Getting my groove on

I don't have to substitute teach until 11 am today so I went to the community center and got a good work out in.  And here is a little secret...my favorite workout is dancing!!  I go into one of the side rooms, the one with all the mirrors and I dance my butt off!!  I am currently taking a Zumba class on Wednesday afternoons.  I do enjoy it but... I have awful feet.  My big toe joint hurts like crazy when I run or jump alot.  This I believe is a direct result of keeping clogs on my feet since 1974. So what are my options?  Plant my feet on the floor and shake my bootie, wave my arms, bob my head and get my groove on like any white girl you have ever seen on the dance floor!!  Oh, it is a scary sight!  But in my head, I am the hottest chick on the dance floor in the most happening club there is.  I have the radio blasting tunes and I am getting my sweat on.  I dance for 3 songs.  Then when the news comes on, I do my sit ups and weights.  Then back to the dance floor for 3 more songs. Great work out for me!!

Lately I have found myself in a frustrated state of mind.  Just not happy all the way through.  Like I have a clog or something keeping my joy just out of reach.  It is easiest for me to blame this funky feeling on my daughters.  They are so completely irritating at times. Fighting with each other, as teenagers do!  But what I believe the problem is, is that I am happiest when I have worked out. Working out for me shakes things loose in my head and heart.  Me not working out equals angry, frustrated, emotional, over all poopy mood.  When I have worked out I am happy, clear, open, energetic, over all positive mood.

I need to make sure I work out more so my daughters can survive on this earth with out too much emotional damage from my fits of rage!!  Adult temper tantrums are so very unattractive!!
I gotta get to work.
Have a great day and get a dance in when you can!

May is like December...witout the gifts!

Wrapping up the school year, end of the year parties, end of the year recitals, music, dance, softball, art shows, zoom zoom!!

So busy living it, no time to write about it!!

Life's energy is the flowing water over the creative water wheel in me.  I envision my little mill with creeping Ivy, built of stone with a thatch roof.  On the side is the wooden wheel, turning at a steady pace, rotating the beam that grinds the wheat.  There are days and weeks in winter when the pace is moderate and there are days in the summer when there is just a trickle.  But then in December and May, the water is rushing and gushing, the wheel is just rollin'!! I have a ton of wheat at the moment and it is still pouring in!!

I am teaching 7th grade Social Studies and Language Arts.  I have only subbed at this school a few times.  A fight broke out by 8:30 in my classroom.  The principal came.   Those students were removed.  I tried to move on with the lesson.  It didn't work.  The class took over imitating how I acted when the fight broke out.  They were dead on, had me down perfectly.  I was humiliated and so I walked into the next classroom and told that teacher to call the principal.  Order was restored and I again took over teaching and the class ended smoothly.  Whew, I am worn out and it is only 10:45!!  I have a break right now and you would think the office or someone would come to check on me, find out my side of the story.  But no...once again I am not the center of the universe.

The office did just call.  My heart leaped at the thought they were calling to check on me.  No, they want me to cover another class during my break... and I am off...

Got a birthday coming up...how did I get 49 years old so fast!!

Wrap your arms around yourself and feel a big hug from me.

Spring is in the air...fuel is in my tank...begin the creative frenzy!

I have so many topics, passionate-close to my heart -want to share them so bad it is killing me subjects to discuss...or what do I call these articles that I write? Subjects? Articles?...sounds like my blog is a magazine...maybe it is...I need to add more pictures, then.  Note to self: add more photos to this blog.


Anyway, I have 5 different topics listed in my drafts of articles that I have started...just quick notes to pin down the idea, that later I can expand on and polish up before I post them here.  Until they post, I feel I am carrying around a hand full of balloons.  Some are bigger than others, some rise higher, some are definitely brighter, all attached strings held tightly in my fist.  It takes energy to keep up with these balloons because one wrong move and BANG!  There it went and I can't get that one back.  I can get one like it, but it won't ever be able to replace the original.  If I could just find the time to complete the article, I can let go of one of these dang balloons!

But my time is fragmented. 5 minutes here, 10 minutes there...

