This One is for My Ladies

There is a bond between women that men will never understand, but will always want to. The sisterhood that comes from simply being female is a complex beast of a relationship that we don't really fully understand ourselves. And I suppose the fact that we don't really need to, ties that bond even tighter. It is mysterious and beautiful, this thing that happens between girlfriends. I am blessed with so many strong, powerful women in my life that I don't dare question it. Rather, I am simply grateful for them and the gifts each generation adds to my life.

To the women in generations before me whose knowing and generous hearts give me encouragement and strength. Whose wisdom helps me see what lies ahead. Whose lessons of life come in simple demonstrations of experience that can simultaneously sadden and awe. For whom the everyday toils of womanhood show up in the laugh and frown lines surrounding your eyes. For those of you who offer guidance in the journey I must define myself. I thank you for your leadership.

To my sisters who have grown with me through the decades, who know me and help me find the way. You pick me up when I fall and show me the truth when I need it most. You know my troubles and I yours. We laugh at the same jokes and cry at the same movies. We have been through birth and death, marriage and divorce, prosperity and poverty, graduations and career changes, moves across the country to living under the same roof together. Yet, we are all still standing, still growing, still working to make a difference in this world, and still holding hands through it all. I thank you for your companionship.

To the little sisters out there - the daughters, the nieces, the little ones still too young to stand on your own feet. The hope in your heart fuels me, keeps me striving, keeps me real. I know that someday I must pass the torch of womanhood on to you. It is to you whom I must gladly answer to when my journey is complete - and I strive to move that torch to new and daring places for you. I thank you for the motivation to always do my best.

This Thanksgiving, in addition to my amazing family, I am thankful to all of my mothers and sisters and daughters for the inspiration and encouragement to keep moving forward and giving me a place where I know I always belong. I may never fully understand the connection and peace that comes from the women in my life - but I will be forever grateful for the shelter of sisterhood they provide.

The Kite, the Wind, and Forgiveness

This week I am honoring and remembering the one year anniversary of an important day in my life. The day I contacted and spoke with my biological father for the first time. And as such, it has me thinking of forgiveness. Until last year I never really understood the concept. I thought it was something I had to work really hard at, something that would gradually appear after years of trying and learning and pushing it forth out of my being. So as you can imagine, it came as quite a surprise when it hit me suddenly and easily, like a kite taking off in the wind. I was instantly as light as a feather and soaring on the breeze. Yet, as I peered down at the at the light of the renewed earth below, I had no idea how I had gotten there. After a year interlaced with the grace of soaring high and the despair of crash landings, I think I may have found a path that leads to forgiveness every time.

You see, forgiveness is really nothing more than acceptance. "I forgive you" and "I accept you" are essentially the same. We all have those people in our life who we think, if only they would change in this way or that - then I could forgive them or if only they would behave more like me forgiveness would be easier. I believe that loneliness is born from these thoughts. Our isolation comes directly from the refusal to accept the unchangeable, and let's face it, people (especially family) are the one thing that fall into the category of unchangeable things 100% of the time. Desire to change a person becomes interpreted by that person as refusal of love, this is where the construction of walls between loved ones begins. Miscommunication pushes us into a downward cycle of the blame game. You think, "If only Fred would put the toilet seat down, then he would be perfect and I could love him in the way he wants" while Fred is thinking, "If only Marge would accept me then I would consider putting the toilet seat down." Our inability to accept the people in our life for all they are (flaws included) becomes a wall between us and those people. Often times the walls we build to shelter and protect ourselves from disappointment, completely obscure us from those who we need to be seen by the most.

It is ironic that we are the ones who become invisible when we refuse to see and accept what is before us. Out of an intention to protect ourselves, we unknowingly isolate ourselves from both the bad and the good within the people we love. We then go and sit on our dark little pity pot and wonder why we feel so alone. In contrast, by accepting how loved ones are different from us and understanding the fact that we have absolutely no power to change those differences, we break little holes in the wall surrounding us. Until suddenly the prison we have built around ourselves completely crumbles, and we begin to see love again. Without consciously forgiving, we automatically acknowledge, and most importantly, reunite our own light with the light inside our loved ones. When we break out of the prison built by grudges, we can soar in the clouds with the wind.  Just like that we can become kites dancing and floating on the breeze. The wind defines the kite, and the kite the wind, as they discover themselves in an amazing and beautiful dance.

Acceptance is all any of us really want isn't it? For someone to say, "I accept you for all that you are. I see you, and I still love you." To honor, rather than criticize one's individual spirit is the greatest gift we can give. What a relief to know that differences are okay. That, in fact, our uniqueness lies somewhere in the space between you and I - that in some ways I get my me-ness from your you-ness. And what a relief to know that I do not have to change you in order to love you. That when I forgive you for your mistakes, when I accept you in spite of those mistakes, I give myself the most precious gift of all, freedom to dance in the space between my heart and yours.

Letting Go of the Left

I recently had the wonderful opportunity to go to a Passion Party. And before you fall into the gutter and get your mind all dirty, it wasn't that kind of party. It’s a gathering for people to discover and clarify what they are passionate about. I went into this party thinking I knew exactly what my passions were. That was my first mistake. Walking in confidently with my homework in tote (a list of 10 things I love to be and do), I was like “I’ve got this. If there is one thing I know its personal development, I’ve read enough books on the subject to start my own self-help bookstore." The party began and the facilitator handed out a worksheet – thinking “this is my kind of party!”- I decided to jump ahead on the worksheet a little, save some time, and maybe even impress the facilitator with my very insightful passions.

