Reading backwards seven years

I've just spent the morning re-reading random posts from this blog. The first post was over 7 years old. The most recent, only days ago.

Seven years is a big deal in a lot of religions. Heck, just the number seven is important. Big spiritual mojo. So have these past seven years of scribbling my thoughts on a blog taught me anything?

At first, I didn't think so. So many mistakes made over and over. So many false starts and plans-that-didn't-work-out. But the more I read, the more I saw some things I have learned -- and probably need to remember.

1) Love is never wasted. Even when it didn't work out and a friend betrayed you or someone never said thank you for the big thing you did for them or a lover walked away, loving is never a waste of energy. You can never know if your love at that moment changed a life (yours or theirs or even someone else's) for the better. The impact might not show up for years...and you might never know. But it's still worth it.

2) We all have a place that screams "home" to us. It might be where you were born or grew up. Or it might be that town you stumbled on when your car broke down. But there is something in a a place that latches on to your soul and says "You belong."  Pay attention. It matters. (Over a lifetime, that "home" spot can change, as our lives change and our souls grow. Just keep listening. You'll know when you find it. And when it's time to find a new one.)

3) Being a mom is sonmething you do with every part of your being. When it's done with a loving heart, it's not a job, it's not a chore -- it's a form of existing that digs down deep into every cell of your body and changes each and every one for the better.)  Sometimes it makes me smile, sometimes it makes me scream, and sometimes it makes me cry. But I love being a mom with every ounce of my being.

4) Sometimes, what doesn't kill you, doesn't make you stronger. It beats the living heck out of you and leaves you weak and broken and crying on the ground. And even when you do manage to get back on your feet, you're missing chunks of yourself that you would love to have back. But you can't, so you live with the scars and the limp and the nightmares because you have no other choice. Congratulate yourself for every step. It's hard work.

5) There is a heck of a lot more to life that any of us can ever see. It's more than the birth-to-death march (or crawl or sprint.) It's more than the houses and jobs and traffic jams and what-to-wear. There is a meaning and a purpose behind it all, and something that goes on before we appear on the scene and after we make our final curtain call. And not one of us really knows what it is, no matter what book we swear on. We're all just guessing.

6) Most people are pretty good, overall. Even when they act like jerks, most of them have someone they love, something selfless they've done, some wonderful dream they would like to see come true for someone, some great idea or some creative spark just waiting to burst forth. But because of fear or pain or desperate need or getting knocked down one time too many (see number 4 above), they protect their soft inner core by acting like cold-hearted idiots. Doesn't mean you have to trust them or let them hurt you. Just means you have to know that spark is there, inside of them. It makes a difference for both of you.

7) Food doesn't solve everything. But it helps a heck of a lot. Sitting down with someone over a meal or a cup of tea can make more connections, solve more problems and cement more friendships that anything else on the planet. Forget the meeting in the board room. If you really want to get things done, head out for some tacos or a big cheesey pizza together. It sounds weird, but it works.

So there, in a nutshell, are my seven lessons from seven years. Nothing earth-shattering. But maybe not too bad for seven years of on-again, off-again scribbles.

More lessons? Hindsight is better than 20/20. Here's my advice to my 21 year-old self. Sure wish I could hop on that time machine and share it!

Trying to get it all under control

Yeah, I said "ALL". Because I'm crazy like that.

Every once in awhile, I get this insane idea that with the right organizational tools, the right plan, the right schedule, the right commitment, I can finally figure out how to stay on top of my blogs, keep up with my freelance work, keep the house clean, make delicious healthy creative dinners that never cost more than $10 for the whole family, organize and use my coupons to get tons of stuff for nearly free, be mom to my daugher, spend time with my husband, go to services and Bible class every week, do some kind of hike or other outdoor event every weekend, and still have time for my yoga and pilates classes, journal writing, reading and watching an occasional TV show.

Oh and did I mention, keep some semblance of sanity? Because, yeah, I'm crazy like that.

When I write it all down like that, I can see the insanity. But even then, a part of me thinks it's still possible. Or at least more possible than my daily reality suggests. Because the real, daily me is always running at full speed but still leaving half of that list in the "To be done" column by the time I crash around midnight (or one or two or...)