In the midst of trying to write, (which I love, I love writing not trying to write.  I don't like the trying to write, the frustration of carving out time is exhausting), in the midst of all the juggling of words, I have been wheeling my pliers and cranking out some special pieces of jewelry.  In getting ready for the craft show last weekend, I got busy making the standard fair. I always begin from the basic 'sit and create' position.  I breathe in and out, praying something new will drift into my studio and land gently on the black velvet cloth on my bench.  While I am waiting, I can make some pretty goofed up stuff.  You only have to glance at the confusion that covers my bench to see all the many directions and rabbit trails my creative journey has taken me.  But eventually, in the midst of some bent 22 gauge silver wire and amazonite stones, the designs begin to unfurl.  Slowly, like the my spring Hastas, breaking through the earth and reaching for the sun, a new combonation of colors will appear.  The turn of the silver wire will resonate with something in me and I will pray for a steady hand to make another just like it, you know, so the earrings will match.  The engine starts revving up, my heart rate starts to climb and I begin to see what is around the bend.  I am infused with new inspiration for my jewelry.  The designs are coming easier.  The positive reception I receive from a first time customer will fuel my tank for another spin around the work bench.  And suddenly I am in the 'jewelry making mode'.  In the land of silver and pearls, turquoise and coral, spacers and pliers, I am having a blessed spring.  The balloons will have to be patient.



After the Christmas mass production of jewelry, I don't darken the doors of my studio for a few months. To start making jewelry again in the spring is like is like having to go visit an old friend.  One you haven't seen in a while.  Not sure you have anything in common anymore.  What on earth will we find to talk about?  Why am I even stopping by?  Ugh!!  Well, here I go. Knock-Knock.  The door opens and there she stands, smiling in anticipation of seeing my familiar face.  I can't help but smile in return.  And after sitting with this old friend for a couple hours, it is like we saw each other yesterday.  We are right back finishing each other sentences, laughing at old inside jokes we shared in days past.  It feels wonderful being in the place, breathing in and out, laughing and enjoying each other immensely.  Why was I so apprehensive to make this visit?  Maybe because I have a new friend.  My new friend brings me balloons.





Dear God,

Please tell Aunt Sally I said hello and that I love her.

Love, me

Wondering thoughts

I am busy this week, I'm making jewelry. Craft show is this Saturday and another in a couple weeks. I need to get some of my pretties out there to sell. I sabotage myself by not taking photos of my designs. The rings I am making are so cool and very unique; the earrings are crisp and simple. Spring colors. I push myself against the wall to make the jewelry, not leaving enough time to take photos. Perhaps I could post them here and people could order them. Hmmm, there is a concept. No one has ever mentioned that to me before. Sarcasm. Pooh, I hate it, I am sorry I used it here. Forgive me. Back to making jewelry...




I will return here next week and write something interesting and very funny. I miss it here in this place of words. Now I must return the land of silver and stones, pliers and pearls. I will swirl up something beautiful just for you, my friend.



Rain please come and wash us clean.



God, please take care of Sally. Wrap here in love and peace. I think I will be missing her soon.



The season of giving myself away is slowly moving into a season of saving myself for me and the ones I hold dear. I love when the seasons change. New beginnings, old endings. Round with soft edges, rolling down my path.



Good to see you here.

My Summer Art Camp!!

Please scroll to the bottom of this page to see the flier for art camp...  Oh, it is going to be such fun!!

Staying home with my kids when they were small...

 I was talking to a young mom the other day, she had 2 beautiful children under 5 years old. She shared with me how she was struggling with her 'perfect life'. Her husband had a successful career and she was putting her career on hold to stay home with the children.  She was feeling some pain and sadness and confused about why. I understood where she was coming from . I remember, oh so well, when my girls were small, how really difficult and lonely and very private all those feelings were for me. They were swirling around my head and heart with a dash of sadness and hurt.  Mostly I remember feeling very lonely.  I was very lonely for my husband. I can remember watching Beauty and the Beast(Disney) with my girls when they were very small, and just bawling my eyes out, my heart just ached.

When I was a stay home mom, it was very difficult for me to find compassion for that tough period of my life.(difficult to the tenth power!). No one wanted to hear me vent or complain about how tough it is to stay home with babies and toddlers. “Girl, you don't have to go to work, please tell me you are not complaining!” When my 2 girls were very young, there was a complexity to the emotions I wrestled with. On one hand was this huge privilege I was living. Not working outside the home, wow, how lucky am I! I get to raise my children myself. I felt I was living out my dream, we made choices and sacrifices so I could stay home and raise our children. And on the other hand, was this frustration and guilt because the days of diapers and spit up were not always days spent in the park picking clovers and attending tea parties with Pooh. I loved all of those days, tea parties and the spit up. I loved all of it. I loved feeling like I was doing a good job at this privileged position I was given . Staying home with my children was a wonderful gift, I look back and treasure everyday I had with them. But in the midst of it, it was hard work, it was emotional, and it was lonely.

