Slow learning, since 1976…

What I’ve learned in May is kind of a tricky topic. I feel it’s likely, on any given day, that I could have a varying degree of answers. One day I’d tell you that I learned to master the most amazing sandwich recipe, the next I’d cry into my sourdough bread and tell you how I’ve learned nothing and I’m a huge failure, doomed to repeat the same disastrous mistakes day after day.

I live with a fifteen year old girl, who is the barometer of our house. I’ve learned this.

I kind of, sort of, pretty much, definitely hate it. {learned that too.}

In all seriousness, it’s been a tough month. My instinct is to lay it all out for you and prove to you that I’m a failure as a wife, mother, writer and _________ (insert every other area here), but the truth is, I’ve learned the damage thinking such things can do. While yes, it has become painstakingly clear that I am not an awesome mom because apparently awesome moms have their stuff figured it by now, I have learned that I daily become more and more of the person I’m destined to be. Labeling all of my steps along this journey, until this moment, as failure only sounds spoiled and ungrateful.

I already knew I didn’t want to be that…

I’ve learned that love is patient. Most of us know that. It’s something ingrained into our brains and yet, I’m only really starting to understand what that truly means. I’ve learned that saying “no” to the stuff we should say no to is tough, and saying “yes” to the stuff we should agree to is even tougher. This realization hit me like a Mack truck to the face, and I still think it sucks, but something about knowing it helps me when I’m faced with the question and that’s a good thing.

I’ve learned that intentional dating is an awesome thing to do with my husband, but sometimes life is heavy and hard and we just need to escape and zone out at the movies together. Feeling guilty for that isn’t healthy.

I tried to learn to make fried chicken again. (the last time was 20 years ago.) I will not try again. I realize there is nothing healthy about fried chicken but I grew up on fried chicken picnics and Chw grew up on Sunday fried chicken dinners. Nostalgia inspired me to try it again. I did learn that I’m a really great cook, when it comes to some things, and fried chicken is not one of them. I am ok with this…

Regarding writing, and working from home, May has been quite an educational month. I’ve learned I work better when I’m working. Novel concept, (no pun intended) I know. It’s that simply, though, so I’ve begun scheduling my hours and it works like a dream. Because it’s the end of the school year oddness, a few things have been tweaked, but it’s been a pretty great and I’ve been more productive and taken more steps forward this month than I have in well over a year.

It all falls under the same lesson though, one I think that I’ve been learning since I was seven years old… That’s the lesson of grace. Grace for myself, grace for others… I’ll wake up and need to learn it again tomorrow. I think I’m stuck in my own version of Groundhog Day over here…

Happiness is…

Over the weekend we had the privilege of seeing a local theatre production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.  Anyone who knows me knows that I love musical theatre, but I have to be honest, this show was nowhere on my radar. At all. I don’t even know why. In reality, if it wasn’t for the fact that friends of ours were directing the production (and their awesome kids, whom we adore, were also in the show) we probably wouldn’t have gone at all.

Sometimes, I love the surprise of being wrong about something. This show is adorable. These kids were incredible, maybe beyond incredible. Having a daughter who was once heavily immersed in theatre, I’ve seen a lot of children perform but some of these kids were phenomenal. Plus, the show just made me, well- happy!

Towards the end of the show, different members of the Peanuts gang take turns saying what Happiness is to them. Interestingly, I have that little Peanuts gift book, Happiness Is… And I love it!

With last week being such a downer, I thought I’d take a minute to just share some things that are happiness to me.

Happiness is…

– a warm ceramic mug, cupped by both hands.

– fresh sheets.

– songs sang by the Cello.

– laughing with my husband.

– tall blades of grass flecked with fireflies.

– peonies.

– thunder rumble, with pouring rain.

– bright blue, sun streamed sky.

– weekend brunch.

– being in one room, with my kids.

– taking a really unexpectedly great photo.

– my completely awesome friends.

– B29 bacon.

– unique & ecclectic office/paper products and notebooks.

– an afternoon to read.

– picnics followed by nothing but enjoying the moment.

– when a butterfly lands on me.

– getting a facial.

– good hair days.

– the Boise connector, right when BoDo comes into sight. *sigh* (makes my heart leap- EVERY TIME)

– the ocean beach. Any will do, but the Oregon coast is best.

– New Mexico sunsets. Best skies, period.

– good, fresh roasted green chili.

– getting letters in the mail.

– finding the perfect pen.

– Kate Spade. While I love most of the brand products (most), I’m a big fan of the woman herself. (who is no longer associated with brand, fyi)

– Starbucks Lime Refreshers. {and that my husband loves them too. We NEVER love the same thing!}

– inside jokes.

What makes you happy?