And I wake up, behind on my blog, opting for a quick but not cheap dinner plan, watching my coupons expire unused, floors in need of cleaning and article deadlines looming, all the while dreading the rush of the approaching (or current) weekend which only seems to double or triple my exhaustion and "behindedness" (my new word...do you like that one?)

Why do we women do this?  Because I know it's not just me. I know there are many heads nodding as you read, recognizing your own never-ending list and that feeling that if you just found the right method, it would all fall into place.

I remember years ago reading an article by a woman who was trying to do just that, with a new planner. She kept adding time onto her morning, by scheduling her wake-up time earlier and earlier, to squeeze in things like exercise or meditation or writing. And at the same time, she kept pushing back her planned bed time, so she would be able to get a jump-start on the next day by laying out clothes, setting the table for breakfast or carving out some time to read. But when she put the two pieces together, she realized that her new "schedule" would have had her getting up before she went to bed.

I laughed, but only because I understood. I could see myself making that same discovery. I've bought the planners. I've created the "Command Center" in the house with white boards and bulletin boards and calendars. I've created online calendars and printed and posted calendars and put calendars on my phone that are shared with my husband and daughter's phones. But still, the list never gets done.

And yet, even with years of momhood experience, and stories that point out the futility, I keep trying. So the real question is, how do I stop? How do WE stop? Because all I can think of is heading out to buy a new and bigger calendar.

Do you have a solution? A tool that really does work? Or a technique that lets you step back from the insanity, and manage it somehow?

Can you share, please? Otherwise, I know I'll be downloading yet another planning tool by midnight.

What a "clean room" means to a teenager

The Before...

We just had yet another round about the room. But this time, I didn't yell or even get mad.  I was too busy laughing.

Why? Because the absurdity of what a teen can call a "clean" room just hit me. Maybe it's because I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm punchy. But it was all too funny to do anything but laugh..

For those of you new to this parent thing, you might not understand. Let me put it in simple terms. Two year olds make a mess. Teenagers give F4 tornadoes a run for their money. 

And then they "clean" it up. And that's where the real fun starts. We had that particular breed of fun just tonight. But I was laughing to hard to haul out the camera, so use your imagination. Here goes...

According to the alternate-reality world of teenager-hood, a clean room may include:

• Five assorted glasses, cups and mugs
• Three plates and two bowls
• My favourite tea pot, the one I said must never, ever, ever, under any circumstances go further than the dining room  (because it was a wedding present and cost more that I could ever possibly justify spending for a tea pot!) 
• Three pairs of shoes in the hall just outside of the door
• Two belts on the same hall floor
• A floor under the bed which was home to a half dozen power cords and headphones, several food  wrappers, an apple core and at least two magazines. 
• A pile of "I don't know what to do with this" stuff that covers about a 2' x 2' square of carpet
• A dresser top that I know is there only because I can remember what it looks like from when we moved in.
• Ditto the bedside table top
• Ditto the desk top
• An unmade bed piled with at least half of the blankets, quilts and pillows we own (she likes to make a "nest" to sleep in...oh, wait. She got that trait from me. Never mind...)

I walked in, because she wanted me to see the "clean room". My husband, who had beaten me to the punch, was laying on the floor, laughing. I could not help but joining in. So we giggled. And my daughter giggled. And her friend, who was "helping" her clean, giggled. 

And when we finished laughing, she put on the two belts, and two of the pairs of shoes that had been in the hall (one pair on feet, one on hands), then picked up the long-since outgrown little girl purse from the dresser and announced she was ready to go to Wendy's for a Frosty. as a reward for cleaning her room. 

So.....Dishes removed, space under the bed cleared and vacuumed and the desk somewhat exposed, my husband took the girls to Wendy's for those Frostys

Yeah, according to the "Great and Powerful Oz", or "The Book of Really Good Parenting" (which I am sure exists, but I never did find a copy), we are bad parents.  We should have refused to play along until the room was genuinely clean. We should have used it as an object lesson for responsibility and natural consequences and all the other things the people who have read that "Really Good Parenting" book do. 

But we didn't. We laughed and we bought Frostys

But you know what? I don't care what I should have done. It was worth it for the giggles she gave us. And that's more precious than all the spotlessly clean rooms in the universe.