One adjustment that I struggled with as a new stay home mom was my feeling of self worth. When I was working in the 'out of the home' work place, my performance was evaluated by my boss. I always loved my performance reviews. I had this wonderful opportunity to hear all the things I was doing right and even what I was doing wrong or needed improvement on. (Usually, I needed to be a bit more organized, imagine that!) These reviews were a time of evaluation, like report cards. I would receive a tangible record of my accomplishments. Raising children doesn’t come with one of these. There is no report card or job review. There is no file that I can tuck away all my achievements, a file I can present later to be reviewed by my boss. I have no review, no boss, no chance of promotion, and definitely no raise in the future. So where is the measuring stick for my self worth? Could I look to my husband for praise of a job well done?

My husband did not want to hear me whine about my day of changing diapers and grocery store challenges. Me: "Eliza had a huge fit in the grocery store today, all over some silly grapes and Rachel had a blow-out in her diaper, I mean, it was awful!! It went up her back and reeked to hight heaven!"  My lovely husband  would hear: "Blah blah blah, Eliza, blah blah, Rachel",  and maybe "grapes". I would get a look from him like, "you are not complaining are you?  Because I am busting my butt out there working so you can stay home and live your dream!!". He just wanted to fix the problem. My husband was great at fixing things but a little short on compassion. I just wanted a little compassion.
At this time in my life I learned the value of a really good play group. I found a few really good mom's that I leaned on for support. They gave me excellent job reviews, and still do!! The value of girl friends never meant so much to me as when my children were very little. These few, very wise and trusted women provided the air for me to breath through these tough years. I will forever be in debt to these women for the space they allowed me to be angry, hurt, frustrated and confused about motherhood...and wifehood!

Finding a good therapist was also a life saver for me. There was a time when I felt so crazy with loneliness, I thought I wanted out of my marriage. It took a couple tries to find a good counselor for me, but the survival of my marriage was well worth all my efforts. The best advise we received in couseling, the one thing that brought us closer as husband and wife, is telling him what I needed him to say to me. As ridiculous as that sounds, it worked wonders.

My husband loves to fix what ever problem I am having.  It is what men do, they fix things.  But I don’t want him to fix it , I want him to listen to me, and support me in my ability to find my own solutions. I want him to do this because he believes I am smart and capable and funny and cute and HOT!!  So, I explained what words I needed to hear from him...these words: "honey, that sounds really tough, I am sure you are going to find a way to work that out", "Sweetie, I don’t know how you do what you do!!  You are amazing!! ", "You are so smart to figure that out, way to go!", "You are beautiful and I love that you are my partner in this family. Thank you for working so hard for us!".   Aren't those some great phrases!! Putting these words in his dialogue with me made a HUGE difference in my attitude, in my joy and in my LOVE!   Also what we found was the same things I want to hear from him, he wanted to hear from me. 

When we first started this scripted dialogue, it wasn't smooth, it felt a bit forced, but we stuck with it. Now these words have become our love language!!  We LOVE encouraging words spoken to each other, I love hearing how great I am and I love telling him how much I appreciate all his hard work.  Now, let me tell you, there is plenty of crazy between all this but these words are the glue that keeps us close. 

Keeping the love alive is work. It is especially difficult when the kids are really small and there are diapers, and well-check visits, and chicken nuggets, and weight that wont come off, and no time to work out, and ear infections, and sleepless nights and no time for a shower today, whew! Ugh, and now he has that look in his eye...Man! Can't I get a break?!!  Maybe now is not the best time to tell him my check book is out of ballance for the zillionth time...

So I try to remember that nothing is permanent, time is moving forward, things never stay the same. Whether you want them to or not.

My daughters are 11 and 13 now.  Long gone are the diaper blow-outs, the crayon on the walls has been painted over and ear infections are way in the past. In their stead are cell phones, make up and computer privilages.  But on this leg of my journey, my husband is my partner, he is my home, he is my heart.  I am not lonely for him anymore.  He tells me what I need to hear, and I tell him I will see him later tonight!!

Joy and every blessing,

Patty

What is my strategy?  I love that word and the power it gives me to find some control in my life.  The words for this piece are still shiifting around, finding their order in my head and in my journal.  I will post my composition on my strategy hopefully Monday, unless I am called into to teach...I might just say no.  Oh, how decadent, like calling in sick when I am not really sick, just feeling the strong need to write!!