I very logically (and cleverly if I do say so myself) went through and combined my ten passions into about four. “Ha!” I arrogantly thought, I’m so efficient I don’t even need the fifth space. That’s right about when the facilitator began going through the instructions for the next step. I was way off, because apparently, thinking is the polar opposite of passion. She wanted us to use an intuitive process where we get in touch with our feelings. Now, I just want to say I value feelings, probably even more than the average person, but this threw me for a loop. I had a really hard time turning my mind off so I could listen to my feelings. As I looked around the room, others were also having this problem. It seems that every day American life is fueled and propelled by our thoughts and logical problem solving skills, to the point where we just can’t hear the intuitional alarms coming from the right side of our brains. Our culture emphasizes the thinking and logic of our left brains to the detriment of our creative and intuitive right brains. For me and my fellow party-goers the domineering left sides just did not want to relinquish control, even when we were consciously trying. This is such a sad thing, because it was truly transformational for me to finally move logic aside and really feel each of the passions on my list. It turns out my list based on feelings was completely different and much more authentic than the one I pumped out of the left side of my brain.

My very first and most important passion turned out to be laughing with my children. Now, I’ve always known this was important, but I had no idea it was the most important thing in my heart. As I moved down the list of things I love – this one beat out all the others. Because each time I would imagine life without my children’s laughter my heart would sink. Their laughter lifts and lightens my heart in dark times. That is something we could all use right now. So, the next time the left side of your brain goes into overdrive to solve all of the world’s problems (which is so easy to do in these times) allow your right brain to step in and imagine the people you love laughing, and see if your own heart doesn’t lighten up and smile just a little.

The Scariest Family on the Block

Halloween engulfed our family like a tidal wave this year. It slowly crept upon us until the Thursday before and then swept us away in its mystery and excitement. Our costumes had plenty of use and we really enjoyed ourselves right up to the part that we had long awaited: Trick-or-treating. My daughter had been counting down the days for weeks, but when we finally came to the moment she had long anticipated, she was so exhausted she didn’t want to do anything but lie on the floor. And, after our marathon of activities leading up to Halloween, which included a stint out of town that had us arriving home to trick-or-treaters two houses away, I couldn’t blame her.

As we pulled into our neighborhood she was sound asleep in the car – you know that deep kind of uncomfortable sleep when you wake to drool dripping down the side of your mouth and a nasty kink in your neck? So she had no idea why mom and dad would so rudely awake her from her slumber. She thought we were crazy as we panicked to get her and the rest of the car unpacked before the fairy and skeleton that were now only one house away showed up to the door in anticipation for their treat. We carried as much as our arms could hold and dropped everything – including the kids – on the kitchen floor as I raced for the candy, and Joe found the lighter to light the all important jack–o-lanterns. It just wouldn’t be Halloween without the lighted pumpkins to welcome the trick-or-treaters. To our surprise and luck – we made it. The pumpkins were lit and candy dumped into the bowl just in time.

By the time we remembered we had two children of our own to attend to, they were little piles on the living room floor. The poor things were a special kind of tired that comes from being filled to the rim with candy and not enough sleep. At this point I seriously considered skipping trick-or-treating, but I just couldn’t do that to the kiddos. We had filled our Halloween with so many fun memories, I wasn’t going to ruin it all by making this year the year with no trick-or-treating. One might say that the kids would forget, but not Charlie – that girl has a memory that ought to be studied by experts. Therefore, we had no choice, trick-or-treating must go on! Our family with two tired, candy filled children led by two exhausted parents, may have been the scariest thing on the street that night, but we knew we had to march on for memories sake.

After coaxing our beautiful Barbie and cute little puppy off the floor and feeding them some real food, we went out. We decided to just go down the street, pure courage could only take us so far. Thankfully, the bravery paid off. Charlie sang “We’re-go-in trick-er-treating” in the sweetest voice as we scurried between houses. And Spencer decided that it was totally awesome to go up to all the houses in the neighborhood. He wasn’t quite sure what they were giving him, but he knew he liked it. The whole process took about 30 minutes and left us with the perfect ending to a really fun Halloween.

Kids are only little once, so we partied it up like rock stars and paid for it all this week. It may have been Fresh Beat Band style partying (you know on Nick Jr?), but I wouldn’t change it for the world. To see Halloween through the eyes of a 1 and 4 year old brings freshness and delight to a holiday that can be staled with age and the cynicism that comes along with maturity. When you think about it – you’re only ever any age once, why not throw pessimism out the door – at least on holidays? So, I would like to thank my children for motivating me to live it up this year and of course a special thanks to all of the houses that offered yellow m&m’s to remind me along the way.

The Laughing Lady

So the other day I was off running errands like a mad woman with both kids in tow. I was at the end of a long string of stop-ins and store-running’s - signing some paperwork at the doctor’s office, while attempting to hold my 18 month old as he did cirque du soleil acrobatics from one arm. Meanwhile, my 4 year old was just beneath me egging him on and stealing his shoes. I was at my wits end when I heard a woman laughing behind me. She had the warm contagious kind of laugh that can draw a person in. So, I turned my head from the madness to see who this was and what could be so funny. To my surprise and utter annoyance I discovered it was me and my children that were cracking her up. I smiled back, not so politely and continued to work on the seemingly impossible task of signing the endless stack of papers before me. As I worked, and cajoled my children to behave, her laugh became louder and even a little infectious. If only I weren’t immunized by the knowledge that she was laughing at me and my very talented acrobat children, I might have laughed too. But, I was too engaged in my task – too worried about getting things done in time for the Holy Grail for mothers – both children asleep simultaneously. I knew I only had about 25 minutes before one or both would get their second wind – and then my dreams of a peaceful afternoon were out the window. The last paper presented itself; I signed it and turned around triumphant in my victoriously productive day of errands with the kids. I glanced at the laughing lady who was almost in tears from her giggling, fully intending to throw a sarcastic “you’re welcome for the entertainment” at her, when she said “My kids are all grown. Sorry for laughing, but you and your children were bringing back so many wonderful memories.”  And all I could do was smile back – politely this time.

