Simple, Yet Complicated

Tonight we will carve our pumpkins in our attempt to be crafty and creative for Halloween.   We will no doubt spend a better portion of an hour picking out patterns on the computer.  I, myself, like a traditional pumpkin face with the pointy teeth and uneven eyes.   Simple.  My boys however, like the difficult and tricky designs that make the trick-or-treaters ooo and ahh.  Complicated.

Isn’t life like this most of the time?  Simple, yet complicated?  I find it to be true more and more often. If we choose a path, it can be simple or complicated.  If we get up in the morning, we can be cheerful and have a sing-song to our steps or we can be grumpy that the alarm went off before we were ready and stomp around trying to make it not so.  

It more or less comes down to a decision made by us.  It’s in the teetering on the fence part of the decision where our emotions and mood must be dealt with quickly.  Choose the simple path or answer or do just enough to suffice.  Choose the complicated path; create tension or a problem that isn’t really there.  We have that power.  Our tempers, our kind hearts, our good intentions, our greed; are all choices we make. 

For me, I’m pretty good at making things complicated because I get stuck in the details and the “what ifs”.  I tend to teeter on the complicated side of things, when I’d much rather be on the “it’s fine and everything will be ok” end of the spectrum.

So, tonight as we scrape out the seeds in our six pumpkins (I know it seems excessive doesn’t it?), I will try to remember that I like a simple jack-‘o-lantern.  Simple triangular eyes, a funny shaped nose and a toothless smile.  Life can be simple, but it requires effort on our part to make it so.  Here’s to orange pumpkins and toothless smiles. 

Tuesday's Observations

While riding the bike at the Y this morning, I glanced around to see if anyone I knew was there, when I saw it.   I laughed out loud.  A woman on the elliptical going rather slowly with a towel draped around her neck had a STARBUCKS Coffee sitting in the water bottle holder. Really? Is this the new trend?  I don’t think I’ll be participating in this trendy new gym accessory.   Not more than three minutes later, (I am not making this up) another woman the size of my nine year old, stepped onto the treadmill holding her STARABUCKS coffee since the treadmill water bottle holders are smaller.  Weird.  I have no other words, but weird.

My boys whistle non-stop. Whistling drives me insane with a capital I.  Within minutes of them getting up and brushing their teeth, they are whistling.  Coming downstairs to breakfast, they’re whistling.   Playing a game together, they’re both whistling.  I associate whistling with carefree living and not having a worry in the world, so I guess I should be taking it as a compliment as they are both content, happy and enjoy life to the fullest.  I just can’t seem to remember that however when they are actually whistling.  It’s like nails on a chalkboard to me.   I must say STOP WHISTLING 437 times a day.  I need a new tactic or just need to be glad they are happy.

The wind is blowing so hard today.  It has been doing this for almost 24 hours now.  Every leaf that was clinging for dear life to its branch has now disappeared from its home never to return (and will probably end up in Wyoming by tomorrow). Wind annoys me in every possible way.  It makes getting into the car difficult.  You have to hold the car door tightly so as not to hit the car parked next to you.  Your hair gets whipped into your face making it difficult to see where you’re going.   The house rattles and every newspaper in the neighborhood is blowing across the street.  I don’t like it one bit. 

While in the Indian food store this morning, I saw an elderly gentleman (I’m guessing he’s 82) that I recognized from the Y, looking at the chocolate bars in the store.  I don’t know him, but we always say hello to each other at the Y.  He recognized me and came right over to me and asked how I was and held my arm as if I was his best pal.  He told me he recognized me from the Y and how I always ride the bike for a long time.  We chatted and he encouraged me to come every morning instead of the two or three times I come (I had no idea he was keeping track) and that it would be good for me.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  He just wanted to chat and chat some more.  I introduced myself and so did he and told me he’d be looking for me tomorrow.  He was so kind and happy and just wanted to chat for a bit. It was lovely.   I feel pressure now to go to the Y tomorrow even though I don’t normally go on Wednesdays.  I wouldn’t want to disappoint Hal though.