Now I must prepare my Sunday School lesson for those 8th thru 12th graders...
Matthew 10:39, Jesus said you must lose your life to find it. How are we living that out?  Oh, this is going to be good!

Middle school and why they are so tired....

Today I am teaching middle schoolers about Ludwig Von Beethoven.  He is a very interesting man, but it is the students  I find facinating! In first period we had a lively discussion about why, at this age, kids stay up all hours of the night.  We discuss the reasoning that it is late at night, when the house gets quiet, that we have the luxury of running many of our thoughts through our minds.  You know the thoughts, ones too complex and confusing to try to sort out during math class or while unloading the dish washer.  "Between classes someone said something to me.  I want to figure out what he meant.  I can't in the midst of all the confusion in my day.  I need the solitude of my room after everone is asleep, to sort it out".  It is at this late hour, in the quiet room, music blasting on the ipod, that we have the opportunity to exhail all that we have kept inside us all day.  Whew...now I can breathe.  So in this place, going to sleep is not often the goal.  We write songs, poetry, text, blog, twitter, and pray.  In this sactuary we empty our pockets of all the treasures we have uncovered and collected throughout the day.  And in these evening hours that we spend alone, we decide what we will carry forward into the next day, what we will put in a drawer for another time, and what we will throw in the trash. "I believe I am going to make the ball team, I am not sure I want to go to that party, and I know I am not the name he called me". 

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I die before I wake, please don't let my parents hear whats on my ipod!"
Amen.


Shayla has found her way into my class this hour.  She would rather be in the band room, than in the study hall she is assigned to this period.  I would love to believe she is here because she likes my company and our animated discussions about her future in the WNBA.  But I only have to look around this room of musicians to realize it is the talented students in this class that draw her to this place.
My lunch break is almost up...more later.

I am fast approaching 50 years of age!! Oh-My-Word!!!!!

Below is a journal entry I recorded a little over a year ago.

Journal
Saturday, January 17, 2010

Leigh is here visiting with his boys. Today , after Sam’s basket ball game, we went to the gym to work out. Felt great. Different than any other time I have worked out with Leigh. Well, that would be because I have never worked out with him before. How ridiculous is it that my own brother is a personal trainer and I have never sought him out for help. That’s right, aside from an occasional game of tennis, I haven’t worked out regularly in 16 years!!

At the gym, we had a wonderful time getting my muscles moving. I loved hearing him speak his passionate words of instruction.  I loved that he was helping me use these old muscles of mine. It was not hard to see why people pay him the big bucks to work out with him 1-2 times a week. He was so compassionate and encouraging. I heard my brother with different ears.

I have been listening a lot more lately. You can’t help but hear better when you stop talking. I have talked a lot less these last few months and I am amazed at what I am hearing!! Mostly I am hearing my own inner voice. I want so much to be heard, to be paid attention to by me. To be valued enough by myself to be taken care of physically.
However, while I have been quieting down, I have apparently felt the need to fill my mouth with food to keep from speaking. My weight is at an all time high of 214. Oh, my goodness, how did I let this happen!!??
So begins the path to physical fitness. OK, not begin, but enter into a new awareness of my physical fitness. I am going to work on being physically fit. Fitness in mind, body and soul.


Leigh asked me about what I meant by healthy in your soul. Healthy in mind makes sense, healthy in body makes sense. But what does 'health in soul' mean? I believe it means being grateful. If I am grateful for all my many blessings, I am working on a healthy soul. Your soul is where your spirit resides. I believe my spirit, my soul is the barometer with which I approach life. My mind navigates my way through and my body is my vessel through which I travel.

 
My vessel is getting a little too big, too much junk in the trunk and the glove box!! Too much luggage is piled up on top. I am not traveling very smoothly. And yet I am moving pretty rapidly...2 years and 5 months til I hit the big 5-0!  Akkkkkkkkk, how did that get so close???

 
But it feels really, really good to be immersed in an over haul.

It is all getting better.


Change is good.


Life is better.
 
I am excited that I am keeping up with my physical fitness.  There has been an ebb and flow to my motivation on this path.  The awareness I have that my body, mind and soul are all connected and equally important for over all wellness, remains ever present in my continence.  Where am I on this journey? I am staying more fit, I am still trying to talk less (writing here helps) and my soul is pushing some exciting/scary things to the surface.


