Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very soul.
Laying in bed until 9. Staying up late. Eating Christmas cookies, especially Lemon meltaways for breakfast. Shopping and lunching with girlfriends. Reading 3 books, starting 2 more. Ah the joys of Christmas vacation....okay, that all did happen. But was that it?
Mrs. Virginia and I were reading a mutual friends Christmas letter on the phone. I don't like the letters. mostly because it means whoever sent you one, has no intention of ever calling you. And I like phone calls. I like interaction. And I usually hate the letters. Especially ones that tell you they have a better life than yours. But does anyone tell you the day to day reality of their life? What was my vacation really like this past week?
Getting up because the dog was barking. Stumbling out of bed one morning because the boss called and I had to go into work. Getting up to listen to the latest renditions of Guitar Hero 3. Getting up to find the kitchen was totalled with boxes of cereal, hot cocoa wrappers, half full cans of pop, cheese wrappers and boxes of macaroni and cheese, and listening to my kids, as I am viewing this mess and they are munching on potato chips at 9 A.M., tell there is nothing to eat.
After 2 hours of daily de-gunking the house, I started on the mounds of laundry each day. Then I proceeded to drive the little cherubs to one friend and then another. And then I shopped again for something or returned yet another item. And waited in traffic. And waited. And I got home to pick up junk from which ever kid was home while I drove around. Then I cooked. And I ate more cookies. Then I picked them up and we started the routine all over again. Twins arguing over guitar hero. Wild Child with 3 friends on the computer. Dog barking wildly. Food everywhere. Dirty laundry pilling up. FUN!
Today started with cuddle time. I was laying in bed until 9, me the woman who is up at 5 most days. I was reading and sipping coffee. And then cupcake came down and joined me and the mutt in the covers. And I flipped over, pulled the covers up and said I didn't want to get up today. And cupcake pulled the covers back, and placed her face right in front of mine. I still laid there, with my eyes closed saying, NO, NO, NO, I WILL NOT GET UP. And then I opened my eyes and burst out laughing. There cupcake was, with her face pressed one inch from mine, doing this huge cheeky smile. You just can not help but burst out laughing.
And then the song, "Stinky breath, Stinky breath, Mama's got Stinky Breath. "
Your breath is worse. Is not. Is too. Is not. Is too. Is not, followed by a blanket tackle and a tickle.
Now that's the reality I prefer to remember and smile about.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Appliance Monsters
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
The pageant is over. All that remains is the crinkled wrapping paper, the cardboard boxes reused as gladiator swords and the tinsel everywhere, even though we never buy tinsel. The after glow of a sunny Christmas morning collides with the aftermath of empty wallets and tired Moms.
Why does the cheer of Christmas quickly disintegrate into reality TV without the prizes?---me
Woke today and decided to do laundry. Big mistake. Huge. Never put laundry in before the caffeine super craving is satisfied. Moved yesterday's washed closed to the dryer and hit the minutes. Started new laundry. Made coffee. Showered, singing, happy to have another day off and a 50% Starbucks cafe discount. Life is good.
Have cuddle time with the cupcake daughter. Nice, happy. Decided to try and discover America again in the form of a kitchen counter and living room rug. Both still intact, the rumor that they were missing was totally a lie. Went to switch the wash, opened the dryer.
HMMM. Cold. Crap. Really? And the DH thought the fact the clothes were taking longer to dry was because I suddenly forgot how to wash clothes after 18 total/16 happy years of marriage. No, really, the heating element went.
Dryer number 4. Vacuum number 6. Stove parts in the hundreds. Weird car breakdowns in the thousands(whoever heard of the locking mechanism for the ignition going? How about the axle?). We always have the best of luck in the days following Christmas. It's like Santa really leaves us a new gift and it isnt' winning the lottery. Here we go again. Jeesh.
Oh well. Who needs towels to dry ourselves with? Just turn the heat up and streak. Or clean undies? Isn't commando all the rage? It's vacation week, so jammies are perfect attire. Let's not talk about the kids sheets. I am sure the health department doesn't really need to know about the stench coming from the vicinty of Wild Child's bed again. And I am sure leftover Christmas cookie crumbs mixed with homemade eggnog really won't stain. I hope.
I don't work again until Tuesday. Can you send some quarters by then? Or better yet, can I come have some Christmas cheer while I borrow your dryer?
Happy Day.