The Dreaded Task

Why is it we put off the things we don’t like to do?   Do you do this?  I’m sure you do.  We all do it in one way or another, but why?   In my mind, putting off things I think will be difficult or boring is just prolonging the agony of the “to do” item. I’m an intelligent person. I know this.  The getting started part is what seems to be difficult for me.  I will find every excuse NOT to do it. 

Here’s a small example of my “putting off” habit.  I hate to balance the checkbook.  I abhor this task with my entire being.  I don’t really have a reason why, but I just do.  It’s tedious, time consuming and down right awful.  It’s also October.  The last time I balanced the checkbook was July.  (My mother is shaking her head as she reads this.)  I have Quicken, which does all the math for me and I still can’t find the energy or the motivation to do it.  It’s basically data entry. No special codes or process, just entering everything as it appears in my checkbook.  

So, Friday, I cleared my calendar and made the decision to dedicate the entire day to this awful task.  I needed to get it off my shoulders so I could enjoy the weekend and relax a bit.   I printed the bank statements (remember, I have three months worth to enter), logged on to Quicken, and sat down at the kitchen table to tackle the pile of paper.   I opened my wallet, but decided I should make myself a glass of iced tea first.  Oh, and maybe I should light a candle to make the atmosphere cozy (it was foggy, cold and wet outside and thunder was rumbling over the house).  I lit the candles in the kitchen and sat down.   My “ding” alert sounded telling me I had a new e-mail.  I should probably check it and see who it’s from.  It could be important.  Read, read, read. A Barnes and Noble coupon, that’s all. I must have done this delay dance for a solid ten minutes.

I finally sat down and dug in.  It took me two hours and I was done.  I felt like dancing when I hit the “reconcile” button and it balanced to the penny.   Almost like a little girl getting her first pair of shiny new shoes. The weight that instantly lifted from my shoulders and mind was incredible.   I felt as light as a feather.  The horrible deed was done. 

Why is it that we make ourselves miserable with these unpleasant tasks?  It was a much larger task than if I had kept up with it each week, five minutes at a time here and there.  I know this and yet I still do it.   Perhaps I like the feeling of accomplishment?  Perhaps I’m just lazy?  Perhaps I’m just really really good at procrastinating?  What ever the reason, I need to remember the dreaded feeling and avoid it.  The only way to do that however is to change the behavior.  I need to spend the five minutes next week and keep up with it. I can do this right?  (Again, my mother is laughing.  Do you know how many times I’ve said this?)  This time will be different, just you wait!  

Club Membership Dues

Is this really happening?   It can’t be.  I am not ready for this.   Just two days ago I had to do it though.  I opened my e-mail and there it was. The black and white text stared at me in an 11-point sized font and I could not see the words with ease.  Yes, I had to change the size of the font of my inbox.   This is a travesty to say the least.

I had to squint so much that my eyebrows hurt.    I actually thought someone had changed it without me knowing because the letters were so small and just the day before, I could see them perfectly.  But no, no one changed anything.  It’s just my vision and its youthfulness fading right before my very eyes. (Pun intended.)

I knew this day was coming, as I’ve been in the 40 Something 45º Head Tilt Club for a few months now.  You know the group.  The ones who tilt their heads back while reading the ingredients on the back of the cereal box at the grocery store and do the zoom in zoom out arm dance ‘til they get the right pose.  That would be us.   It’s not embarrassing or awful.  It’s just a club in life that I wasn’t quite ready to pay my membership dues to and attend the daily meetings. I thought I had more time. 

Being a new member, I am still at the Bronze level however, and the zoom in zoom out arm dance seems to still work for me.  I know that in the next year or so, I’ll probably move up to the Silver level and will be invited by the other members to get the standard “I Got Bifocals Today” t-shirt and my first pair of no-line bifocals.  They swear you only trip up the steps the first week, so am hoping that’s the only initiation they’ll put me through.   If it looks like I’m heading to the Gold level though, I’ll let you know.    Most of the Gold level members just forget the glasses entirely and sign up for the bonus package that includes a Silver level person to follow you around and just read everything for you; the menu, the newspaper, your prescription medicine labels and the like.   They are a lovely group of people, but I sincerely hope to enjoy my Bronze level benefits for many years to come.