At that point I realized my children were definitely growing up someday – and that perhaps I ought to stop wishing the time away. Because as exhausting and difficult as it is to be a parent of two small children who are completely dependent on you for EVERYTHING, I will miss it when they are gone. The chubby little feet and tiny hands enveloped within my own are only temporary.

That evening as I tucked my 4 year old into bed, who believes our lives are stories, just like the movies and books she watches and reads, said this:

“This is our story mom?”

“Yes honey.”

“Someday I will have my own story?”

“Yes.”

“But, you will always be in my story, right?”

“Forever” I said.

And I knew that with each new stage of life comes the beautiful blessing of new experiences. That as we say good-bye to each passing day – a new one lies just ahead. And as good as it feels to be “productive” according to cultural standards there is nothing more productive than raising a child well – being fully present for each moment on their journey to guide them and pick them up when they fall from the amazing acrobats of life.

The Near Poop Incident….

On our 2 hour drive home from Easter festivities, we experienced a near poop incident with our four-year old daughter. Right as we hit a stretch of highway lacking in exits with any type of civilization, my daughter said she had to go to the bathroom. We acknowledged her request and asked if she could wait just a few more minutes. She said yes, but the look on her face was not convincing, and about 2 minutes later it was clear that we had run out of time. To cries of “It’s coming, it’s coming”, my husband and I panicked to find a way to help her. In the midst of the chaos I remembered that I had put an emergency potty in the back of the car for just this kind of situation. So, my husband pulled over on the side of the freeway and I raced out of the car to get the potty. Now, before I go on to the next part I have to tell you that all of this happened in a span of about 20 seconds; And, I was very motivated by the prospect of cleaning up a very messy situation. Time was my enemy.

So, as I ran to the back of the car and swung the door open, I had completely forgotten about our dog. Captain Nemo jumped out of the car as soon as I opened the door. Now, mind you, we were approximately 3 feet from cars going at least 70 mph, and Captain went right for the road. In that split second I saw about 25 different possibilities in which our whole family ended up either in the hospital or the morgue. So I threw myself on top of Captain’s hind quarters as he continued to lurch toward his inevitable demise. Just to give you a visual he is a 100 pound black lab who is very strong, and I am a petite woman. After what seemed like an hour of forceful wind from the speeding cars taking my breath away, I grabbed a hold of his back hair and pulled him on top of me as I fell backward. After ushering him safely back into the car and finding the potty I was walking around in circles at the side of the expressway, trying to figure out how to get my daughter the relief she needed. The only thing I knew for sure was that getting her out of the car anywhere near the speeding cars, was not an option. This is when my hero, otherwise known as my husband leaped into action. He pulled me into the car hopped into the back, grabbed the potty, and pulled Charlie out of her seat to the back with him. Within seconds she was on the potty doing her business and I was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

Thankfully, she was able to hold it until Joe delivered the potty and so I assisted in the rationing of baby wipes and dispensing of the contents of the potty. Before I knew it we were back on the road. The entire incident lasted less than 5 minutes, but I will never forget the lessons in those short moments. Life really can be taken away in a blink of an eye. And even if you are one of the lucky ones to survive to a ripe old age, life goes by too quickly to waste even one moment with things that don’t really matter. Things like grudges and insecurities and fear and resentment. All I could think as I held on to Captain next to was “We aren’t done living yet! God please help us!” I swear there must have been an angel sent to help me pull that dog away from the road, because I have no idea how I was able to keep him from going forward, and for that I am eternally grateful.

After the incident my husband and I were talking about all of the possible outcomes for the day and we both agreed that next time no one gets out of the car. All of that risk over a little bit of poop was not worth it. Later that evening after we were home safe and unpacking from the trip, Joe came out of nowhere and gave me the tightest, biggest bear hug and the sweetest kiss. When I asked what it was for he said that he just imagined his life without me and it scared him, then he kissed me on the forehead again and said “I am so glad you are my wife”. These are the moments I want to spend my life on, appreciating my family and friends while they are right here right now, because while there are no guarantees they will always be here with me, I don’t even want to imagine life without them. So hug the ones you love today and remember to give them a little yellow m&m of their own to cherish.

Another Little Yellow M&M?

God is funny. Just when you think you are all alone and it’s time to take matters into your own hands, He (or She!) shows up like a personal cheerleader. I tend to forget that grace can appear in the most unexpectedly wonderful ways. I have been feeling lost for some time now and I just finally asked for a little direction last week; a sign, anything that would give me a clue about which way to turn at this juncture in my life. On Friday, God answered in a big way. As I entered our car to attend a study session for blogging, I looked at the seat to find another little yellow m&m gleaming at me like a tiny little ray of sunshine. Now one might think we just eat a lot of m&m’s in our house, but I assure that is not the case (4 big bags a week is normal, right?). I am certain there was as much meaning behind this m&m as the first. And so, I looked up, smiled, said thank you, and (I think you will be happy to hear) reached down and ate that little yellow m&m without even a hint of hesitation. His answer was clear – go straight ahead and you will end up where you need to be.

