It's Confirmed

Well, it's confirmed!
I cannot watch any photo montage set to music without crying. It doesnt matter what the pictures are of. I will cry. I am literally sitting in my chair chuckling (okay fine, cackling) out loud at myself right now. I think I always suspected this truth about myself, but today it was confirmed. I went to my niece's 8th grade graduation feeling 100% non-emotional about it. Just a happy day.  I sat down, looked at all the parents, was reminded that my own daughter will someday be graduating the 8th grade and had to bite my lip because I felt it coming. "Be cool Salhus" Im thinking..."It's akward if you cry. It's not even your daughter..."

Then the photo montage started. Set to music (which is the real emotional-clencher for me). I could'nt help it! I cried. I literally felt embarrassed, which made me laugh (I always default to laughing when I dont know what to do). So, I was probably a very unsettling bench-mate to the kindly, old man sitting next to me...with my half crying, half laughing, entirely strange display. Ah, who cares. Like I said, he was kindly. And my sister was there to laugh with me. She gets me. And that helps in any situation.

Sitting there in the auditorium, smelling that lingering funk specific to all school gymnasiums, looking at the pictures, looking at my niece- it all took me back to my own high school and even college days.  Any of you readers who know me well at all, know that I am a VERY nostalgiac person. "Remember When" is my second all time favorite game. (My first is "Name That Movie". Because I rule at it)

 "Remember when junior prom was ruined by my akward date?", "Rememeber when Norby and I fell in the middle of that pep rally and my cheer uniform went over my head, going from barely existent to nonexistent?", "Remember when we pulled that all nighter at Denny's?" , "Remember when we'd all sit outside in the commons talking and laughing til midnight every night?" "Remember that road trip to HB?" "Remember Amber's "Jungle Fever" dance?"(the other Amber), "Remember Little Blue? (my first car) And late night trips to Taco Bell while we listened to Aretha Franklin?" "Member that?"

I don't know why I love memory lane so much! Well, yes I do. Because we had a lot of good times! Those years for me were filled with laughter and excitement and new chapters and, of course, romances. But I don't look back on those times with anything other than fondness. I have no desire to go back to that time of life. While it was all invigorating and new and delightfully free of responsibility- it was also not "as good as it gets", as they say. Ya know what I mean? It bothers me when peers freak out and essentially turn their lives upside down, based on the desire to regain freedom or youth or whatever it is they think they want to go back to and get more of.  Yuck, that sounds judgemental. Let me rephrase. People might turn their lives upside down for any number of good and real reasons and that is, of course, no business of mine. I guess I just mean, for me personally, I hope to grab on to each day and get the most out of it, regardless of what lies within those 24 hrs. And then to move on to the next with a sense of contentment. Take it for what it is.  I hope to, and I want to, but I need to do it more.

I'm past the high school, the college, and even the newlywed days. They each had their peaks and their valleys. Now I'm in that phase where we have small children and on some days it feels like that alone is an engulfing experience. We're riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Kids can take you from pride to dismay and back again multiple times in a day, yes?! And while I will admit, I have had moments (only moments!) of feeling like motherhood might swallow me whole- it's also not the only thing about me. I am a wife. I am a sister. I am a friend. I am a daughter. I am a mother. I am good at certain things and I'm hopeless at others.

I've written before about my desire and goal to be more PRESENT in each day, in each moment. It's so easy Not to do. I can so quickly fill up my time with cleaning, cooking, dressing, bathing, changing diapers, running errands. All good things. All things that need doing. But I want to take more time to appreciate. To soak it up. To play more barbies with my daughter, to make more mudpies with my son, and to remember to give my husband that look that he knows means "I love you" in the middle of the evening, bathtime chaos. To laugh more with my freinds.