I began a journey a year ago, and today it feels wonderful to be at this mile marker. I have lightened my load and the pace doesn't frighten me any more.  The road stretches out in front of me and it is a beautiful day to travel

sticks and stones... and ouch, he called me a racist.

A student called me a bad name in class the other day. His word, this awful name, was flung at me out of his frustration with my request for him to stay on task. He didn’t want to do his work, he wanted to listen to his music. Out of his aggravation, he called me a racist. I was devastated. Only by my dramatic reaction did this boy realize the weight of his action. His arrow was cast casually, tossed in my direction without any real awareness it would strike right at my heart. His word pierced through me, took my breath away and left me speechless. My thoughts swirled around in my head like a tornado, “is this what this boy really thinks of me?”


After I dismissed the class, I broke down crying and I could not stop. Finding refuge in another teachers room, I explained what had happened through uncontrollable sobs. My colleagues reasoned that this boy didn’t know what he was saying, “don’t let this bother you, we know that word doesn’t describe you”. While their words attempted soothed my emotional injury, I had a very difficult time regaining my composure.

Why did this name I was called shake me at my very core? Does it devastate me because it is so far from the truth, or could it be painful because it is closer to the truth than I want to admit? To find some understanding to my heartbreak, I must ask myself these very tough questions. Why couldn’t I stop my emotions from overflowing, this pain in my heart from hurting, with rational thoughts. I am not a racist, I do not believe any one race to be better than any other. My Father in heaven created all his children equal.

In my search to find the answer to my devastating reaction in being called a racist, this is what I came to rest upon. Mine is not a choice between whether or not this young man’s word described me or that it couldn’t be further from the truth. I believe the painful impact that this arrow had on my heart was because it is with this heart of mine I love so deeply the very child who said it. And if he called me this name, I must not be living out this love to the fullest.

This boy is a teacher on my path. He is a beautiful child of God. I am grateful he is in my world. I hope that he can forgive me. I promise I will do better.



Post Script: Later this day, I received a very heartfelt apology from this young man. His father was beside him as we all sat together in the principal’s office. He stood and looked me in the eyes and said he was sorry he called me that name, that he didn’t believe this about me.  I rejoiced as I accepted his apology.  I told him that I believed in him.
The walls that separate us are coming down.
Joy to our Father in heaven, from Him all blessings flow.

sticks and stones...

I was called a name by a student the other day, it left me in tears...
I am writing about my reaction and the piece will end up here.  All things that happen to me , I see as instructions, teachers on my journey.  I don't believe that boy has any idea what he taught me about myself.
I will post it here very soon.  I am busy substituting teaching 8th grade algebra for the next few days.
Let us pray.

Zebulon Middle School...College Prep for Success

I am sub teaching today and over my shoulder stand two bright students, Samone and Ikea.  I am teaching 8th grade social studies, "the civil war".  However, during my planing period(?) I was asked to fill in another class. ( I always try to be flexible/available, increases my value!) So I am over seeing these eagar students as they ponder which universities they will attend in a few short years...such a lively discussion...
Better get back to the front of the room!!

I am always amazed at the trivial things I can acomplish while avoiding the big, important job staring me in the face!!

Emotional pain and learning my lessons

In the fluster of emotional pain, when the trembling shift of emerging emotional pain begins to push to the surface, I will seek out someone to share this emotional earth quake with. I can usually find some unsuspecting, caring person to unveil my suffering on. My delivery is animated, entertaining and vivid. I am spilling forth all my anguish and turmoil, my uncomfortable dealings with what life has served up for me. “He said, then I sad, then we...”, “Then she said...can you believe that!?”. My company is engaged in the unfolding of all the details of my pain and suffering. They are temporarily suspended from the dull dealings of their everyday life and given an opportunity to step into an intimate circle of my life. They are gripped by the unfairness of what has befallen me, “oh, poor Patty”. In a flash the decision is made, I read it on their face when the hand off occurs. They want to help me. Like a knight, they want to save me from my pain, protect me from the suffering, shield me from the unfairness of it all. Somewhere in the midst of my emotional earth quake, my compassionate friend has taken on my pain. Like a human bridge they have laid themselves out across the wicked chasm of my undeserving pain. I am rescued. I am pulled from the mire of my misery. My friend has slung my duffel bag of pain on their shoulders. They have a mighty purpose they weren't aware of earlier in the day. Now, thanks to my hero, I am once again back on the surface, amid the light hearted and worthy. My personal warrior walks away, dragging my personal information. (The “duffel bag of pain”drags the ground now because other peoples crap gets heavy in a hurry!) My wonderful friend is dragging away all my possible motivation to correct the painful and persistently reoccurring situation I had earlier found myself in. I slowly come into an awareness that I have not used my pain, the trembling earth below my feet that warns me change is coming, to get better. I haven't paid heed to the chasm of anguish that keeps showing up on my path because I will allow my friends to lay themselves across like a bridge, so I may again pass with the lesson left unlearned. I am really good at handing off my “duffel bag o'pain”. I put on a great show, people love my show. I am a very slow learner.