For now, I am thankful for 14-point sized font, that my arms are long enough and that Tylenol still works for the head tilt neck ache I have each evening.   I’ll let you know when I get my t-shirt, though.  I’m hoping it comes in pink.

Create

Now is the time to…

Create a dinner for your family filled with homemade bread and pie

Create a space to call your own

Create memories for your children that will be told to their children one day

Create a spot in your dresser for special keepsakes

Create a day filled with games and tents in the living room

Create space in your heart to forgive someone

Create time to read to your children, young and old

Create something with your hands

Create a goal to reach in the next month

Create a wall of photographs that make you smile

Create magic in someone else’s life

Create the life you know you are meant to live

My Inner Duck

I’ve always said that in my previous life I was a duck.  I know this because when it’s cloudy, grey and wet outside my heart sings and I want to quack. I love the weather and all its mist and fog.  I don’t know why this is.  Perhaps I was just wired that way when I was born. 

A few mornings ago, I took a picture of the trees along the road as I was driving to meet a friend for coffee.   Isn’t it beautiful?   The trees are there, but not there.  You almost expect a man to come riding out of the fog with a cape flapping behind him looking to deliver an important message to the lady of the house, no? 

I’m so much more productive on days like this.  I get the house cleaned, the laundry done and so many other things accomplished.  When the weather is like this is makes me more reflective on life and how thankful I am for the life I have right now.  It makes me get that warm and fuzzy feeling inside and somehow gives me permission to slow down.  Why? I don’t know, but I do.

At this time of the year, I become obsessed with the weather. (Ok, maybe that’s not completely true.  I’m obsessed with knowing the weather pretty much all the time.  I like to be in the know and be that person who knows what it’s going to be like on Saturday when it’s Tuesday.  I know.  I’m weird that way, but what is a girl to do about it?  I could be obsessed with shoes, which I am not.  Weather. Free. Shoes. Not Free.)

Anyway, I anxiously wait for 10:12 PM to roll around almost any given night so I can watch my favorite weather man stand in front of his green screen and tell me I’m going to have more of my favorite days coming soon. Cold, wet, cloudy and rainy.  At least that’s what I hope he tells me. Even in the middle of winter I hope for this forecast.  (A girl can hope can’t she?) 

Well, this week, I’m in luck.  Here’s the forecast for the next seven days. 

 Can you see my smile through the screen?  It’s there.  I’m giddy and getting that warm and fuzzy feeling about Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.   My inner duck will be quacking with glee.  Quack. Quack.

The Joneses

My feathers get ruffled sometimes.  Sometimes they get bent out of shape and even fall out.  Other times they seem to just get smudged a bit.  However they get ruffled, I don’t like the irritating feeling it brings to the surface of my thoughts. 

Recently I’ve had a serious case of keeping up with the Joneses. Not in the way you think, however.   I don’t feel the need to rebuild our deck, or to hire personal trainers for all of us, or get a new car because everyone else is.  It’s actually been happening in the opposite direction lately.   The Joneses of the world have been questioning or commenting on choices we’ve made about this and that.  A sort of “aren’t you going to send your children to this school or that school?” or “why are you staying home when you could be doing x, y or z?” or “aren’t you going to the Internet safety program this week?” kind of things.  

To be frank, it’s not really a concern of anyone’s but ours as to what we choose to or not to do as a family, with our time and what activities we participate in.  It’s almost as if the Joneses are upset that we aren’t keeping up with them.  It’s been a challenge these last few weeks for me in this area to say the least.   I really try to be respectful of this when I have an opportunity to chat with my children’s parents, our friends and family and our neighbors.  I don’t ever want someone to feel as if they are inadequate because they aren’t doing x, y or z and would never go out of my way to make them feel less for not doing so.

Am I being too general?  Are you still with me?  

I think at times, the Joneses forget that every family is different. We don’t need to attend the Internet safety program at this point because I’m sitting RIGHT there when they are on the computer and if they delete the history, then they aren’t allowed to use the computer.  

Just because we don’t give blood on a regular basis, doesn’t mean we don’t care about our community.  We do many things and participate in many local events to help others.  

  

We will choose a school for both of our children that best meets their needs because WE know our children and how they learn and how they are in the school environment. 