But ya know what? It struck me as I was sitting there in that stinky gymnasium tearing up over pictures of kids that I dont even know- I'm happy with the way life is turning out. Not all days feel "happy", not all relationships are free of drama, I don't always know what to do as a parent, it doesnt always feel easy. Okay it rarely feels easy! But I am at a point in my life where I can look backwards with fondness and I can look forward with hope- and I can thank my God for where He's planted my feet right now, today. Wasn't it Paul who said, "I've learned how to abase and how to abound."? So whether today is a 'peak' kind of a day or a 'pit' kind of a day, it's still a day I've been given. What will I do with it?

Well Would'nt You Know...

Hello dear readers! I've missed you. Its been a busy month here at the Maxi Pad (my home) I know. Its a terrible thing to name a home. But like most jokes that stick, its slightly inapropriate and equally catchy. Im not even sure how it got started actually, considering there are an equal number of males and females living in our house. I think it traces back to Ladies Night. Not "going out" like most savvy chicks in their twenties probably do. No, we'd get in our sweats, eat desserts, and watch the Batchelor. Terribly wild of us, isnt it? Anyway, long story short, that's how nicknaming my home "the Maxi Pad" got started and this is where talking about it ends.

So life has been very busy this month, but I cant quite pinpoint why. Just business as usual I suppose. Big One is finishing her first year of preschool (single tear) and getting ready for her first ballet recital- all very grownup things for her little self. Im torn between pride and helplessness as I watch her turn into this independant little person. Little One is turning into quite the livewire and requiring much more of my attention as of late. The minute it gets quiet, is one minute too late to start looking for him. He's all dimples and innocence until he makes up his mind to be naughty. The closer we get to 2, the more I savor the days of sweetness and simplicity with him. I know they are numbered. Husband and I managed to sneak in a mini-break away together last weekend, which was lovely. There's nothing like waking up and realizing that I can shamelessly lie in bed for twenty minutes before getting up because no one needs me! Glorious. We enjoyed peaceful, leisurely meals, staying up late and sleeping in, and hours of bonding time in the car. We've been mulling over some decisions lately, and we were able to make some real progress towards that end. We always seem to get some of our best talking done in the car. Dont know why, something about the open road I guess.

In other news: I FINALLY, lost a few pounds! I recently shared my descent into fatness with you all (because you're the gracious and encouraging type) in my "For Realsies" post. I got myself into a funk and I've spent the past month spinning my wheels. I have been working out, eating clean, and that stupid scale was not budging. It could have something to do with the fact that (TMI alert) I started taking birth control pills again this month. Hopefully that's not an overshare. And if it is...too late! Im pretty sure it's contributed to at least 5 of my "extra" pounds. Blurg. 

So one whole month of these shenanigans and no real progress! So frustrating. Then my dvd player broke so I havent been able to do my P90X videos for a little over a week. Well would'nt you know, one week of not working out and even cheating a little with my diet, and I lost FIVE pounds! In one week! What the what?! I dont get it, but I am just going to be thankful and keep plugging away. Its tempting to test this theory further and see if I can do it again for another week, but something tells me that's not wise. It probably would just end up with me indulging my way back to the number I started from. The number that shall forever remain shrouded in mystery, rather than ever be spoken aloud.
Would'nt you know.

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

The Weight of Worry

In my recent post "An Anchor for the soul ", I shared a bit of how I've been struggling with fear. Fear of something terrible. Fear of the unknown. Fear of, I dont even know what! As if I dont have enough legitimate concerns to deal with in a day, I'm now conjuring up newly invented, undefinable concerns as well. Perfect. At least Im thorough.

While I recognize the existance of this inner struggle as of late, I feel that I have not exactly conquered it yet. Or if I have, its been only rarely and briefly. Fear is a beast! A vicious beast with its finger on my pulse, and a chokehold on my neck. (Figuratively, of course.) Its with a smirk, and a tongue-in-cheek attitude that I speak so dramatically in reference to something that actually is a bit dramatic for me. Its how I cope. So bear with me.