Dear God,  Please bless all the people who have dragged my 'DBOP' for a while.  Let them know they can put it down, I need it for class.  And please help me to learn my lessons faster so I will quit anoying my friends with my 'DBOP". Amen.


“Standing in the way of other people's pain, prevents their growth.” (But it makes me feel valuable and important, and wise, and needed...thats another blog on another day...)

When I have the time to write all that I want to say, will I still remember it the way the words rolled through my mind in the grocery store line?  Because right now,I have to go live my life.  The writing will have to wait...for just minute, or until the middle of the night!

Just back from a wonderful time with old friends, new friends and other friends...so much to say about the evening...hopefully this weekend I will get time to write about the "words we want to hear need to be scripted!!" 

I love my cave man!

 I love to complicate the simple things, it makes them more entertaining.  I can take a plain anything and spice it up.  A plain recipe, it just needs a little bit of me!  I am horrible about this, people will share a recipe, been in their family for years, and before they can even finish explaining the ingredients, I have tweaked the dish in my head.  I am borderline rude!! I am sure the dish is beautiful all by itself, just the way it has been prepared for years, but I seem to feel if you stir in a teaspoon of ______, it would be all that much better!! I just love to mix things up, swirl it around and entertain myself the whole time.   Let me see, how has this worked in the area of my marriage?  Hummmm, let me look over there ...yep, I would have to say it has brought up some challenges!!



Things in my world do not have to be in order,  as long as I have a general idea where they are, I am relaxed and fine.  My husband, however is not.  He is a man that likes order and organization.  I am a constant source of irritation to him, bless his heart with the straight edges!  He loves me dearly and thinks I am sexy so he doesn't hound me too much about my creative style.  We have been marries for 15 years and we are passionately in love with each other.  The intensity of these passionalte feelings are stronger at some times, more than others.  There is an ebb and flow to our relationship.  When the ebb gets too grand, and it dams up the flow, we head to a therapist.  If the water isn't flowing freely, if there are rocks in the way, if it starts to back up and the dam starts forming, chances are I am already talking to someone; friend, minister, counselor, strangers in the grocery store, anyone who will listen to my plight.  I have to be talking to someone so I can sort it all out.  I need help deciding if I have a leg to stand on if I ever decide to open the discussion with my husband.  He is clueless at this point that the water has begun to shift in the slightest, that I might not be 'happy'. He is busy protecting our family and providing for us.  That is his Job, (Thank you Steve Harvey for your wonderful book, Act like a Lady, Think like a Man)   I agree that my husband believes that Providing and Protecting is his most important job as a husband and father. His uniform for this job is a beautiful coat of devotion to me. He works hard at this job, he is good at it, it is how he was raised. That I am expecting a whole lot more than that from him, is just ...well...unreasonalble.


The challenges in my life have come about when I thought I would try to switch up and change, just a little, the man I married. Because I felt I needed something more than he was offering, more than Protection, Provision and Devotion, I tried to make my 'NEED' his fault. "He is just not THERE for me!! Poor me, my husband just doesn't understand all the many facets of the wonderful person I am!! My husband doesn't feel the pain I am in right now, he doesn't care about me!! Poor me!! Wah wah wah!!" On the therapist couch, (yes, there are really couches in there.) I discovered this is not about him. It was about me. I had to do the work, I had to find it within my self to stand up and ask for what I need.  Find what I need from ME, within me. If my husband can't add all of my ten thousand, ever changing, needs to his list of things he is responsible for, (which, according to his JOB description are: keeping the mortgage paid and the burglars away), maybe I just needed to work on it myself. My husband can not fill all my needs. Period. I said it. He knows it. I have explained this to him. He is tremendously relieved that the misconception is cleared up. God gave me amazing women, incredible women all around me, to help me, to be there to listen, support, sympathize, strengthen me. I believe if my husband loved to talk and process life as much as I did, NOTHING would get accomplished!! He would never leave for work!!! We would just lay around all day drinking coffee and laughing.