That is a really hard thing to do for some of us isn’t it? I mean just follow the road you are on until you see a sign telling you which way to turn. I like a map when I go into uncharted territory. And boy do I have a lot of maps lying around our house. Plans and to-dos, goals and aspirations, charts, spreadsheets, and actual maps since my husband is essentially a map-maker, you name it and I have a piece of paper to direct and focus what needs to happen and why. The thing about all of those papers is this: My life never goes as planned. Ever. Period. I am finally learning that the only significance to any plans I may have is they help me define what I want and need to do in my life. All of those little notes I make about how to get there, might as well be gibberish. Now, don’t get me wrong I still find value in planning and I still make the plans, very detailed ones in fact – because I’m crazily addicted to organizing gadgets and I like to think I am in control of how my life unfolds. But, I am learning not to fight God when he veers off of the chart I have just tabulated in Google docs, because his way is ALWAYS better.  I find that when I just go with his flow and follow the signs he inevitably posts, my life sails more smoothly than I can even dare to imagine.

Which brings me back to the reason I needed to ask for help in the first place, someone I love very dearly told me the epiphany I received after finding the first little yellow m&m represented something far greater than I even imagined. She told me that the yellow m&m was the sun that I, and all women really, had been desperately seeking over the long, dark winter. And the call to action I had felt was to take that tiny bit of sunlight into the lives of as many women as I could reach. To deliver joy into the lives of women is no small task. And while I really wanted her explanation to be true – it freaked me out! I doubted her words – I doubted myself. It seemed like such a big mission for little insignificant me. And so, I went inside of myself and questioned her interpretation of the infamous yellow m&m that had landed in my seat. I felt she was right, but I did not have the how I needed. And so over the last few weeks I have planned and replanned and thought and calculated about how I could force this idea into being until I actually got sick of using Google docs and all of my little organizing tools (gasp!).  It was when I stopped trying so hard that I could finally see what was there all along.

God unveiled lots of little signs that I followed right to the second yellow m&m and this ultimate conclusion:  Put your need to control aside, open your eyes, listen closely, and God will unfold the opportunities that have been waiting for you all along. When we put too much time into the planning of our lives we forget to do the one thing we are meant to do – LIVE! Cry when you need to, laugh when its hard, hope when your lost, and love through it all. Collect those small moments of life and pull them out when you need to be reminded that you are alive; pick up one of those little rays of sunshine that most people call yellow m&m’s and remember that life really is all about the journey.

Purpley Toes

Last night I decided to paint my toes purple. I was so excited with the outcome that I’m pretty sure I asked my husband about five hundred times if he liked my new purple toes – and with each prompting he would glance and murmur something that sounded like yes; I was so disappointed. I’m not sure what I expected, perhaps I wanted him to jump off the couch and kiss each toe in pure delight or create an impromptu song and dance about my perfect purple toes. I suppose I continued to ask because I simply could not fathom why he was not as elated as I was. But, looking back I can’t say that I have ever been too enthusiastic over the painting of another’s toes, so I couldn’t blame him for his lack of interest.  The contrast in our responses to my lovely lavender toes sparked a curiosity: Why exactly was I so happy about my purple toes?

I think many of you will relate that it is a big deal to find the time and motivation to do something as playful as painting your toenails in the middle of winter, with no impending event where one might see said toes. And I am certain that my degree of happiness had more to do with the idea that I was giving myself a little unscheduled, unplanned, and unnecessary attention than the nail polish itself. Having two small children dictates that I do not do these things fortuitously, only after I have taken care of all of the very important tasks and responsibilities on one of my many lists, do I normally allow myself such an indulgence. The problem with this approach is it can lead to months of unpedicured, chipped toenails and a whole list of other neglected areas.

Laura Ingalls-Wilder once said, “It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.” This week, painting my toenails was one of the sweet, simple things in my life. Those purple toes reminded me to take the time to love myself in the way that I love each member of my family. I tend find caring for myself too luxuriously a bit frivolous and fanciful. It is really hard for me to justify spending time on things like painted toenails when the stack in my inbox is as high as Mount Kilimanjaro. There is always something more worthy and much less selfish calling for my attention. But, sometimes taking time to nurture ourselves is the least selfish thing a woman can do.

When we remember to nourish and love ourselves a little, our families can benefit. Marking little happy things on our calendars just for ourselves can recharge our batteries. And when our hearts are fully charged, caring for others can be refreshing. We just need to be careful, or as a friend of mine says, gentle with ourselves. Don’t forget to gift yourself with time to replenish so you can be there for those who need you.

 The concept to put a little care into ourselves is so simple, yet it is not easy to incorporate into our daily routines when we lead such demanding lives. I think it is so sad that many of us (me included) will continue to run on empty until our bodies send a very uncomfortable and rude awakening. And yet, it is much easier to postpone personal enrichment until it is eventually forgotten, sucking you into the downward cycle of an unconscious life. Protect yourself and the ones you love from this kind of negativity by taking time to rest and maybe even have a little fun – give yourself a little so you can give the world your heart.

I am so thankful to my exciting purple toes for reminding me that sometimes you have to put the lists aside and just relish in those sweet, simple things. I did a little research on little things you can do to keep your energy and spirits high. Here are some of the ideas I found:

Wake before the kids. Have a cup of tea and do a little inspirational reading and then get yourself ready before the kids wake, you might miss out on some sleep, but it is worth it because you feel centered and strong when it is time to get the day going.

Someday maybe lists. Keep a list of all the things you might want to do someday and add to it often. The fact that it says maybe takes some of the pressure off.