The pageant is over. All that remains is the crinkled wrapping paper, the cardboard boxes reused as gladiator swords and the tinsel everywhere, even though we never buy tinsel. The after glow of a sunny Christmas morning collides with the aftermath of empty wallets and tired Moms.
Why does the cheer of Christmas quickly disintegrate into reality TV without the prizes?---me
Woke today and decided to do laundry. Big mistake. Huge. Never put laundry in before the caffeine super craving is satisfied. Moved yesterday's washed closed to the dryer and hit the minutes. Started new laundry. Made coffee. Showered, singing, happy to have another day off and a 50% Starbucks cafe discount. Life is good.
Have cuddle time with the cupcake daughter. Nice, happy. Decided to try and discover America again in the form of a kitchen counter and living room rug. Both still intact, the rumor that they were missing was totally a lie. Went to switch the wash, opened the dryer.
HMMM. Cold. Crap. Really? And the DH thought the fact the clothes were taking longer to dry was because I suddenly forgot how to wash clothes after 18 total/16 happy years of marriage. No, really, the heating element went.
Dryer number 4. Vacuum number 6. Stove parts in the hundreds. Weird car breakdowns in the thousands(whoever heard of the locking mechanism for the ignition going? How about the axle?). We always have the best of luck in the days following Christmas. It's like Santa really leaves us a new gift and it isnt' winning the lottery. Here we go again. Jeesh.
Oh well. Who needs towels to dry ourselves with? Just turn the heat up and streak. Or clean undies? Isn't commando all the rage? It's vacation week, so jammies are perfect attire. Let's not talk about the kids sheets. I am sure the health department doesn't really need to know about the stench coming from the vicinty of Wild Child's bed again. And I am sure leftover Christmas cookie crumbs mixed with homemade eggnog really won't stain. I hope.
I don't work again until Tuesday. Can you send some quarters by then? Or better yet, can I come have some Christmas cheer while I borrow your dryer?
Happy Day.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
The Christmas List
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
When I was about 12, I desperately wanted pierced ears. All my friends already had them, along with the requisite 12 pairs of earrings and matching necklaces. I was this skinny girl with red hair and freckles and no visible curves, while my blond-haired, green eyed flirtatious best friend was already turning heads with her figure and clothes. I just wanted to fit in like all the other girls in junior high. So when my parents asked for our Christmas lists, I wrote in very large letters across the top "PIERCED EARS."
But it was not to be. My mother's ears bled terribly when she got her ears pierced, so she wanted to delay this possibility with me as long as possible. So no earrings again. I was so crushed.
My closest brother Joe, was doing odd jobs in the neighborhood for one family and making some serious spending money. Probably 40 bucks a week in 1974. He saved his money up, and on Christmas Eve, at age 14, walked the 2 miles into the local hardware store, Arthur's. There weren't any Walmart's or close malls at that point in time. Arthur's had a little bit of everything, including jewelry. He got me a pair of clip on Santa earrings. He also bought an electric blanket for my Mom, because "she was always complaining she was cold." He walked in a pretty good snowstorm and bought the stuff for that night.
I remember opening the earrings and being so happy. I wore them everyday, even when we went back to school on January 6. I was just so ecstatic over the earrings. It was really sweet that he did that. I wore them every Christmas for many years until they fell apart. I don't have them anymore, but when I do my day-after Christmas shopping like I did today, and I see the marked down Christmas jewelry, it always makes me smile in remembrance.
Joe was so happy working for that family. They treated him great and just loved him. The Mom made cookies just for him and give him great snacks. I remember how fondly he talked about them. He just loved all the attention. Years later, when the drugs finally over took my brother and his life was over too soon, that family showed up and talked about what a great boy he was. It was such a comfort and joy to hear. 20 years later, it still sticks in my brain.
I spent a lot of time growing up at my friends' homes and having the Moms show me great love and food. Even my blond-haired, green eyed best friend fed me many a night, even though it was often dinner number two for me. Kathleen's Mom. Sheila's Mom. Elizabeth's. I just loved how they opened their homes to kids and fed them and laughed, so I try to do that in my home today. My DH would rather not have the noise and mess, but I just ignore him.
Tonight Wild Child has Soccer Boy over. I had clementines in the house one time last year, and Soccer Boy managed to eat a whole box of them, leaving the peels in the box. It just made me smile. Someday I will run into Soccer Boy the man and joke about who ate all the clementines.