What you say about social media is NOT what your kids hear

Let me start out by saying that is not yet another post about the dangers of social media profiles, and the world of paedophiles lurking out there waiting to scoop up the names, locations and pictures. That message has come through loud and clear. Got it.

Nope, this is about trying to get kids (and especially teens) to understand that NOTHING goes away online. That the "Delete" button is really just an archive or a "don't show this here now to me" button.

And that colleges and universities are using that information (including what you THOUGHT you deleted) to decide who get in and who gets scholarships.

And employers, legally or not, are using it to decide who gets hired and who gets the boot. And did I mention that it NEVER, EVER, EVER goes away???

So here's how it goes. I calmly tell my kids and their friends that they shouldn't post anything online they wouldn't want their grandmother, teachers, future boss or someday boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife reading. Or looking at. Or listening to. (Yeah, dangling participles galore...I can just hear my English degree adviser now!)

They look at me with sympathy. Poor mom has drunk the Kool-Aid. Doesn't get the world of Tumblr or Facebook. Never mind that online content marketing is my profession. Doesn't matter.

And so they post. And they upload.  Nothing truly awful. Nothing criminal or mean. Just stuff that to an admissions committee faced with 200 completely qualified students and one more slot could mean they come across as a slacker or uncomnmited or that person who's going to penny in the other students on the dorm floor. So they get the dreaded thin letter and someone else gets the welcome packet.

I know that the screaming-until-your-face-turns-blue or lecturing until your tongue is sprained won't get the message across. But ignoring it isn't an option.

So I'm asking you...what if anything has worked for you?  What message, what tool, what piece of information worked?

In the meantime, here's a message for future employers and college admissions boards everywhere. Kids say and do stupid stuff. By definition. Because they are kids. So could you please do everyone a favor and just look away a bit more? Scale back the peeking in where you're not invited. It's kind of like reading your sister's diary...none of your business and probably mostly made up.

Because behind the weird videos and talk about putting a cow on the high school princpals roof, they're good kids.  And odds are they would be good students and good employees.

Oh, and one more thing.  That prank you never figured out when I was at UF? That was me. The early-admissions, squeeky clean honors student. Just sayin'

Where's my infinity pool?

My mind works in weird ways, especially when I'm way overtired from three nights of not sleeping well (can someone explain to me why the very same dog who sleeps curled in a tiny ball in the living room finds it necessary to stretch out and take up as much space as possible if I let her sleep in our bed?  I mean, seriously!)

Anyhow, yesterday I flipped on the TV and there was this commercial for an addiction recovery center. And it was gorgeous. Women relaxing in fluffy spa robes, yoga classes by the beach, a man looking fit and tranquil resting at the edge of an infinity pool. And according to the spokesman, the whole experience is covered by most insurance plans.

And I had to wonder....where is MY infinity pool? Where is my beach-front yoga class? And why can't I get insurance to pay for any of that?

No, I am not an addict. In fact, I never have been. I don't even drink. Never tried drugs. (My mom did a great job of scaring me out of even experimenting with those -- thank you, Mom!)  But that shouldn't be a barrier to an insurance-paid  fluffy white spa robe of my own, should it?

Now don't get me wrong. I am not belitting the horror of addiction. Or the trials people go through in trying to get and stay clean and sober. I have friends and family members who have been down that path, and I have seen what they have been through. And I'm eternally grateful I did not face those issues.

But in all fairness, shouldn't there be a reward for exhausted moms and dads who stayed addiction-free?  An insurance-covered retreat if you make it to say, 35 or 40 without ever having a chemical addiction? Call it a medical pat on the back for managing to make it through the teen years, college, work, marriage, sleepless nights with babies, school aged kids and moody teens of our own (and for some of us, through in divorce, single parenthood and remarriage, too) , without becoming addicted.

Because, when you think about it, that is a pretty major accomplishment! So I think a completely free week or two at a beach-front spa is the least we could get in return. So do you think we could get this passed by Congress?

Let's get one of those petitions going on Facebook for a mandate to all insurance companies to give unaddicted moms and dads something to look forward to after they face all of life head on. With a fluffy spa robe and an infinity pool of their very own. With three nights of bad sleep and a moody teen at home, it sounds awfully good to me.

Time for the family pictures...oh, and don't forget the holiday letters!