Eating a healthy lunch. Try to make something healthy and delicious for lunch as a little treat midday to keep your energy going. For instance, look at yummy salads from your favorite restaurants and replicate them – it’s just as good and as a bonus you’ll save money.

Self grooming. Doing fun little things for yourself like an at home mani and pedi or facial will make you feel special.  

Exercise. Moving your body and working your muscles does as much for your mind and spirit as it does for your body – I hear it’s really not so bad once you get into the habit.

Flowers. Buy yourself some flowers and smell them every time you walk by.

This is just a sampling of the many things we can do. We are all so different and have so many great ideas on how to incorporate little nuggets of happiness into our days, I would love to hear all of your tricks – Please share any that come to mind!

FaceBook Addict?

So how much time do you spend on FaceBook? Really? Be honest now. Upon answering this question for myself I found that while I am certainly prone to getting sucked in for an hour at a time, I am more of a walk-by FaceBooker. I check when I have a quick minute to see if there is anything exciting happening, leave comment or two, and go on my way. I do it this way because I feel like it is less consuming. But, perhaps my method is what led my husband to voice concerns about my social networking - all of those small moments add up to a good chunk of time and a lot of distraction. And for me, time is the most valued asset I have. I try to be very conscious of where I spend each precious moment, so it seems a bit contradictory that I would squander even a second on FaceBook. This apparent inconsistency nagged at me enough to ponder the reason behind my borderline addiction. My conclusion was simple – connection. Staying home with my children full time is the most wonderful part of my life. I. Love. It. Period. It’s the being home all day with little to zero adult contact that takes a toll on my well being, and FaceBook relieves some of that isolation.

Social networking offers a little window into the world of my friends and family and more importantly, allows me a place to be heard. It reminds me of one of my all time favorite quotes from the movie, Shall We Dance. Susan Sarandon’s character profoundly says this: “We need a witness to our lives. There are 6 billion people on the planet... I mean, what does any one life really mean?” This is what I think makes social networking so popular. Having a witness to our lives– or 138 in my case.  

This realization led me to my next question: How is there any isolation or sadness in our hearts when we are more interconnected than the human mind has ever dared to conceive. FaceBook offers such an amazing tool of connection, and yet I still feel so alone some days. It feels really selfish to admit this on such a public forum, because there are so many good things in my life. To be more precise, so many good people – and it feels like I am somehow dishonoring their love by acknowledging my occasional bouts of melancholy. Yet, if I am to be honest they do exist.

To be clear I have a particularly strong network of love. My support comes in the form of 2 beautiful children, 1 amazing husband, 3 mothers, 3 dads, 4 sisters, 5 brothers, 11 aunts, 7 uncles, and more cousins and friends than I can count. Now, I am not flaunting a list of my very large family to boast – just to make a point. If a person like me who is so blessed with so many wonderful, loving people in her life can be knocked down by the weight of depression, what gives?

I think the answer may come in the form of a little life philosophy I have developed: We all (yes even you) have a little crazy person hiding in the shadows of our brain. Or as Ursula Le Guin put it, “What sane person could live in this world and not be crazy?” I often joke that there are two Shawna’s, one is normal and the other is crazy. I try to keep “Crazy Shawna” locked away in an asylum. But, every now again she wriggles out of her white jacket and wreaks havoc on my life in the form of insecurity and fear. She is incapable of seeing the large safety net of friends and family that “Normal Shawna” leans on every day.  She searches for evidence that will verify her hypothesis of aloneness and in the process isolates herself from those who would pull her out of the darkness. Thankfully, as I get older and possibly wiser, “Crazy Shawna” makes her appearance less often. Probably because I now know she is always there ready to take control if I let her.

I have learned to pacify this craziness with tools that can keep “Normal Shawna” in control– and connection is a power tool in my toolbox of life. It is so easy to close the door and pull down the blinds in our private lives, shutting out those who care. Turning inward and obsessing about the hard circumstances of our life seems to be the only option when we are feeling so beaten down. But, there are always other, less crazy choices. Here are a few I have learned over the years from my favorite self-help gurus:

1)    1)  Be pre-emptive. If you know there is a certain time of year when your crazy person comes out to play, prevent her arrival by telling friends and family that she might sneak out. Ask them to check up on you, forcefully if necessary.

2)    2)  Get moving. I know you’ve heard it a thousand times for thousands reasons – but, your brain actually needs exercise in order to function properly according to John Medina, neurologist and author of Brain Rules. So hold off your crazy counterpart with the strength you gain from working out, and even better find a friend who needs to tame her crazy person and work out together.

3)      3) Learn something new. Take a class on anything that seems remotely interesting – this can act as a distraction when crazy is rattling her cage.

4)     4)  Find at least one person in your life you can trust. Your husband, best friend, mother, aunt, uncle, daughter, sister, cousin, pastor or even therapist. We all need someone to confide in, and trust me yourself doesn’t count – that just puts you with the really, really crazy people.

5)    5)  Spirituality. An empty soul is a sad soul. Invite God to join you – and you will truly never be alone.

6)    6)  Give your crazy side a run for her money. Act silly - do something outrageously out of character. Kids are really good at this one; if you don’t have any of your own I highly suggest borrowing a few off a friend, they always come up with the best ideas.

7)    7)   Remember, no matter how bad things may get, you are not alone – there are many people who have faced circumstances similar to yours, and maybe your inner crazy person can connect with theirs. (And it can help to remember there is always someone going through something much worse than you – think Haiti. Not to disqualify your feelings of hurt – just to put them in perspective).