So tonight, I ran out and bought a new box of clementines just because. And smiled and laughed. I tried to tell him he could only have 2. But of course, he snuck back a half hour later and took 2 more.
I don't mind the noise of the kids, because I hope it makes them feel the house is theirs and that we will always be there for them and their friends. I like to know what they are up to, at least for the night. I am sure they are pulling the wool over my eyes at times, but at least I have them close by to see it.
Showering them with love may be all that I have at times. But least they have that to carry them into adulthood. And if this helps them reach it, so be it.
When I was about 12, I desperately wanted pierced ears. All my friends already had them, along with the requisite 12 pairs of earrings and matching necklaces. I was this skinny girl with red hair and freckles and no visible curves, while my blond-haired, green eyed flirtatious best friend was already turning heads with her figure and clothes. I just wanted to fit in like all the other girls in junior high. So when my parents asked for our Christmas lists, I wrote in very large letters across the top "PIERCED EARS."
But it was not to be. My mother's ears bled terribly when she got her ears pierced, so she wanted to delay this possibility with me as long as possible. So no earrings again. I was so crushed.
My closest brother Joe, was doing odd jobs in the neighborhood for one family and making some serious spending money. Probably 40 bucks a week in 1974. He saved his money up, and on Christmas Eve, at age 14, walked the 2 miles into the local hardware store, Arthur's. There weren't any Walmart's or close malls at that point in time. Arthur's had a little bit of everything, including jewelry. He got me a pair of clip on Santa earrings. He also bought an electric blanket for my Mom, because "she was always complaining she was cold." He walked in a pretty good snowstorm and bought the stuff for that night.
I remember opening the earrings and being so happy. I wore them everyday, even when we went back to school on January 6. I was just so ecstatic over the earrings. It was really sweet that he did that. I wore them every Christmas for many years until they fell apart. I don't have them anymore, but when I do my day-after Christmas shopping like I did today, and I see the marked down Christmas jewelry, it always makes me smile in remembrance.
Joe was so happy working for that family. They treated him great and just loved him. The Mom made cookies just for him and give him great snacks. I remember how fondly he talked about them. He just loved all the attention. Years later, when the drugs finally over took my brother and his life was over too soon, that family showed up and talked about what a great boy he was. It was such a comfort and joy to hear. 20 years later, it still sticks in my brain.
I spent a lot of time growing up at my friends' homes and having the Moms show me great love and food. Even my blond-haired, green eyed best friend fed me many a night, even though it was often dinner number two for me. Kathleen's Mom. Sheila's Mom. Elizabeth's. I just loved how they opened their homes to kids and fed them and laughed, so I try to do that in my home today. My DH would rather not have the noise and mess, but I just ignore him.
Tonight Wild Child has Soccer Boy over. I had clementines in the house one time last year, and Soccer Boy managed to eat a whole box of them, leaving the peels in the box. It just made me smile. Someday I will run into Soccer Boy the man and joke about who ate all the clementines.
So tonight, I ran out and bought a new box of clementines just because. And smiled and laughed. I tried to tell him he could only have 2. But of course, he snuck back a half hour later and took 2 more.
I don't mind the noise of the kids, because I hope it makes them feel the house is theirs and that we will always be there for them and their friends. I like to know what they are up to, at least for the night. I am sure they are pulling the wool over my eyes at times, but at least I have them close by to see it.
Showering them with love may be all that I have at times. But least they have that to carry them into adulthood. And if this helps them reach it, so be it.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Cookie Day
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same.
Elbert Hubbard
My Mom always filled the house with love and cookies at Christmas. Not just a plate of cookies, mind you. But dozens and dozens of 10 different kinds of cookies. Italian Fig Cookies. Mexican Wedding Cakes. Peanut Butter Blossoms. Cutouts. Leuberkiens. Hello Dollies. Rum Balls.
Each recipe was doubled or tripled to make 10 or 12 dozen at least. Baking began after Thanksgiving and was complete by her birthday on December 12. Everyday brought another treat, and we'd get some samples. But most of the cookies went in our cookies closet, which was really the closet by the front door that had no heat. It stored all the cookies perfectly, at around 45 degrees. We'd sneak out a take a handful whenever we could, but especially when my parents napped after dinner. Mom didn't want all the Christmas cookies to be gone before company came, so she'd make a hold over cookies for us:
12 dozen Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies.