I have always wanted to have one of THOSE family holiday pictures.  You know, the kind where a smiling family is posed in a charmingly vintage setting, every hair in place and of course all in perfectly matched outfits.

Just one.  Just once.

So when I saw Design Mom's Tips for [Perfect!] Family Photos, I was once again hooked. Yes, I did insert that "perfect" but when you see her adorable shots, you'll understand why. Not only was the vintage European car a perfect prop, the stone building was a dream-come-true backdrop.  Even the sky cooperated, offering a lovely silver palate to highlight the bright red packages.

And miracle of miracles, the kids looked like they all played along.

As if.

As if I could ever pull that off. Oh, it's not that I didn't try. But between the whines when I said we would all be wearing matching demin shirts, to the photo-phobic child of the year (they seemed to trade this role from year to year), the picture of my dreams never happened. Hair was pulled, things were spilled (didn't I say no chocolate milk until AFTER the shoot???)...and again I settled for almost any shot with the three kids in it and no one's eyes closed.

But let it never be said that I am a quitter, because I am planning to try again this year.  No, there won't be any adorable vintage cars involved. And I'm thinking more geeky t-shirts instead of matching denim.  But seeing other people's perfect shot has renewed my determination to try again.

So kids, be forewarned. Mom is bringing out the family photo shoot plan again this year.

And then we'll start on the holiday newsletter.......Mwa haha,

It's started already!

Cartoon thanks to Restoring Truthiness

Quick!  Somebody check the calendar!  Mine says it's November 14th.  Is it right?

OK, so WHY are there not one, but TWO channels of 24/7 Christmas music on the radio already?  Didn't that used to start the day after Thanksgiving?  So why the bump up?

Are the people at XM Radio concerned that we might have forgotten the lyrics to the Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire song, so we need more practice before the holiday actually hits?  If that's the case, I can assure them that the words to that and every other standard Christmas song are permanently burned into the brains of every American, regardless of their personal religion. We do NOT need to practice!

Or maybe they think that hearing endless versions of Rockin Around the Christmas Tree* will make us turn our cars around and head to the mall for a zombie-like shopping spree. Sorry, retailers. I think as a country we're wising up a bit, and realizing that no one really wants those "gift sets" stacked up at the entrance to every department store. And the "Made in China" clothing is wearing thin, too (literally, in this case! Is it even possible to find shirts that don't show your skin and bra through them anymore?)

No matter why they're on so early, you may be wondering how I know about these two stations of aural torture. XM has hundreds of stations, right? True.  But I am blessed with a daughter who actually likes Christmas music.

She apparently even liked it before she was born, because she chose to make her entrance on the planet on December 25th. I thought that she might have picked that day because the roads were empty...a handy thought when said roads were also snow-covered. But now I'm convinced she picked that snowy December evening so she could listen to the last of the barrage of Christmas music.

Why else would she have gotten that glow in her eyes when she heard the mention of the new stations as we were driving to school the other day?  And why, this morning, was I subjected to a sampling of all that is to come for the next month and half?

I did try to nip it in the bud. I suggested that we print out a list of the standard Christmas songs, and keep it with us in the car.  Everytime we hear one, no matter which version, we check it off. Once the list is done (which I figure will only take a few days), we shut off the Xmas sounds until next year. As Elvis came on, moaning (er, um singing) Blue Christmas, she laughed.  "Funny, Mom."

Sigh.  It's going to be a long, long time until December 25th.
_______________________________________
*The version of Rockin Around the Christmas Tree we were "treated to" this morning was sung by Wayne Newton. Neither my daughter nor her BFF had every heard of him, and neither believed it was a guy.  I officially felt old!

This is a test...can I actually be organized?

Photo via Pottery Barn

Right now, my front hall is decorated with a half dozen neatly tacked up pieces of newspaper.  I read somewhere that this was a great way to figure out how to arrange pictures or art on a wall before you actually grab the hammer and nails.

After a few false starts, the arrangement works.

In a few minutes, the newspaper is going to be replaced. with memo boards, a dry-erase calendar, chore charts, a bulletin board and framed name art to show who's board is who's. The whole thing will be topped with a quote designed to help us start the day right.