Sitting in my cave, with all my girl friends around the fire, I love that my man is with the other men, outside guarding the entrance. He is keeping the saber tooth tigers away. He is very brave. He has a big club!! He was gone all last week on the big hunt. He brought back a huge Mammoth that we will eat off of for weeks. I can't wait to make his favorite dish: Mammoth kabobs! From the hide I can make some righteous new outs for me and the girls. I love my cave man. And I love my girl friends around the fire. Life is good!


God is good, all the time. Amen!

Before I had children...now that I have them...

Oh My WORD!!!! Having teen age girls is such a challenge on my nerves!! They are all over the map with those emotions of theirs!! And all those emotions truly are justified, all real and very important and need to be respected. Yea, right!! Who am I kidding? So much unnecessary drama!! I wonder where they get if from? Hmmmmmm...

As all of this emotional energy is swirling around, the dialogue that is constantly running in my head is the one I have with the 'me' before i had children. You know that conversation, the one that went like this... "when I have my own children I am NEVER going to do that! My children will never have to________, (feel free to fill it in with anything, like"do chores before they can play" what a drag that was!! Took me forever on Saturday mornings to get it done and then all my friends had made other plans. Sooo unfair!! Or, "when I have my own children, I will ALWAYS let them _____, because my parents never let me!! or, "I am never going to send my kids to their room 'without another word'!!". I will listen to them and validate all those very important feelings. I will give them the freedom to express themselves openly and with out harsh judgement.. OK, I had many, many, way too many of those conversations. I didn't have my first child until I was 35. I had lots of time to plan my strategy for healing the hurt from my own childhood through my relationship with my children.

This is a great example: As a child I, felt my mom was always very impatient with me when I got hurt. I would come to her with blood streaming down my leg and she would tell me to go to the bathroom and she would be with me in a minute. I had three other siblings and my mom worked; she was always very busy all of the time. So, to interrupt her busy-ness with my careless behavior, recklessness that lead to some bleeding. This was very inconvenient for her. I was often met with, "Whew, what have you done now?". My injuries were another thing a long list of things she had to take care of. And so what I packed away in my side pocket of my adulthood baggage was, "When I have kids I will always validate their injuries, be available to them if they are hurt". My oldest daughter comes along, begins growing and bumping into things. I would kiss her boo-boos', "Are you okay, sweetie, let mama make it all better". I am sure I gave her way too much attention than necessary. I was busy with my own agenda of trying to make up for some lack of attention from my own childhood. This did not help my daughter! No, she just got way too much attention surrounding any illness or hurt. It only took a few years before I started realizing my error. My little angel was becoming a hypochondriac!! It seemed like every time the wind hit her wrong, "Ow!! That hurt, mommy, come look at how the wind blew across my hand!! MOM, COME LOOK!!!". I recognized my error in parenting early and unfortunately tried to correct this in my second child. Over correct is more accurate, "get up, you are not hurt, the bleeding will stop, just press on it and hurry up!". Ummm, I think I sound like my mom. Maybe she had it right. Or doing the best she could? There is a thought: Be a little gentler when reviewing my upbringing.

Parenting is really tricky when you take it too seriously. Is that bad, can you take parenting too seriously? There seems to be a fine line there. I believe the tricky part is the person looking at you with the magnifying glass, judging your every move...usually someone without kids, still having that conversation with their 'other self', "when I have kids, I am NEVER going to do that to mine, how aweful!!!!!!" Judge, Judge, Judge!!!! Ewww, judging is so unattractive!! But if I look really close when I am feeling like someone is judging me, measuring something I am doing with their perfect stick, I am usually guilty of judging someone else...that is a big ewwww!! Could it be me and my harsh judgement toward my mom? Holding her up to my 'pre-parenthood perfect parenting expectation stick'? There is the lesson for me. If I am not in a judging state of mind, If I am I am open and compassionate to the poor woman trying to manage her wild children in the Wal-mart line then I the judgement waves on my parent radar are blocked. If i don't judge my mother's parenting with that perfect stick, maybe i wont feel like she is judging me all the time. Maye she is just truly, just like she says, trying to be helpful!! What a breakthrough!
My lesson is: Don't judge others and you wont feel like they are judging you. I believe this to be true, just like the Bible says! (Luke 6:37)

Most days I try to parent somewhere in the middle.