8)     8)  Dance! I personally prefer any and all ghetto, booty music – the dirtier, the better. And remember the more the merrier…there is something so freeing about dancing like there is nobody watching even when there is.

9)      9) Get quiet. Tame that crazy woman inside by silencing your mind. Whether you call it meditation or prayer – it really makes a difference to go inward and just listen to the beauty all around. Sometimes, if you get still enough – you can hear the true prayer of your heart.

10   10) Finally and quite possibly the MOST effective tool: Share yellow m&m’s with all the crazies you meet along the way!                                                                                                                                                    

Jagged Little Pride

Swallowed any pride lately? I just did and it was sort of like when you accidently swallow a potato chip that is only partially chewed. You feel it scraping the whole way down and for a split-second you think it just might rip open your throat and kill you. It’s pretty unpleasant, but once it passes there is complete and utter relief because you made it through alive. Yup, that is exactly how I feel.

I wonder what makes saying I’m sorry - or even worse saying I’m wrong - so difficult. Is it the little argument (or occasionally all out war) that you have in your head beforehand? My mind moves swiftly between defense and offense, listing explanations and reasons and excuses about why I am justified in my actions– while that judgmental little voice nags in the back of my head telling me why all those reasons are complete and utter B.S.; and let’s be frank here, I know which voice is right from the beginning, but I try to justify anyway.

Isn’t it frustrating knowing what’s right does not make things easier? You would think righteousness would make everything easier, but it doesn’t because righteousness is holding onto a huge, jagged edged potato chip with wrong written all over it. You have to swallow down all of the wrong in order to get to the right. And boy does it hurt to force it down. It is as if that one little act of taking blame threatens who you are as a person.

It is human to want to believe that we are good, right? We need to trust we are living a life of meaning and justice. Sometimes, I think we hide behind a façade of perfection in hopes that we will be loved for our humanitarian efforts. We seem to think goodness makes us more human somehow. But the truth is much messier isn’t it? We aren’t always good, precisely because we are human. We make mistakes. We get insecure and defensive and flat out careless sometimes. Why is it such a crime to be human in our own minds? How often have you put yourself on trial for behaving poorly? How often do you put others on trial for their humanness? (I personally enjoy these trials much more than my own). Why is it so hard to just let things go? To just live and let live?

Forgiveness is a word that is carelessly thrown around in our culture and so I thought I understood how to forgive and what it conveys. But, I never really grasped its true meaning until I felt real forgiveness for another who had wronged me. It tore down walls within I never knew I had built. Forgiveness created space for love in my heart which cascaded gracefully throughout my life. Eventually that wave of forgiveness allowed me to absolve even myself. There is nothing more freeing than forgiving yourself and those you love for being simple humans. And yet, I still struggle to admit fault.

And so as I sit here, my throat still sore from all I swallowed by accepting blame, feeling the sting of humiliation. I realize it is exactly because I am human that I must sometimes force down my need for righteousness. My humanity demands it from me. Knowing I’m wrong and saying it gives me the opportunity to wash that hard, crooked, sharp potato chip down with the love and relief of a little yellow m&m (The Yellow M&M), and for that I am grateful.

On Being a Parent

Okay, so yesterday was an interesting day. I somehow figured this out as we were sitting at the dinner table with our children screaming in unison, a barking dog, and a kitten having digestive problems (otherwise known as diarrhea). Did I mention the phone was ringing too? My exhausted husband and I began to get upset and then realizing our efforts were futile just started laughing – because there was literally nothing else we could do. And so rather than joining the craziness by adding even more screaming, we proceeded to have a pleasant conversation about our day, literally shouting  over all of the chaos. Occasionally stopping to address our 3 year old when she had crossed the line, and overall I left the dinner feeling it was a fruitful conversation. Not necessarily because it was extraordinarily engaging, but rather because my husband and I made it through without resorting to a verbal wrestling match over the whole scene.

Now, fortunately I was able to escape the madness shortly after dinner to go and meet a friend (thank you honey). Upon telling her and another childless friend the story, rather dramatically resting my head in my hands and rubbing my face I might add. I glanced up to see the look of horror on their faces. What struck me was not that they were looking upon me with such concern, but rather I thought I was telling funny story of perseverance and triumph over the extreme exhaustion of parenting, but I don't think they got that. Instead what I had done was effectively spook them about ever having any children of their own. I proceeded to talk about the fact that raising small children is so unbelievably tiring and difficult, not taking into consideration that I might be scaring the pants off of both of them. So this blog is for them, and my other friends who have not had children – I need to rectify some things about being a parent that I left out.

First and foremost, I want to impart how absolutely and undeniably humbling it is to be a parent. No one is as honest as a child and no one is as special as your own child. Combine those two facts and you get a crash course on what it really means to take yourself with a grain of salt. You have so many plans and ideas about how you will raise your children. You prepare with books and magazine articles that teach you the 10 steps to being a great parent, convinced this is all you need to be ready for the job. You even bring these articles to the waiting room of your prenatal visits like some kind of badge of readiness and ability to parent (or was that just me?). But, the truth is nothing can prepare you for the wonder and pure love that awaits you in your baby’s eyes. Having a child reminds you how precious life is, and also how imperfect. How no matter what plans you make – God may have something else in mind for you. How sometimes you just don’t have the answers. How sometimes just surviving another evening without anger and yelling is an accomplishment in and of itself.