Once it's all up, the real test begins. Starting tomorrow, I will have a command center with all the tools that are supposed to make family scheduling easy, homework tracking efficient, and school mornings free from panic, tears, rushing and last-minute "oh I forgot..."

So what if it doesn't work? What if all of these tools and boards and quotes don't change anything?

If I can't get myself and my family organized with all the right stuff, does that mean I have to give up on EVER getting it right?  I am about to find out.

Yoda says there is no try, only do. So starting tomorrow, it's not about trying to get us on track. It is about doing...or not doing. Wish me luck!

Happiness and sleep...but what about a life?

I've been reading a book called The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin.  It's arranged by month, but I'm a rebel so I'm starting with January instead of skipping ahead to October.  Yup, running with scissors, that's me.

Anyhow, the very first element of happiness she addresses is sleep. Er, um...sleep as an issue?  Who me?  Well....yeah. In fact sleep has been an issue for me as long as I can remember. By middle school, I was a veteran of the late movie channels.  And that book I got in the morning might very well be finished by the next morning.

I've heard all the reasons why sleep matters...and the dire predictions for those who don't sleep enough. People opt out of the 8 hours a night of shut eye are more prone to accidents, have weaker immune systems, are less effective at work. Thanks folks...nothing like worrying about the health risks of a lifetime of sleeplessness to help you drift off into dreamland, right?

So when I saw the same warnings in Rubin's book, I almost skipped the chapter. And when she talked about how wonderful she felt after a week of going to sleep at 9:30 and waking up sans alarm at 5:30, I closed the book.

Let's get real.  Sure sleep might be great.  It might even be critical, but drifting off at 9:30 p.m. night after night would mean:

• Ending my day and getting ready for bed at around 9 pm
• Spending almost no time alone with my husband. (And because this is a family-friendly blog, I will leave it at that.)
• Missing all the wonderful connections that come from late night conversations with my daughter
• Giving up on concerts, date nights, football games, blogger gatherings, professional conferences, and even phone calls with friends when their kids are finally asleep
• Never seeing another movie in its entirety...by the time the dishes are cleaned up after dinner, it's at least 8 pm (often later)
• No scrapbooking or art or (gasp!) reading for more than a half hour or so
• Skipping out early on religious services on Friday nights, where we are often still at the Temple at 9:30

Don't get me wrong.  I get the idea. And odds are I would feel more rested and be a better worker. But the days of really falling asleep over dinner aren't that far away for any of us.  So until it's time for me to be packed off to Century Village, I will choose my late nights over a bit more shut eye. 

And I'm going to use some of that time to read the rest of Rubin's book....I flipped through the book and a lot of the other ideas sounded very good. And you know what?  I might even stay up extra late tonight to finish it! 

Gretchen Rubin will be speaking about her new book  Happier at Home at the Texas Conference for Women on October 24th in Austin. Tickets are still available at the conference website.  Listen in on her free teleconference on October 15th for a taste of what's to come!

Back to Mom 101

Can this happen in the real world??

You'd think after three kids and countless mornings getting kids off to school, I would have it down to a science.  Lunches would be prepped and in the fridge, clothes laid out and backpacks loaded and waiting by the door. And I would sail through the morning, dressed and ready, calm and peaceful, planting kisses and offering sage advice on how to ace that vocab test.

Yeah right.

Take this morning for example.

My husband and I are both fighting a cold that won't let go, so the morning started with coughs and grabbing for tissues.  Then he headed out to walk the dog, and I hit the shower for my relaxing, revitalizing four minute shower.  (What would a long shower be like??  I've forgotten.)

After I hack up a lung as soon as the steam hits, I scrub down, decide I can go one more day without washing my hair, then throw on a pair of jeans and a top and head for the kitchen.  On the way, I hear the dryer running, so that means my daughter didn't get her laundry done last night and needs something for today.  I stop to check the dryer, and find that she's thrown a couple of wet things in with the already dry load.

I pull out the now super-dry stuff and find my husband's missing sunglasses bouncing around in there. Dry clothes folded, blazing hot sunglasses on top.  Dryer restarted with only the wet things.

Back to heading for the kitchen.

I hear my daughter moving around between her room and her bathroom, so I know I don't need to go wake her up, and I have visions of putting the water on to make myself a cup of peppermint tea.