These cookies were open season and we could eat all we wanted. If she was lucky, we would chow threw them and leave the Christmas cookies alone.
So as a grown-up (okay, not really, I just pretend) I continue on with this tradition. I force myself to cut back to around 6 kinds, at about 10 dozen each. I have to try and just live with what I can crunch out in a weekend.
This year, my friend the Queen asked if we could do a cookie day together. I don't have any sisters, so this was a special treat to me. I always wanted someone to bake with again. I did it a few times with friends in my 20's (B.C.--before children) and it was a blast. So I looked forward to a cookie day at the Palace (the queen's nest).
So, the questions started. Want me to pick up supplies and you just give me some money? Sure. Okay, what kinds will be make?. Well, whatever. What do you mean, whatever? Well, I'm not really a cookie person. I only make one kind. So, whatever you make is fine.
This should have been my clue "I'm not really a cookie person." (<--major foreshadowing).
So I stopped at 2 different stores, and bought 4 bags of stuff. Then I asked if she had a stand-up mixer? No, just a hand mixer. Hand? Forget it. I am not breaking my hand. So I loaded up the 40 pund Kitchenaid. Then I went to look for my cookie tubs. I couldn't find them anywhere. Oh well, let's just go.
Arrived at the Queens'. Brought in the ton of stuff. And started. Mixed the dough for the pastry with nut filling Croatian cookies. This dough needs to set, so I had to make it first. As I started to mix and pour, the Queen is getting antsy. I don't know why. I am putting stuff away as I go. I am washing as I go. I am only in the one area. I know she's and anal retentive neat kitchen freak, so I am trying to guess what I am doing that is driving her up a wall. She's trying to be what too nice and not tell me, but I can tell by the 2 smokes in 15 minutes that I am driving her absolutely nuts.
Finally I asked. What. What do you mean what? What am I doing that bothers you? The dishwasher. What about the dishwasher? I am not using it right now. Well, you are getting flour all over it and all over the counter. Well, of course I am. It's a dough. I have to mix it, and then I have to knead it on the counter. Well, there's flour in the crevices of the dishwasher. Oh, sorry. Move out of the way. I have to put tinfoil over it or you will drive me nuts. Ok.
So the dishwasher got a bib. And the queen spent the day washing up after me. Now, I know I have to wash as I go and I did. But the Queen takes the cleaning while baking to an extreme. I mean, you do have to use things to bake with. And as I put cookies in the oven, and waited for them to come out, she would wash up the bowl and mixing cups I just used. Okay, not a problem. Cookies would come out, and I would use the metal spatula to take one pan off the sheet to cool, while sheet 2 was still in the over for a couple more minutes. I would take the hot cookies off, and move some cool cookies to a container to make room. Then, I would go get the next cookie sheet.
And the spatula would be gone. Missing. No where to be seen.
Did you take the spatula again? Yes. Did you wash the spatula again. Yes, it was gross. But I was still using it. I know, just get a new one out. But I don't want a new one each time, I just want to keep using the same one. But the Queen would keep taking it. And then the oven mits. I would set them on the counter, waiting for the next batch, and she would put them away. And so on, and so on.
Baking with a clean freak is hard. It's just a lot more work to keep getting the stuff out. Again and again. And then she picked on some of my cookies. Well, my family won't like these. Ouch. But we did manage to make her husband's Aunt Marge's cookies. Can't quite get the shape or texture, but they tasted excellent. So the King was pleased. And now he yells when I am on the phone "Come over and bake some cookies. No scratch that. Come over with cookies. No scratch that. Come and LEAVE some cookies. "
It's so nice to be loved.
And for Christmas, please send the Queen some tinfoil for her dishwasher. And some more dish soap. I am pretty sure I used it up when I was there. Or, just to be fun, spill some flour on her floor!
The Atomic Bomb made less noise then the Queen when you get flour on her flour.
But I love her anyway.
A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same.
Elbert Hubbard
My Mom always filled the house with love and cookies at Christmas. Not just a plate of cookies, mind you. But dozens and dozens of 10 different kinds of cookies. Italian Fig Cookies. Mexican Wedding Cakes. Peanut Butter Blossoms. Cutouts. Leuberkiens. Hello Dollies. Rum Balls.
