggle even worse.
9. Create a place of safety, joy and rest for your child in your home and in your presence. Be her safe place and do it very proactively. She may need different ways of you showing it than she did before, higher levels of understanding and patience, more Mommy time. Even if you can't control the situation overall, you can control that.
10. And when you have done all you can do to stand firm...then stand. (Bible verse) Don't worry yourself sick about the things you cannot control. Keep to your plan, keep stating the truth, keeping taking every single action you can take to protect her. But then rest before doing the next thing.
11. Take time to recharge yourself. The best Mom you can be for her is a strong, confident one. You will spend every ounce of everything in you in this fight, day after day. You will find yourself so exhausted in every particle of your being some days that the thought of giving up and ending the madness will sound like sweet relief. But don't you dare. You can't give up on your kid - can't face her one day and admit you didn't fight for her in every possible way. So find ways to give back to yourself so that you can keep on going, keep on fighting. I got massages, took a lot of hot showers, ate out at relaxing places, read books, listened to a lot of music while doing relaxation breathing. Find a way to not give up out of sheer and utter exhaustion.
12. Pack a get away bag with clothes, money, legal papers, all your documentation and court records, etc. just in case. I know - sounds paranoid, huh? Doesn't sound paranoid to those who've had it come in handy.
13. And do a ton of praying. Get every person you know who believes in the power of prayer to start praying and to keep praying.
14. And keep telling your daughter she is precious to you. Keep telling her she is the most important person to you on the planet, but remind her that God loves her more than even Mommy does.
And lastly, in the words of Winston Churchill, standing in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds..."Never, never, never give up."
Monday, February 13, 2012
Love Language
From the minute Poppy Anne was born, she was smiling. Literally. Just fascinated with the world around her. From even her first days on the planet, she just exuded joy and an adventurous spirit, smiling at everything and everyone, fascinated by just about anything. It was almost like she feels it her job to light up anyone's face she passes wherever we go. Very rarely cries or gets upset. Super laid back kid.
So four weeks ago when some alien invasion replaced my sweet happy child with a screaming rage-monster, I was really thrown for a loop. At first I thought these temper tantrums were just "normal" - she'd slap me across the face with all her strength, scream at me if I told her no, etc. But then a couple weeks into this rage stage, she did this for almost 3 hours - hitting me, kicking me, slapping me, screaming at me. And then the next night she did it for another 90 minutes or so. I was just floored.
A few more days of intermittent episodes like this and I was at my wits end. I had no idea what to do or how to help her, but I knew something was not normal, that I was missing some critical fact or need in my child. So I got on the phone with my sister and started telling her all that had been happening. She's got two kids and has been through a lot with them, and on top of that, she's just a wise, intuitive person with great instincts. As we talked, she said something that absolutely blew me away in its simplicity. She said, "It sounds like Poppy's love language is quality time."
I cannot express the relief and excitement I felt as that truth rang an enormous bell in my heart and head! My love language is NOT quality time, so I was giving her all the words of affirmation and all the physical touch I could load her up with, but I was not speaking her love language.
Up until about four weeks ago, every night we came home from school and work, I would devote all my time to just her until she went to bed. But I read some child raising book that said not to do that - that you should integrate your kid into the evening schedule and not give them any special treatment, etc. So I'd been trying to abide by that at night. No wonder she started throwing fits - what I was telling the most precious person in my life was that Mommy didn't love her because I wasn't giving her quality Mommy & Poppy time.
Needless to say, the very next night I went back to our old way of doing things, and guess what - it's been a week and not a single tantrum, lots of sleeping thru the night going on these days, and a ton more smiling and exploring her world again with that sweet open and loving attitude.
It is just incredible to see these little people grow into themselves - and what an honor to help them and affirm them as they do.
So four weeks ago when some alien invasion replaced my sweet happy child with a screaming rage-monster, I was really thrown for a loop. At first I thought these temper tantrums were just "normal" - she'd slap me across the face with all her strength, scream at me if I told her no, etc. But then a couple weeks into this rage stage, she did this for almost 3 hours - hitting me, kicking me, slapping me, screaming at me. And then the next night she did it for another 90 minutes or so. I was just floored.
A few more days of intermittent episodes like this and I was at my wits end. I had no idea what to do or how to help her, but I knew something was not normal, that I was missing some critical fact or need in my child. So I got on the phone with my sister and started telling her all that had been happening. She's got two kids and has been through a lot with them, and on top of that, she's just a wise, intuitive person with great instincts. As we talked, she said something that absolutely blew me away in its simplicity. She said, "It sounds like Poppy's love language is quality time."
I cannot express the relief and excitement I felt as that truth rang an enormous bell in my heart and head! My love language is NOT quality time, so I was giving her all the words of affirmation and all the physical touch I could load her up with, but I was not speaking her love language.