My husband returns from the walk, and heads for his own four minute shower.

Hint...this is NOT me!

Then I look at the time, and remember that we didn't get around to cutting up the stuff for lunch last night, so instead of reaching for the tea, I reach for the cutting board and the veggies from the fridge. Lettuce, peppers, carrots, celery, cheese.  Check.  Apple. Check. Water bottle.  Oh heck!  Where is that water bottle?

I ask my husband to empty the dishwasher, so we dance around each other in the kitchen while I finish packing the lunch. 

Call out to my daughter in my scratchy voice.  No answer.  I hear the water running in the bathroom.  Surely she's done by now.  And I hear the printer going. How can both be running at the same time?  I'm afraid to ask.

My daughter runs through the kitchen, still in pajamas, heading for the laundry room. Water bottle found and washed. Daughter runs back through, complaining that my computer wasn't working right and messed up her printing.

Lunch done, veggies put away, cutting board emptied.  The trash smells funky, so I close it up and pull the bag out.  Throw in a load of wash.

Grab my computer because I need to catch up on some work while I'm at the genealogy library this morning. Grab my purse.  Look for keys.  Run back in the bedroom to grab my phone.

Ask my husband to grab the trash bag just in time to hear the door closing behind him. Chase daughter out the door, grab my purse, computer bag and trashbag and shut the door without the dog or the cat getting out.

Throw the trash away (hoping I haven't tossed anything else in the can..like my phone), and open the car door. Get in and realize that I forgot to take my cold medicine and vitamins, and never got around to putting on makeup.

Our van is on the fritz right now, so we have to all go to drop our daughter at school (who's mad that I told her she had to take the bus home, and oh, by the way, she forgot to wash her tights for ballet), then head to my husband's work to drop him off. 

Finally get to the genealogy library only 5 minutes late. No makeup.  No peppermint tea.  No energy.   I pray for a "Closed" sign on the library.  No luck. 

But also, no patrons.  So I can do some work..  But first, I need to blog.  No really, I NEED to blog.

And so it is.  Three kids. And I am still at Mom 101 on a morning like this.

Texas high school mums, Part 2!

A few days ago, I posted about the mysteries of something high school students in Texas call "mums."  Well, now, thanks to some great Austin bloggers, a lot of web searches, and some very amused but thankfully patient people at Michael's, my daughter had her own mum in time for Homecoming Day. 

Decked out in orange and white, this mass of silk flowers, plastic hanging bits, tiny cow bells, hot glue, staples and more ribbon than I could have imagined took shape last night on our kitchen table. 

 I hung it in the Hoosier overnight, in part to keep the ribbons straight, and in part to prevent the cat (and/or the dog) from turning our hard work into the latest drag-out-into-the-yard  toy.

 One thing we didn't know until last night was that friends make mums for friends!  But when my daughter found out, she took the teddy bear that was supposed to live in the center of the mum, and made it into a beautiful mum-i-fied (giggle!) gift for her Austin BFF.

 The mum made it through the night unscathed and on to my daughter.

I may not understand these craft store concoctions (and as a scrapebooker, I usually love all crafts!) but I'm glad we found out in time to create our own masterpiece. Thank you to all who helped explain the mysteries of the Texas mum! 

TX M.I.L.K. Mom's Rock at SXSW

After the noise and craziness of SXSW, it was a wonderful experience to attend the TX M.I.L.K. (Texas Mom's I'd Like to Meet) event at Happy Salon and Spa.

Instead of the hectic energy and downtown venues of the rest of SXSW, this outdoor event felt like a gathering at a friend's home.  Several bands played, including Charlie Belle and Karen Chisholm, while moms and kids (and a few dads) enjoyed samples of Tiny Pies and Better Bites cupcakes, all washed down with ice cold drinks from the huge coolers.  It was cool and breezy, as we sat around pretty tables, or wandered around looking at the wares from vendors chosen to appeal to the mommy-set. 

What a difference in mood from the rest of SXSW.  Great music, bubbles and the sounds of kids filled the air. This was an event just for us moms!  Married moms, single moms, moms of babies and moms of teens.  Just moms. Now how cool is that?

Thanks TX M.I.L.K. Happy Salon and all the sponsors.  This was a wonderful end to my first SXSW!