It just so happens that Im one week deep into a two week wait to find out if I have skin cancer. On the whole, I know that Im young and there's a good chance that I dont have melanoma. I also know there's a good chance that I do. My mom has had skin cancer more than once, and more recently, my sister was diagnosed with melanoma.  We were not blessed with porcelain skin. Its more like alabaster. The color of blue iced milk. I accepted my inability to be tan long ago, but the smattering of freckles and moles I get instead is hardly a consolation prize. So I've had a bad gut feeling about a couple of moles for over a year now, but have put off going to the dermatologist on the flimsy basis of not having the time, or not wanting to spend the money, but truthfully its been because Im just too chicken. But after my sister was diagnosed with melanoma, my cage was sufficiently rattled. It was time to quit mucking about and just grow a pair (again, figuratively, of course) and go get on a doctor's radar. So I rallied my courage and went.

After spending 30-some-odd minutes sitting alone in a room with my anxious thoughts and working up a nice cold sweat in my paper gown, the doctor didnt have much to say to ease my mind. I heard lots of  "Hmmm"s and "Tsk"s and "I dont like the look of that"s. Ultimately she cut out 3 moles to send to the lab and told me to come back in ten days to get stitches out and hold tight for two weeks until we know the results. Right. Hold tight. This is highly inconvenient to a person who's two chief weaknesses are impatience and worry.
I left the doctors office, started my car, and tried very hard to ignore the panic that I felt rising in my chest. Or at least keep it at bay. My first thought was, "Who can love my kids as fiercely as I do if I die?" I don't want to be a drama queen. I'm not a hypochondriac. Im fairly confident that the rational side of my brain in still in tact. But I do think God has a knack for pinpointing these weaknesses/fears in our hearts and drawing them to the surface every now and then. Like bile, rising up, whether you like it or not. Yet however uncomfortable it feels, and however much it makes me squirm and want to plug my ears like a little kid who actually thinks that works in warding off unpleasant news, I do believe these fears being brought to the surface and dealt with is ultimately for my own greater good.
I keep using the word "fears" in a vague sense. I suppose it boils down to a fundamental fear that something bad will happen to my children. Or that some terrible, unforseen accident will befall my husband and I, and how this will ultimately affect my tiny tenders. The thought alone makes my chest tighten, my vision blur with tears, and gives me a mild urge to dry heave.  Ironically enough though, I've found that the most theraputic way to deal with this fear is to face it head on rather than run screaming for the hills. I've thought a lot this week about what would happen if my biopsy came back positive for cancer. Odds are they'd go back in, cut it all out, stitch me up, and I'd carry on perfectly fine with only another scar to add to my collection. But what if that werent the case? What if I actually died? (hey, I warned you to bear with me!) What if I actually died of skin cancer? What then? Do I still believe that God is good? Do I still believe that He loves me and has a more perfect plan for my life? A plan that trumps my own? Do I believe that He loves my husband and each of my children infinitely more than I even could? Well,yes... I guess I do. I couldnt abandon any of those beliefs even if I wanted to. "I just know in my knower"(as my mom used to say), that He does. So whaddayagonnado? Im still "in it". I dont have a nicely packaged little antecdote to come out the other side of my head trip with. I do know one thing though: Fear is a beast I need not wrestle with. Because if I truly trust in my God, if I have a big enough measure of faith, then I can have a real peace that passes understanding. I heard once that the single most repeated instruction from God in the bible is "Fear not." 2 Timothy 1:7 "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind". God is never the source of my inner turbulence. We are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. His grace and peace are intensified not in spite of, but because of my personal trials. Every verse I've read in the past week has said things like "Take courage", "Be still, be calm" "Dont be afraid" "Find solitude" and "Recognize my hand in this"...