Our schedules are busy, just like the rest of yours are, and if we get a chance to be home together and play Apples to Apples and poker with cheerios, then that’s what we will do.

Our family is unique just like yours is.   We just choose to be less vocal about our activities perhaps than others because that’s how we are.

Don’t get me wrong, though.  I love hearing about what everyone is up to, the concerts, the volunteering, the birthdays, and the new windows going in the house.  I want to hear about all of it, but I don’t want to be made to feel bad for not doing the same.  That’s just not fair.  

I may share certain parts of  our family with the world through this blog, but I don’t share everything here or with friends and family.  Some of that is for us, and for us to call our own and define who we are.  I hope to never make anyone I know ever feel less of a human, parent, mother, father, friend, sister, brother, etc.,  because their activities are different than ours. We all want our families to be well rounded.  I think that’s the common goal we lose sight of, but we must remember that everyone does it differently.  Our way may not be your way, but it works for us and what doesn’t work, we work on.   That’s the beauty of raising a family. 

I love my family and all our quirks and talks and activities and jokes and time together.  It’s our family.  

Tuesday Talk

Some random thoughts and observations on a Tuesday in October.

This morning’s sky was one of witches and broomsticks.   It was the most unusual orange, grey and cloudy sky.   The trees came alive against the backdrop of color, though.  Amazing if I say so myself. Too bad I didn’t have my camera with me. (I’ve now put it in my purse for just these occasions.  Won’t miss out on the next photo op.)

I think I’m losing more hair than ever.   I feel like the autumn leaves of hair.   In a matter of a month I think I could make a pretty decent wig.  Maybe I need to switch shampoos?

If I were to make a list of all the things I need to get done, I think I would have enough to publish a book.   Mind you, these aren’t “buy groceries”, “do laundry” types of things, but more along the line of  “hang pictures in the basement”, “create a school work organizing system” types of things.  The good kinds of things to do, but it seems like there are just so many to do.

Did you know that you can buy a deer head mounted, a pink candy dish, two embroidered pillowcases, an army jacket, old teaspoons, and cow bells all under one roof?   Mom and I (doesn't she look cute in her jacket and scarf? - Four different people told her so!) spent over two hours in an antique mall this afternoon and had a fantastic time checking out all the treasures, trying on hats and laughing together at everything. I bought a $5 farm bucket, my name in Scrabble letters and a vase that says “family” up the side. With such a long name, don't you think it would be worth more than 13 points?  I left the velvet chipmunk however, in section CH45 if you want to pick it up.  It was only $11.95.

She didn't get it.

Antique shop finds

I love the sound of my boys playing outside.  I know I’ve written about this before, but it is the most terrifical sound ever.

Both of my boys came home with report cards today.   Between the two of them, we have a total of 4 A+’s, 10 A’s, and one A-.   How ‘bout them apples?  So proud of them.

If I say “potato”, you say “ricer”.  (You had to have been there.)

I’ve put off turning the heat on for three days now, but it looks like I’m going to have to break down and just turn it on.   The chill is nice outside, but I get a little irritable when it’s inside.  It’s that or put on my gloves with no fingers and a hat and another pair of socks and a ….

My neighbor’s front door is decorated so beautifully with grapevine wreath, fall vines and orange lights in the evening.  I’m so jealous!   I may have to try my hand at keeping up with the Joneses and make me a replica for my very own front door.  I’ll let you know how it turns out.

  

You CAN Get A CAN

Remember my post a few weeks ago, “But My Actions Don’t Show It”?  Well, have I got news for you.   Check out these photos.  We did it.

  

We’ve recycled for two weeks now and it feels great.  We only had three bags of trash in our normal trashcan this week.  Three.  You think I’m joking, but it’s true.   Who knew so much of our trash could be recycled?   It’s a great feeling knowing we have done our part these last two weeks to help cut down on the exorbitant amount of trash that goes out into the world.   

The best part is we actually get “credit” for recycling.  There is a little microchip on the front of our recycle bin that weighs the amount of recycling and “credits” our account with points.  The points (just like travel miles) add up and can be used for free movie tickets, or coupons at restaurants, etc.   It’s a win win situation for everyone.