Why Mother’s Day is Crap…

Mother’s day is my least favorite holiday in all of the calendar year days to celebrate. It isn’t that I don’t love my bio-mom, because I do. Very much. And it isn’t that I don’t honor the memory of my mom or my grandmother, who both stepped in when I needed them the most. Until yesterday, I’m not even sure I could summarize why I’d just rather ignore it completely…

Years ago, on my friend Mindy’s first mother’s day she gave me a sweet little mother’s day gift. A loving little gift for me, and a gift to tuck away for my someday baby. In the note which accompanied, she thanked me for loving on her sweet baby girl and she expressed her faith and optimism for my someday mommyhood. In that small gesture she acknowledged that I was more than my miscarriages and infertility. I was more than my broken heart and empty longing, but she did this is a personal way that was real and did not place any pressure on me. Years later Mindy would have a brilliantly huge birthday bash where friends from everywhere would travel to pay her honor, and speak. I would share my memory, and publicly fall apart in a soppy mess of tears. Partly this is because I don’t publicly speak, partly there were other reasons but significantly to this post, it is because her beautiful gesture will forever be one of my Top Ten Life moments. It meant more to me than the majority of gifts that I’ve ever been given,  and to tell you the truth, I cannot even remember what the gift for me was exactly. Something from Bath & Body Works I think. Because, the what was completely irrelevant. It was the why, and the how, and a little bit of the when… For Mindy, it was her first Mother’s Day, as a mom. It was her first Mother’s Day without her mom. It was a crappy day for her even beyond that last tragic reason because she was not acknowledged or appreciated… So much went into something so small and meaningful.

Beyond that one tiny instance though, Mother’s Day for me has meant blinding reminders of my miscarriages and infertility. It has meant a world full of Hallmark holiday expectations met with reality that is far more hurt filled… And by this I don’t mean that I expected beautiful and expensive gifts from my kids and instead got a handmade macaroni card… I mean, I am a mom to hurt kids, who were hurt before I got the privilege of being their mom. The very real truth to this is that sometimes they feel really hard things and they lash out and punish, and the person on the receiving end of that will be me. And it sucks. And this always falls on my birthday, and this always falls on Mother’s Day (and other holidays. and non-holidays, and days that start with consonants and end in y’s.)

While I believe that people mean well, I have to question why there is an intolerance to actual Motherhood, an insensitivity. Attachment disorder aside, events like baby showers, baby dedications, etc. can be very difficult for someone who has lost a child or struggles with infertility. I was shocked yesterday when we went to church (just my husband and I, as our daughter was at youth group elsewhere) and dozens of people we’ve never met where telling me Happy Mother’s Day. (and not just me, EVERY adult woman.) At one point I logged on to Twitter/FB in the afternoon and saw hundreds of tweets/posts from friends who are either fellow adoptive moms, other women who ache for babies, or friends who have lost children talking about how difficult of a day it was. Women who feel isolated by their hurt should not have to go into hiding days before a holiday meant to make them feel loved, should they? This just makes me sad. There has to be a way that we can embrace the broad spectrum of motherhood and all of the different types of women that it holds within it, whether they are grieving, feeling unloved, aching to be a mom or just tired and under appreciated. This is not a one-size-fits-all holiday, but it’s up to us (women) to take notice and acknowledge each other to make that difference. The type of mom, in the type of family that this cookie cutter holiday caters to, is the minority, and if you look close you’ll see that a large portion of moms spend their special days in misery, and then to top it off there is the guilt that follows, from feeling miserable.

We keep Mother’s Day REALLY low key around our house. Chw will make breakfast. We don’t usually go to church (for the reasons I mentioned above) but did yesterday because Gen really wanted to. We might go to the book store, or a movie, and then we just hang out at home. I like the low key… Last week was a hard week full of lots of anger and hard, mean words. I like the quiet days, they suit me just fine. My favorite “Mother’s Day” will always be that one, the year before I became a mom, with the thoughtfulness my friend displayed though. If  only we could all be a little more like that…

May, be…

Sure, it sounds old, and over-used to take this opportunity to rant about how it’s already May, (and how is this possible?!?!?) but really, it seems insane to me. Wasn’t it just the polar eternal vortex? And suddenly green grass is everywhere and it’s May first. What in the world?

Usually, on the first of the month I take a post to outline my goals for the month. Here are my May aspirations…

 

Passions

– I’ve taken on a new, slightly top-secret writing project that only a VERY small, handful of people know anything about. I’m really excited about it, maybe more excited than I’ve been about anything I’ve worked on before. Stay tuned!

– working on my quarterly newsletter. (aren’t on the list and want to be? Leave a comment with your email address and I’ll add you!)

– a few fun photo shoots coming up.

Delancey, by Molly Wizenberg being released. I’ve waited literal YEARS for this book!

 

Family/Friends

– celebrating my husband’s fortieth birthday.

– doing Storyline alongside my dear friend KL, (well, alongside, but spanning 2000 miles).

– honoring the moms in our lives.

– celebrating the special days of special friends.