Now I am not here to deify parents or parenting in any way. We are all in a constant flux of worry and extreme joy within any given moment; believe me, I wouldn’t wish that kind of mood fluctuation on anybody. And yes those of us with young ones look harried and tired most of the time for a reason – namely complete and utter fatigue. There have been moments (usually when I have had a total of 6 hours of sleep in a 48 hour period) when I have entertained the notion that my children may be trying to destroy me. Now, stick with me here because maybe they are – but not in the intentionally cruel and destructive horror movie sense. Maybe they are tearing down walls and preconceptions that I have developed over the span of my life, because they are meant to push me beyond my comfort levels. They really are ripping through my selfishness and teaching me the beauty of complete compassion and love for another human being. They are essentially destroying the limitations and walls I have built around myself over the years. Teaching me that yes I can survive and even thrive on very little sleep. That stress is there to remind me of my humanness – to remind me of my failures - instructing me to embrace those very failures because they are gift. Giving me a chance to remember to always get back up when I fall down. To always reach out for help when I need it and that sometimes my “plans” are not as important as the lessons I can learn from the ruin of those plans. Because what often takes the place of those plans is something much more precious than I dared to imagine. 

As John Lennon put it in his song Beautiful Boy, “Life is just what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” And that is so true isn’t it? As a parent and recovering perfectionist I am so guilty of making plans and ignoring the life that is happening all around me. And sometimes, it takes a dinner of screaming children and barking dogs and laughter to remind me that life is always happening whether I plan it or not.

So, to my friends who have not taken the leap of faith and sanity required to knowingly produce a child, know this: The treasures of being a parent greatly outweigh the challenges by far. As I emphatically mentioned above, children are exhausting, but they are much more wonderful than you can imagine too. Please do not allow the fear of screaming, crazy, demanding children keep you from one of life’s greatest gifts. Please look onto my dark circles, frizzy hair and snot stained clothes with courage, because behind all of that is a woman who’s heart is full. You will certainly need a really big jar of yellow m&m’s (The Yellow M&M) to remind you of this, but assure you will not regret the sunshine and hope a child can bring.

Company is Coming!

Upon waking this morning I realized I survived something significant over the weekend. In fact, I had even prospered and hopefully made a new friend. You see we entertained visitors from out of town. Now this normally puts me in an all out frenzy of intense cleaning the entire week beforehand. I ignore the kids and drive my husband insane in the hopes of having my home in pristine condition by the time the guests arrive. I have caught myself literally following my family with a mini-vac sucking up the evidence of their existence as they go about their day. Or behaving like a paranoid conspiracy theorist because I just know my husband has left that sock on the floor to put me in a padded room. In my moments of clarity the level of perfection I strive for never ceases to amaze me, and this time it pushed me to ask what am I trying to accomplish with all of this?

Do I want our guests to think this house is not lived in? Do I want them to exclaim they are proud or jealous? Or worse, was I challenging them to a duel of some sort….look at me, my house is perfect, I win – so what if you didn’t know we were in a competition! I imagine that this little craziness of mine can, and probably has been interpreted in all of these ways.  When I dig deep I find that what I am looking for is acceptance.  When I dug even deeper I recognized all I wanted was to have a nice time. No praise, no judgment, no competition – just the simple pleasure of their company.

As I was preparing the mountain of work that I impose upon myself before visitors come, I decided to turn things down a notch. I vacuumed. I dusted. I did the dishes - but, I did not use the fine tooth comb to which I have become attached over the years – and this made me VERY uncomfortable.  In fact, I had to make a promise to myself so I would not turn into a tornado of mops and furniture polish. I promised to live as I live when nobody is here to watch me. Picking up as I needed to and letting things go when necessary. I would trust myself to get everything of priority done without allowing the fear of judgment rule my actions. Yes my friends, I made a promise to be human – and to maybe even have a little fun. So, I filled a jar with yellow m&m’s (read The Yellow M&M) and ate one when I felt the need to use a toothbrush on the kitchen counter grout.

It was hard, very hard, not to get the vacuum out or follow my 3 year old around like some kind of maniac picking up the toys as she played throughout the day, but I did it. And I had fun. I was a human being. I spent time getting to know our guests, I cooked, drank wine and played scrabble. I went out on the town and sat on the couch to watch movies. I allowed the weekend to fall where it wanted and it was deliciously imperfect. Don’t get me wrong here, I ate about 92 yellow m&m’s, I am still a recovering perfectionist, but what I learned was priceless and beautiful.

The thing about having another woman in your home is she knows your disposition. And so is an empathetic partner who is not there to judge. She understands the craziness that comes with having a guest in your home – and without fail, like some kind of angel she steps up and just helps out in every way she can. There is a connection, a sisterhood if you will, amongst women. An unsaid covenant that we will never let the other work alone – a woman steps up to do what is needed and her sisters follow and carry the load with her. There is no need for competition. No need for perfect, because the perfection lies in our connection to one another. Trust that you are not alone on this journey – you are walking on the hands of all women before you. They are carrying you through this messy, crazy, wonderful life – easing your burden and offering yellow m&m’s with the loving, helping hands of a mother who knows.

Dishes in the Sink

So, while talking to a friend about various household annoyances she profoundly says this “A woman completely judges her self worth based on whether or not there are dishes in the sink.” I had to laugh at the statement because it was so completely and sadly true. Now I should tell you that there is an all out war against the dishes in my house. I have theories that they are conspiring against me to test my sanity and possibly move me into the loony bin. I believe that it is completely possible that the dishes reproduce once in the sink; any of you who have children or even just a husband (or live alone for that matter) can vouch for this. So in the spirit of true transparency I must admit that I have a vendetta against dishes before moving on.