Each recipe was doubled or tripled to make 10 or 12 dozen at least. Baking began after Thanksgiving and was complete by her birthday on December 12. Everyday brought another treat, and we'd get some samples. But most of the cookies went in our cookies closet, which was really the closet by the front door that had no heat. It stored all the cookies perfectly, at around 45 degrees. We'd sneak out a take a handful whenever we could, but especially when my parents napped after dinner. Mom didn't want all the Christmas cookies to be gone before company came, so she'd make a hold over cookies for us:
12 dozen Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies.
These cookies were open season and we could eat all we wanted. If she was lucky, we would chow threw them and leave the Christmas cookies alone.
So as a grown-up (okay, not really, I just pretend) I continue on with this tradition. I force myself to cut back to around 6 kinds, at about 10 dozen each. I have to try and just live with what I can crunch out in a weekend.
This year, my friend the Queen asked if we could do a cookie day together. I don't have any sisters, so this was a special treat to me. I always wanted someone to bake with again. I did it a few times with friends in my 20's (B.C.--before children) and it was a blast. So I looked forward to a cookie day at the Palace (the queen's nest).
So, the questions started. Want me to pick up supplies and you just give me some money? Sure. Okay, what kinds will be make?. Well, whatever. What do you mean, whatever? Well, I'm not really a cookie person. I only make one kind. So, whatever you make is fine.
This should have been my clue "I'm not really a cookie person." (<--major foreshadowing).
So I stopped at 2 different stores, and bought 4 bags of stuff. Then I asked if she had a stand-up mixer? No, just a hand mixer. Hand? Forget it. I am not breaking my hand. So I loaded up the 40 pund Kitchenaid. Then I went to look for my cookie tubs. I couldn't find them anywhere. Oh well, let's just go.
Arrived at the Queens'. Brought in the ton of stuff. And started. Mixed the dough for the pastry with nut filling Croatian cookies. This dough needs to set, so I had to make it first. As I started to mix and pour, the Queen is getting antsy. I don't know why. I am putting stuff away as I go. I am washing as I go. I am only in the one area. I know she's and anal retentive neat kitchen freak, so I am trying to guess what I am doing that is driving her up a wall. She's trying to be what too nice and not tell me, but I can tell by the 2 smokes in 15 minutes that I am driving her absolutely nuts.
Finally I asked. What. What do you mean what? What am I doing that bothers you? The dishwasher. What about the dishwasher? I am not using it right now. Well, you are getting flour all over it and all over the counter. Well, of course I am. It's a dough. I have to mix it, and then I have to knead it on the counter. Well, there's flour in the crevices of the dishwasher. Oh, sorry. Move out of the way. I have to put tinfoil over it or you will drive me nuts. Ok.
So the dishwasher got a bib. And the queen spent the day washing up after me. Now, I know I have to wash as I go and I did. But the Queen takes the cleaning while baking to an extreme. I mean, you do have to use things to bake with. And as I put cookies in the oven, and waited for them to come out, she would wash up the bowl and mixing cups I just used. Okay, not a problem. Cookies would come out, and I would use the metal spatula to take one pan off the sheet to cool, while sheet 2 was still in the over for a couple more minutes. I would take the hot cookies off, and move some cool cookies to a container to make room. Then, I would go get the next cookie sheet.
And the spatula would be gone. Missing. No where to be seen.
Did you take the spatula again? Yes. Did you wash the spatula again. Yes, it was gross. But I was still using it. I know, just get a new one out. But I don't want a new one each time, I just want to keep using the same one. But the Queen would keep taking it. And then the oven mits. I would set them on the counter, waiting for the next batch, and she would put them away. And so on, and so on.
Baking with a clean freak is hard. It's just a lot more work to keep getting the stuff out. Again and again. And then she picked on some of my cookies. Well, my family won't like these. Ouch. But we did manage to make her husband's Aunt Marge's cookies. Can't quite get the shape or texture, but they tasted excellent. So the King was pleased. And now he yells when I am on the phone "Come over and bake some cookies. No scratch that. Come over with cookies. No scratch that. Come and LEAVE some cookies. "
It's so nice to be loved.
And for Christmas, please send the Queen some tinfoil for her dishwasher. And some more dish soap. I am pretty sure I used it up when I was there. Or, just to be fun, spill some flour on her floor!
The Atomic Bomb made less noise then the Queen when you get flour on her flour.