– going to see the local theater production that friends of our directed. We’re pretty excited about that.

– Sunday morning excursions to the Farmer’s market. happily, happily, basket in hand, I’ll adventure off in search of wonderful.

 

Love

– there are a couple of date nights on the front. We are right on schedule with our intentional date challenge, having completed 10/25, for the year.

– intentional conversations, planning sessions and dreams. It’s time.

– evening walks around the neighborhood.

 

Home

– get the outdoor furniture out on the deck, should the rainy weather allow it. I’m so ready to sit out there and drink wine in the evenings while talking with Chw about our days. I’m ready to drink iced tea and write out there in the afternoons, (epi pen close by, of course, as our bees last year were horrendous!)

– grilled dinners! I am so excited about that! We’ve grilled out once already, but I’m ready for 500 more times.

– coming up with a fun Monday night tradition to accompany the return of 24. We LOVE Jack Bauer in this house and are BEYOND thrilled… (Any ideas?)

– getting rid of some living room furniture, making room for our beautiful new sofa (20 year anniversary gift) and just playing with the room a little.

– small bedroom paint project.

– possibly taking on the re-upholstering (or decent slipcovering) of an ottoman, should I locate my bravery somewhere.

 

What about you? What’s on your agenda for the month of May?

figuring it out…

IMG_0377One month ago, today, I turned 38. I always believed that by the time I reached such a ripe-old-age, I would have stuff figured out. By stuff, of course, I mean pretty much everything. Not surprisingly, (and I say not surprisingly because I know me) I wake up some mornings and realize I might be farther from that place than ever. I’m also pretty sure, on those days, that the times when I feel like I’ve got a good handle on things, I’m just majorly full of crap.

My birthday happens to fall forty days before my husband’s. This wasn’t something I was really aware of until I decided to shower him with gifts, love and attention in the forty days preceding his fortieth birthday and that just happened to begin on mine. {for the record, this was an accidental detail I happened to love.}

Sidenote: this 40 day journey has been one of the most fun birthday things that I’ve ever done and it has turned out way better than I expected. I seriously recommend it.

Yesterday his “gift” (I say “gift” because no one needs forty new things. Some have been new things, but sometimes it’s something special to do, that he really loves. Or one day it was a totally unexpected surprise party, that blew him away.) was his favorite homemade cookies and a Star Trek marathon. This was actually a huge gesture on my part because, though I love him so incredibly, I’ve watched each of those movies with him once or twice and it’s been YEARS, and these viewings never occurred simultaneously. Star Trek just isn’t my thing, but it is his. Mind you, he doesn’t own a suit, speak Klingon, go to conventions or want memorabilia, but he loves The Next Generation and he loves the movies.

While he sat, blissfully lost in the galaxy (or is it another galaxy? I just don’t get it.) I baked cookies, cleaned the kitchen, meal planned, did laundry, made an amazing dinner (something I don’t do often enough, these days) and managed to stay engaged enough to the movies to know what was happening. I was tempted to feel guilty that so much productivity was happening, in my home, on a Sunday. As I sat there, processing those ideas, I questioned where that guilt came from. If I were to be honest with myself, I’d admit that I really love our laundry getting done on Sunday afternoons. I love the house getting whipped into shape on Sunday, everyone pulling their part. While I’m not one who enjoys baking, I even liked the idea of baking cookies for lunches and to have on hand for a few after school snacks, for the weekdays. The big Sunday dinner was also nice, and something we hardly ever do. We savored bites of grilled pork chops, mashed sweet potatoes and roasted brussels sprouts. While the food tasted delicious, is it silly to think it tasted better because it was a Sunday, and because it followed (for me) a day of productivity and success?

Over Lent I gave up reading fiction and focussed on reading good for my heart books. My motivation was that I knew I had things I needed to learn/relearn/realize and I tend to hide away in fiction and buy books like that because they sound “amazing”, and then allow them to stack up. The end result was my mind was reshaped in several areas, I learned a ton, my perspective changed/shifted on many things and I wrote at least a thousand quotes that felt to my parched soul like cool drinks of water. Yesterday, as I struggled with some self-imposed guilt over Sunday productivity, and my enjoyment from it, one particular quote/idea that I read along the way came to mind. I believe it was by Emily P. Freeman. (and I am absolutely paraphrasing) She was talking about how true worship of  God was being present and engaged in whatever we were doing in that moment. Whether it was something wonderful and artistic, or some monotonous chore. This really hit me hard, and I have been trying to be fully present and engaged in what I do. I can see how there is no better act of gratitude than that, and also no great gesture of humility than to give your all and best to something as lowly as scrubbing the toilet and painting a mural. Not surprisingly, yesterday is a great example. Not only did it turn out to be a pretty great day for me, I’m sure that was absolutely because I engaged in my life and lived it. Even the stuff that’s not my favorite…

I may not have it all figured out yet, but one month later, I’m at least a little closer…