I read about David and Goliath. David slew the lion and the bear, and having thus developed courage, he moved unflinchingly to confront the giant Philistine. It was in this area of courage that he was above his fellows. Quiet faith had its moment of open revelation. Building faith in the lesser challenges will be a delivering angel in the most calamitous moment.
SO. Skin cancer or no skin cancer, I'll be okay.  The weight of worry can rob me of peace and joy just as easily as any hardship I may face. So why bother with it, really?

It's All Relative

What I really want to blog about is the ridiculously terrible 36 hours of travel my husband and I recently survived. (With two small children in tow!)  But I won't. I am going to resist the urge to regurgitate a slew of unneccessary details and negative drivel that no one wants to hear. I can feel the word bile rising up in me this very second, but I will resist! Suffice it to say it was bad. Not quite the worst, as we all made it home safely. But whatever the slot is right under worst? That's where we landed. Maybe not number 1 in worst case scenarios, but  number 1.5 with a bullet.
Oh looky there. I spent a whole paragraph NOT talking about it. (insert ironic tone of voice) THATS wierd.

But the whole experience got me thinking. How sometimes we think things are bad. We hiss and moan and throw a mini-fit about how annoying/unbelievable/unfair/exhausting/sad/unlucky/etc our situation seems. And if we dont verbally throw this mini-fit, you know its happening mentally, or at least under our breath. But whats funny, is that most of the time the things that send us into these tailspins are really nothing more than mere inconveniences. Okay, I'll stop saying "we" and "us". Im really talking about me. I guess its presumptuous to lump all of you in with me as having an admittedly rotten attitude at times.

At about hour 7 of our ill fated travels, a 'fit' would be an understatement describing the way some people were acting. Not my people, thank God. I can say, with some small measure of pride, that my whole family, 1yr old and 3yr old included kept their cool. No tantrums, fits, or nuclear meltdowns. There was some crying, Im not gonna lie. I AM gonna lie and say it wasnt me doing the crying. But it wasnt until the 14th hour of said ill fated travels (and it was partly because I thought we might all die. So sue me.)

But what sort of strikes me as funny, is that here people are, all strung out and up in arms and indignant about how outrageously bad the situation was, when in reality, it was only about to get worse. If we only knew! Im laughing out loud,  typing this right now. Glad the whole debacle isnt too fresh to seem funny. Sometimes you gotta laugh, otherwise you'll cry, right?!

But I digress. Back to the point. ...?...Oh yes! My point IS that its really all relative. Troubles, that is. And arent troubles often just as fleeting as the good times anyways?  I mean really- half of the time I waste my energy being anxious, upset or worried about something, its just that. Wasted energy. So my new litmus test for whether or not I should stress out is this: In two weeks from now, will it matter?

Will it matter that I have had one of those days that the odds just seem against me? Probably not. Will it matter that I was inconvenienced in some small way? Doubt it. Will I remember that my children were full of the dickens and made it very hard for me to control the volume of my voice? Haha, maybe. Okay fine, not likely. Will it be worth getting snippy with my spouse over?  In two weeks from now, will it carry any weight at all? Does it even matter?

There is something about the holidays that tends to bring out the nasty in a lot of people, right? Something about it that makes them feel entitled to wave their Freak Flag.  I have seen a 70yr old woman get physical with another woman over a shirt at a sample sale. 70 yrs old! And Im not exaggerating when I say "physical".  I've felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the grocery store because the person behind me in the 12 Items or Less lane is putting out a slightly manic, urgent vibe - and visibly counting up my items to make sure Im not doing her and the rest of the world some great injustice by being having 13 things in my cart. Not to mention the usual customer service or sales person who gets cursed out for simply doing their job.

There really is something to be said for being easygoing. And there really is something to be said for perspective. We are safe. We are healthy. We are happy- on the level that it really counts anyway.

I have always refused to make New Year's resolutions. I dont do it. But I am making it a December Personal Goal, that if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. I dont exactly believe in karma, but I also dont believe in being a big fat jerk. Happy Holidays everyone!