But I love her anyway.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Yuletide Joy
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
The wells of joy are a little thin this year. No real reason either. Everyone is healthy. Everyone is working. The day to day problems of kids growing older and Mom's losing their sanity still abound. Money is tighter then ever. Planning is worse than ever. God took care of most of the problems in the form of overtime this fall and in the form of a Christmas job. And we also balanced by cutting back on the mindless Christmas shopping. Bought smaller. Bought smarter.
So today, when I asked the twins to give me something to feel joy about, they responded thoughtfully. We're all on vacation tomorrow from school and work. (Yeah!) And we can all be together next week and do a jammie day (Awesome!).
And the dog isn't farty today. (Nice!)
It doesn't get any better then this.
The wells of joy are a little thin this year. No real reason either. Everyone is healthy. Everyone is working. The day to day problems of kids growing older and Mom's losing their sanity still abound. Money is tighter then ever. Planning is worse than ever. God took care of most of the problems in the form of overtime this fall and in the form of a Christmas job. And we also balanced by cutting back on the mindless Christmas shopping. Bought smaller. Bought smarter.
So today, when I asked the twins to give me something to feel joy about, they responded thoughtfully. We're all on vacation tomorrow from school and work. (Yeah!) And we can all be together next week and do a jammie day (Awesome!).
And the dog isn't farty today. (Nice!)
It doesn't get any better then this.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
The Water Works
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
I love sappy stories, always have. Tonight I watched the sappy Christmas movie of the night, "The Note" on the Hallmark Channel. A plane crashes and a Dad writes a last minute note to his child "All is Forgiven." The movie tells the story of a columnist searching for the recipient of the note. Pure modern day TV, all wrapped up in 120 minutes minus 100 minutes of commercials.
I of course totally relate to any human interest story with buckets of tears, or "the Water Works" as my boy twin calls it. He simply watches me and calls, "Ok Mom, here comes the water works" and he goes and gets me kleenex. (Mom, why are they called Kleenex? They do not clean and they are not clean when you finish using them.) His twin sister called out from the computer when he went to get the tissues, "And give her a hug." Nice. God's answer to tears, the twins.
The best thing in the world is when muffin boy and cupcake girl surround me and yell "Twin Hug" while they both grab on. I try to store these moments for the future years when the hormones hit and I suddenly become the plague when it comes to hugs. I know it's coming, but still, I dread it. I bank every hug for future withdrawals.
The water works thing? It came on about 4Th grade. I was reading "The Red Pony." Really enjoyed the book, but you get to the end, and the horse dies. I burst out crying, right there in the middle of the living room. My Dad asked what was wrong, and I yelled, "The horse died." From then on, whenever I cried at something sappy, it became "Oh, the horse died."
Reading that book was the first time I really felt something from reading a book. From then on, I was hooked. I was transported instantly into another world, a world of love and tears, hugs and fears. All wrapped up, and dealt with, nice and simple. I grew up in a emotionally cold household. No hugs. No kisses. No I love yous. Books game me all that. Later, as video changed our ability to re watch our favorite movies whenever we wanted, it was movies that stirred me and helped me release my emotions. I learned to cope through books and movies.
And now, when the water works hit, I am sharing the books all over again with the twins, when I tell them "Oh, the horse died."
I love sappy stories, always have. Tonight I watched the sappy Christmas movie of the night, "The Note" on the Hallmark Channel. A plane crashes and a Dad writes a last minute note to his child "All is Forgiven." The movie tells the story of a columnist searching for the recipient of the note. Pure modern day TV, all wrapped up in 120 minutes minus 100 minutes of commercials.
I of course totally relate to any human interest story with buckets of tears, or "the Water Works" as my boy twin calls it. He simply watches me and calls, "Ok Mom, here comes the water works" and he goes and gets me kleenex. (Mom, why are they called Kleenex? They do not clean and they are not clean when you finish using them.) His twin sister called out from the computer when he went to get the tissues, "And give her a hug." Nice. God's answer to tears, the twins.
The best thing in the world is when muffin boy and cupcake girl surround me and yell "Twin Hug" while they both grab on. I try to store these moments for the future years when the hormones hit and I suddenly become the plague when it comes to hugs. I know it's coming, but still, I dread it. I bank every hug for future withdrawals.