"Yes, sweet child o' mine, you have to do your chores but you pick the time. If not Saturday morning, then when? And no I am not going to pay you to pick up clothes you threw on the floor!! But I will pay you to clean the bathrooms!!"

"Please go to your room and let me think this out, just go! Write me letter if you are so furious with me, go NOW, I am too angry to discuss it and if you push me right now, you will get grounded!!

My parents had the right idea, they knew I needed boundaries. My children need boundaries. It is my job as their parent to give them boundaries and enforce them. Most of the time my kids get mad at the limits. But I have to weather that storm, I will take the heat. I am the grown up, and I am right. (at least I have to act grown up and believe I am right!) I don't have to explain it, it doesn't have to be fair, it is just the way it is!! Quit whining!!

Now lets move on...I need to go burn the "perfect parenting measuring stick" :)

What's in your purse?

Remember in middle school when we started carrying purses? Whenever there was a spare moment, “can I look in your purse?”. We would pilfer through the tissues and chap stick, the band-aids and tampons, looking for something that hadn’t occurred to us to carry. Hey, she has nail polish in her purse! I have some at home I am going to put in my purse when I get home. Then my purse will look fuller, like hers. It was so important to look like you had important stuff in your purse. The emergency safety pin when Marie’s bra-strap was showing. (Back then, a showing bra strap was trashy and would never get you asked to prom like it does today!) And you had to have tissues for Meredith when Mark broke up with her for the 5th time. If I didn’t have it ready and waiting, she may turn to Sherrie and I would loose my rank as Meredith’s best friend. Having essentials in your purse was critical to the social order of middle school.

In the grown up world, things haven't changed that much. However, as adults we carry our experiences, relationships and hopes and emotions and dreams our purses. We cling to them, hold them close, “ I don’t want anyone looking in my purse with out my permission”. Carol, you need some sympathy? Here, let me look. No, I am all out. Maybe Martha has some in her purse she can give you, she went through a painful divorce. I bet she has a lot of sympathy for you.
“Liz, how is that situation at work going for you?”,
“Here, Tricia, look in my purse, it is awful!!”,
“Not to worry, Liz, in my purse I have some compassion right here next to my extra-strength love.”

But to let someone look in your purse, you have to be in the right setting. You really have to trust the girlfriend. On a girls night out, your closest friends bring their big ‘ol bags full of stuff to share: guilt, sympathy, laughter(always bring a wallet full of laughter!!) we even bring our secrets in the zipper pocket. Those secrets may be shared with one or two in the group, on an intimate trip to the bathroom.

On a girls weekend, I bring my suitcases filled with hurt, anger, confusion, personal growth charts and emotional pain graphs. I might bring a PowerPoint presentation of the horrible way I am disappointing my teenage daughters! Some times we pack naughty secrets in our makeup bag. I start collecting these items as soon as I write on my calendar the date of the trip. When we arrive at the destination, we begin unpacking slowly, a little sadness here and a little guilt there. We shake out some embarrassing moments that are quickly soothed with giggles and a warm smile. As the weekend gets rolling, we take our bags and shake them upside down, shame and crushed feelings, proud mommy moments, all come tumbling out all over the floor...we are wide open. At this point there is usually an empty bottle of wine somewhere on the premises.

I love to share. I will share just about anything, except my husband, of course! I will share my food and recipes, my time and skills, my devotion and love. I will share my secret pain and wildest laughter. Sharing it all, giving it out, I know will bring it back to me ten fold. Just like the Bible teaches.

"Hey, Tammy, I have some bad decisions here in my purse, meet me in the girls bathroom between classes and I will show you!! And don't forget to bring your extra-strength love, I am going to need it!

Peace out!

Oh, there is so much I want to write about. I want to write about being at the beach, the time I spent away from my family and how much I missed them. I want to write about substitute teaching 7th grade science and having the amazing oportunity to share my daughter's story. All of these words are running through my head just iching to get onto the page. And so I sit down to write..."MOM!!!!!!!Please tell her to stop touching my stuff!!!!!", "MOM!!! She is usng my stuff, tell her to quit it", "She is such a brat!!", "MOM, where are my jeans, are they clean? Why NOT!!". "MOM, .....!!!!". Did I really miss these kids while I was gone? Did I miss this family or maybe the one I fantasize about having? Yea, that other life I dream is mine...I missed that one!!!