Up until about four weeks ago, every night we came home from school and work, I would devote all my time to just her until she went to bed. But I read some child raising book that said not to do that - that you should integrate your kid into the evening schedule and not give them any special treatment, etc. So I'd been trying to abide by that at night. No wonder she started throwing fits - what I was telling the most precious person in my life was that Mommy didn't love her because I wasn't giving her quality Mommy & Poppy time.
Needless to say, the very next night I went back to our old way of doing things, and guess what - it's been a week and not a single tantrum, lots of sleeping thru the night going on these days, and a ton more smiling and exploring her world again with that sweet open and loving attitude.
It is just incredible to see these little people grow into themselves - and what an honor to help them and affirm them as they do.
Friday, January 27, 2012
My cup overflows...
I can hardly believe it's been two months since I've sat down to write - how time flies. There are reasons for my absence. You see I have to be alone to really write what's on my heart, and I rarely get alone time anymore - not necessarily a bad thing. It's just what life happens to be at this time.
But tonight, I have some alone time, so here I am.
I'm struggling with exactly how to phrase what's in my heart/head right now, but maybe it will untangle itself as I write? We'll give it a shot.
December was a very, very difficult month. Was extremely sick for about three weeks, spent Christmas alone, had the weight of the world on my shoulders at work, missed my grandfather more than I could handle most days. And for me, being that down is a very rare and unwelcome thing. If I'm sick for more than 2 days, I start losing all logical/rational perspective and my abundance mentality just disappears. All I can see are the dark, endless tunnels in every direction with no light in sight. And that is SO not who I am normally. January 3 was my last vacation day before returning to work on the 4th, and I had absolutely nothing left to give anyone, much less my job - but my rational brain knew this, knew I was in a sick-induced negative haze - and yet, I couldn't get out of it. At least not immediately. 17 days of feeling like the leftovers of a Mac truck/roadkill encounter can beat the best of us. Took me another week to starting getting back to my old self, and gollygeewillikers (one of my boss's favorite phrases), I'm really glad to have me back!
Tonight I was driving home...with the sunroof down...the incredible Texas night sky & stars above me...the 60-degree wind blowing in the windows...and music blaring as loud as I could handle it...singing at the top of my lungs...
My abundance mentality self came roaring back to life in all its glory. I finally was able to get my perspective back and remember...
I get to get up and go do a job I love every day - a job that uses just about every part of what God put in me. My baby girl is safe and healthy and turned one year old on Saturday. And on top of that little miracle, we didn't have to celebrate her birthday alone like we did Christmas. My dad, sister, niece and nephew were here, and we partied right! It was Poppy's first real experience with sugar, and she revelled in it in true Stauss fashion. We then headed to Medieval Times that night where my sister's lifelong (and unfulfilled dream) of catching a flower thrown by one of the knights actually came true when my niece caught one instead. None of us will ever forget how her face glowed for the rest of the evening...well, both their faces glowed for the rest of the evening - my sister's and my niece's. Priceless.
Erin bought her first car, started night classes and has decided she's going to med school for anesthesiology.
I finished 2011 with my CLU and got invited to an exclusive women's leadership conference in February.
Squish learned how to say and sign "more" - and how to flush the toilet (can't wait to see what my water bill's going to be this month!)
Three wonderful women I know are fighting the fight of their life - trying to keep their children safe from those children's fathers. Doesn't sound very positive, does it? And yet, I celebrate that they want to fight and keep fighting no matter what it costs them. I've been there - I've had absolutely nothing left physically, emotionally, financially, mentally. No hope left. But that's what good moms do - they keep fighting anyway. When I think of these three women, I am reminded of a song I've been listening to a lot lately:
But tonight, I have some alone time, so here I am.
I'm struggling with exactly how to phrase what's in my heart/head right now, but maybe it will untangle itself as I write? We'll give it a shot.
December was a very, very difficult month. Was extremely sick for about three weeks, spent Christmas alone, had the weight of the world on my shoulders at work, missed my grandfather more than I could handle most days. And for me, being that down is a very rare and unwelcome thing. If I'm sick for more than 2 days, I start losing all logical/rational perspective and my abundance mentality just disappears. All I can see are the dark, endless tunnels in every direction with no light in sight. And that is SO not who I am normally. January 3 was my last vacation day before returning to work on the 4th, and I had absolutely nothing left to give anyone, much less my job - but my rational brain knew this, knew I was in a sick-induced negative haze - and yet, I couldn't get out of it. At least not immediately. 17 days of feeling like the leftovers of a Mac truck/roadkill encounter can beat the best of us. Took me another week to starting getting back to my old self, and gollygeewillikers (one of my boss's favorite phrases), I'm really glad to have me back!