The water works thing? It came on about 4Th grade. I was reading "The Red Pony." Really enjoyed the book, but you get to the end, and the horse dies. I burst out crying, right there in the middle of the living room. My Dad asked what was wrong, and I yelled, "The horse died." From then on, whenever I cried at something sappy, it became "Oh, the horse died."
Reading that book was the first time I really felt something from reading a book. From then on, I was hooked. I was transported instantly into another world, a world of love and tears, hugs and fears. All wrapped up, and dealt with, nice and simple. I grew up in a emotionally cold household. No hugs. No kisses. No I love yous. Books game me all that. Later, as video changed our ability to re watch our favorite movies whenever we wanted, it was movies that stirred me and helped me release my emotions. I learned to cope through books and movies.
And now, when the water works hit, I am sharing the books all over again with the twins, when I tell them "Oh, the horse died."
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Self Talk
Life Balance: a feat we try to achieve while searching to be the best that we can we, while simultaneously raising our children to do the same. This is the equilibrium in our inner life force whereby our heartbeat matches the divine force that exists all around us. When this life balance peaks, our sense of peace, joy, love and wisdom act as one with our very souls.
By the time our kids reach adulthood, we will have repeated the same 10 things over a million times each. Hang up your coat. Eat your vegetables. Put your dirty dishes in the sink. Bring your laundry to the laundry room. Clean your room. Stop beating your sister/brother. Don't watch so much TV. Be nice. Smile.
Have you seen the YouTube video about the things Moms's say in 24 hours?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxT5NwQUtVM
It's set to the William Tell Overture. Hilarious. Very true.
Unfortunately, it's the things you say only once that sink in. Somehow, even in the age of 21st century technology, we don't know how to hotwire our brains to override any bad things people say about us. Or the ugly messages that slip out in the heat of anger. Or the days when we didn't do our best and get belittled instead of encouraged.
I think one of the most powerful things we can teach our children is how to talk to ourselves, how to encourage ourselves, how to shake off bad days. It's not something people really talk about, but self talk really sets the tone for our entire day. We repeat messages in our brains, and eventually, they become hotwired inside us, so that we don't even have to say them outloud anymore.
Self talk messages tend to be bad things, but we can flip them around and make them mini rewards to ourselves. We can teach ourselves to go with the flow this way, instead of getting upset when we can't have what we want right away. Don't holler about the traffic jam, use it as time to list your 10 best friends in elementary school, or think of your top 5 funniest movies of all time. Someone spreading bad rumors about your in school or at work? Think of the most ridiculous work situations you've experienced and get a laugh about it again.
Challenge yourself to make some funny lists and remember funny things today when you had a bad moment. See if if doesn't feel like a hug. Then, share the story with a friend and make them laugh today.
We all need the happy self talk and funny stories. Go spread some today.
By the time our kids reach adulthood, we will have repeated the same 10 things over a million times each. Hang up your coat. Eat your vegetables. Put your dirty dishes in the sink. Bring your laundry to the laundry room. Clean your room. Stop beating your sister/brother. Don't watch so much TV. Be nice. Smile.
Have you seen the YouTube video about the things Moms's say in 24 hours?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxT5NwQUtVM
It's set to the William Tell Overture. Hilarious. Very true.
Unfortunately, it's the things you say only once that sink in. Somehow, even in the age of 21st century technology, we don't know how to hotwire our brains to override any bad things people say about us. Or the ugly messages that slip out in the heat of anger. Or the days when we didn't do our best and get belittled instead of encouraged.
I think one of the most powerful things we can teach our children is how to talk to ourselves, how to encourage ourselves, how to shake off bad days. It's not something people really talk about, but self talk really sets the tone for our entire day. We repeat messages in our brains, and eventually, they become hotwired inside us, so that we don't even have to say them outloud anymore.
Self talk messages tend to be bad things, but we can flip them around and make them mini rewards to ourselves. We can teach ourselves to go with the flow this way, instead of getting upset when we can't have what we want right away. Don't holler about the traffic jam, use it as time to list your 10 best friends in elementary school, or think of your top 5 funniest movies of all time. Someone spreading bad rumors about your in school or at work? Think of the most ridiculous work situations you've experienced and get a laugh about it again.
Challenge yourself to make some funny lists and remember funny things today when you had a bad moment. See if if doesn't feel like a hug. Then, share the story with a friend and make them laugh today.
We all need the happy self talk and funny stories. Go spread some today.
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