The best part is that it feels good to be doing good.   We had to make space in the garage for another large trashcan, but we managed to do it and have all been surprised at how easy it was to do.  I probably spent and extra half hour over the last two weeks rinsing bottles and cans, but that’s it.  It really wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.

I would encourage each of you to call your trash company and ask about their recycling program if you haven’t already done so.  They’ll bring you the supplies to do it and in a matter of minutes, that can will be filling up with every used plastic, tin and cardboard scrap you have.  I think I’m going to start saving our “credits” for a trip to Hawaii.  Won’t that make a great blog post!

Do You Hear Voices?

We all want to be heard.  Clearly.  Fully.  Completely.  I think it’s our nature to speak and expect a response.  We want acknowledgement from that special someone, and some days, from anyone, that our words are worthy of someone’s ear.

I was only there for four hours to fill in for their teacher.  They needed to be heard.

“My little brother lost his two bottom teeth and I think he’s growing now and is almost as tall as me.”

“I got this one from my friend’s dad, who travels for work and gets lots of cool things.”

“I love this book because it’s got drama and action and made up things.”

“If you want us to get quiet, you have to turn off the lights.  I don’t think it’s a very good idea to do it all the time though, because then we get used to it and don’t actually get quiet.”

“I have a joke for you.   Knock, knock. Who’s there? I love.  I love who?  I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Is it raining outside yet?  I hope it rains because I don’t want to go to soccer practice tonight.  I don’t like to run.”

Their little voices could have told me stories all day.  I tried to listen as time allowed, but had to cut some of them short so as to stay on task.  That’s hard to do because once one of them gets your attention and tells you their little nugget of a story, then the rest see that you provided attention and a reaction, so assume you will do the same for their story. 

This was only four hours of my day yesterday, but as I sat in bed going over the day in my mind, I realized that we all want someone to just listen to us.  We don’t always need a solution or a huge reaction, but just an opportunity to be heard and be understood.

I find myself cutting off my own children because the phone rings or because I’m getting my shoes on or the cat just threw up.  What am I telling them?  I don’t have time for you right now?  That’s never my intent, but am sure it’s interpreted that way sometimes.  I’ve tried to say, “Let me finish this.  It will take three minutes then I can give you my full attention.”  Easier said than done.   It’s a good practice on paper, but in the midst of things it gets lost.  I need to be more mindful of them and just listen to their voices.  They need me to listen. I need to hear their voices.   Do you hear voices?

A Pretty Little Box

Is it too late to try and decide what I want to be when I grow up?  I hope not because I feel like I’m in eighth grade again and am trying to figure out what I like and don’t like; what is interesting to me and what is not.   It seems this last month, my mind has been spinning in every direction.  Finding focus has become a challenge. 

One minute I’m dreaming of starting my own magazine, the next I’m jotting down ideas for a book, and a minute later I’m thinking about buying a goat and trying my hand at soap making.  Maybe I’m going through a creative dry spell?  Whatever it is, it’s been challenging to say the least.

Maybe I need to keep a journal of all these random thoughts to see if there are any common threads that I can piece together. Maybe I need to just sign up for a class of some sort.  Maybe I need to do a little of everything.  It’s not about being bored, because I am not bored and I have 368 things to get done by the end of the week and love the sense of accomplishment I have when I throw the “to do” list in the trash recycle bin. It’s more about direction.  There are too many paths in front of me that all look very enticing and could sure use a big sign to suddenly drop down from above and point me in the right direction.

I think we are all continually searching for our purpose and perhaps that is what this is about?  I’m not sure.  I’m happy and love being wife and mom at home.  I wouldn’t give it up for anything.  It’s not even about that either.  It’s knowing that I have many talents and gifts that I’ve been given and I’ve put them in a pretty little box on my shelf and keep staring at them instead of opening the box and using them.  I need to act and stop thinking, but act on what?  That’s where I get stuck every time.   Perhaps being stuck is where we have to be at times in order to appreciate the times when we’re not stuck.  Does that make sense?  I hope so. 

Maybe the best solution is to simply put every idea and interest I have into a jar and just pull one out and go for it.  Hmmm.  I wonder if I have a really big jar?  Off to the kitchen.