Tonight I was driving home...with the sunroof down...the incredible Texas night sky & stars above me...the 60-degree wind blowing in the windows...and music blaring as loud as I could handle it...singing at the top of my lungs...
My abundance mentality self came roaring back to life in all its glory. I finally was able to get my perspective back and remember...
I get to get up and go do a job I love every day - a job that uses just about every part of what God put in me. My baby girl is safe and healthy and turned one year old on Saturday. And on top of that little miracle, we didn't have to celebrate her birthday alone like we did Christmas. My dad, sister, niece and nephew were here, and we partied right! It was Poppy's first real experience with sugar, and she revelled in it in true Stauss fashion. We then headed to Medieval Times that night where my sister's lifelong (and unfulfilled dream) of catching a flower thrown by one of the knights actually came true when my niece caught one instead. None of us will ever forget how her face glowed for the rest of the evening...well, both their faces glowed for the rest of the evening - my sister's and my niece's. Priceless.
Erin bought her first car, started night classes and has decided she's going to med school for anesthesiology.
I finished 2011 with my CLU and got invited to an exclusive women's leadership conference in February.
Squish learned how to say and sign "more" - and how to flush the toilet (can't wait to see what my water bill's going to be this month!)
Three wonderful women I know are fighting the fight of their life - trying to keep their children safe from those children's fathers. Doesn't sound very positive, does it? And yet, I celebrate that they want to fight and keep fighting no matter what it costs them. I've been there - I've had absolutely nothing left physically, emotionally, financially, mentally. No hope left. But that's what good moms do - they keep fighting anyway. When I think of these three women, I am reminded of a song I've been listening to a lot lately:
"This is my prayer in the desert,
When all that's within me feels dry.
This is my prayer in my hunger and need -
My God is a God who provides.
This is my prayer in the battle,
WHEN TRIUMPH IS STILL ON ITS WAY...
All of my life, in every season,
You are still God
And I have a reason to sing."
______________________________
A story for you...
Those of you who know me well know that I cannot handle anything related to abandoned or hurt dogs - just undoes me. Well, when I first started driving to work here every day, I began noticing there were a lot of stray dogs and cats in the neighborhoods I had to drive through. My coping mechanism of hiding my head in the sand to avoid the pain of seeing all these dogs I couldn't help kicked in, and for weeks I drove with my eyes straight ahead so I wouldn't see any of it.
Then one day it dawned on me that I never saw any of these dogs in the road hurt, killed etc. - ever. That really surprised me, since this roadway is a major one. So I cautiously started observing more closely what was actually happening with these animals. And I began to notice they were usually in groups every morning...and these groups were in roughly the same places every time. I also started noticing these animals were not mangy or starving or anything of the kind - the large marjority of them were healthy and appeared cared for.
After more days of observing, I noticed they were grouped each morning around piles of something...cats with cats (and an occasional racoon), dogs with dogs. So I drove by really slow one day and realized they were gathered around piles of food on the sidewalks or parking lots! Where the heck did that come from? Never could figure out how miles of road had all these piles of dog and cat food laid out every morning.
Then one morning I found my answer. I saw a big black SUV distributing food up and down the road to each group of animals. I wouldn't have even noticed except that I saw a cat on the side of the road sit completely still watching this oncoming SUV without fear or wariness. It struck me as a very odd thing for a cat to do, so I kept watching as I drove by. The driver door opened and a hand poured cat food on the ground in front of the cat. And then did it again and again and again for miles until all the groups were fed.
I was so profoundly touched by this act of anonymous kindness I was speechless the rest of the way to the office.
It was a welcome reminder to me that no matter how bad a situation feels or looks, there is always something to be grateful for, there is always something you can control (even if it is only your own attitude about the situation), and when you've about given up on the world, on people, on yourself...someone will surprise you in a good way...IF you're willing to open your eyes/ears/heart and receive it.
Now every morning when I see those little feasts going on, I smile and thank whoever that person is for being an abundance mentality thinker and doing what they can do in their small part of the world to let the sunshine in. If they ever stop feeding the wildlife, maybe I'll take their place. :-)
"After a bad storm had washed thousands of starfish onto the beach, a passerby saw a lone man tossing starfish back into the ocean, one at a time. The passerby asked the man why he even bothered trying to make a difference on this beach, as there were far too many starfish to even dream of saving them all. The man picked up another starfish, tossed it in the ocean and calmly said to the passerby, 'I made a difference to that one.'"
I want others to be better off because I woke up this morning, and every morning. I want to make a difference to the starfish in my circle of influence, on the beach of my life. But I can't when I lose sight of who I am and of the good in the world at every turn.
Here's to seeking out the light in the dark, the silver in the storm clouds, the rainbow in the rain, the warmth beneath the cold, hope beneath the despair, courage behind the fear, joy behind the tears. Never, never, never give up...
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