Shortly after our discussion the holiday season exploded and this concept screamed out to me so loudly, I couldn’t help but balk about it to my fellow female family members. Now I am not sure how parties go in your family, but here is a synopsis of how the parties go in our family: the woman of the house cooks all day, we all sit down to eat, and when we finish the men promptly remove themselves from the table, unbutton their pants, and plant themselves firmly on the sofa for the remainder of the evening. Meanwhile, us women got up, cleared the table and got to the work of doing the mountain of dishes scattered throughout the house. An hour or so later we offer dessert, the men come to eat again, go back to the TV and then we clean up again. All the time doing the majority of care giving for the children in the house.

Now I am not mad (well maybe a little) at the guys for relaxing after a heavy meal. In fact, I’m mostly jealous of their ability to relax with such complete abandon at a holiday party. I realize doing the dishes is a choice we made, the part that gets me going is the underlying assumption that we would be the ones to do them. No offers from the men, and no asking from the women. By the time us girls were finished in the kitchen we were all exhausted and ready to call it a night, while the guys were ready to party it up (after their luxurious naps, I might add). My question is this, “Aren’t parties supposed to be fun?” Isn’t that the point when we are planning it? In my head I plan a party more perfect than a picture out of a Martha Stewart magazine, kill myself preparing and living up to that image throughout the party and before I know it – it’s over, and I forgot to have any fun because I was so worried about how the amount of dishes in my sink would be judged. So why to some women do this to themselves?

 We are taught from an early age that clean dishes equal a clean house, and a clean house equals a good woman. Is this really how we want to be remembered on our deathbed? She was an ok person, but boy was her house clean! Why the connection to our self worth? A cultural legacy of homemaking has embedded the idea that dirty dishes equal a dirty house, and a dirty house equals a lazy woman, and a lazy woman isn’t worth anything at all. Yes perhaps that is over simplified, but when talking to some other women about this idea there was unanimous agreement (even the ones who’s men sometimes help with the dishes).  And for those of us who stay at home with the kiddos this equation becomes even more intense and true. For example, I have a list that is approximately 15-20 items long that I do everyday to ensure that I stay focused on what needs to be done for that day (and yes the dishes are always on the list). There is a part of me that creates it, checks it off, and leaves it on the table so my husband will see it and know that I have worked hard that day. Just to clarify, he does not hold me to this, nor does he care if the house is perfect when he gets home – the need to do this comes from my own extreme requirement to have tangible proof of my own self worth each day. Granted this is only a subconscious undertone, but how crazy for it exist at all! And to clear the record I know I am making a generalization here and there are many women out there who are completely fine with dishes in the sink – I even know some women like this (and if one of you happens to be reading this please bestow us with your wisdom!)– but I believe there are many more of us who are still holding onto an outdated view that a perfect home reflects a perfect woman.

Now let’s be clear I like clean dishes as much as the next person. And I wash the dishes in my home daily, there is no judgment from me on whether or not cleaning a house is a worthy thing to do with your time. I also am not saying that cleaning your home in itself is a representation of oppression of women, that to be worthy you should be out in the world working as an executive for some corporation. In fact just the opposite, do what you love and be aware of your motivation. My big point is this; don’t do the dishes because the “dishes gremlin” is in the back of your mind accusing you of being rubbish. Do the dishes if you like to do the dishes. Do the dishes because it is your turn.  Do the dishes because they need to be done. Just don’t do the dishes out of a fear that you are somehow less because they are in the sink. At no time are dishes in the sink a manifestation of your value as a person. Dishes will never tell the story of your soul. Your inner light shines bright and beautiful even when there is no shiny pot reflecting it back out to the world.

 And so as I prepare to launch an attack my own dishes today, I am humbled by the decision I am making. Not because of the little voice that beckons me out of fear of judgment and worthlessness. But, because I want to have a clean kitchen and I realize that if I don’t feel like it, it is perfectly acceptable to go grab one of those little yellow m&m’s and enjoy that instead.

The Yellow M&M

As I got into the car after a hurried trip to the grocery, in my seat laid a yellow m&m. My stomach grumbled, urging me to eat it, but the little gremlin who controls my diet piped up “Don’t you eat that!, You’ll ruin everything!”. So, instead I sat on it and continued to my next destination. After an invigorating discussion with my Women’s Networking Group, I returned to my car only to find that damn yellow m&m staring at me again – this time daring me to eat it. Representing all of the things I could not have, all of the ways I was depriving myself and limiting what I could and could not do. For what?!? For thinness? For perfection?

You see I am a mother of 2 small children and so the role models I look to fluctuate between Eva Longoria and Martha Stewart. I tell myself that if I could just be perfect in every way then just maybe what I do each day will be worth something. Don’t get me wrong, I know that Mothers are valued on the surface, but let’s be real shall we? Very few girls are supported to have the dream to be a mother. It is a worthy job, but a thankless job when it comes to putting any value of substance on it. It is isolating, scary, rewarding, filled with love, frustrating, and did I mention lonely?

These are the thoughts that run through my head as I look at that yellow m&m in the seat of my car. My power as a woman and a mother seemed to exist in my willpower not to eat that little circle disk.  So, as I drove home from the meeting (sitting on the yellow m&m) I thought about all of the ways I withhold my own power from myself. Always creating a new goal before the next is reached. Always taking responsibility for EVERYTHING in our home. Always undervaluing the worth of my work.  All the ways our culture undervalues my work. 

And then I started to get pissed. Pissed because I matter, even if America doesn’t want to recognize it. Pissed because I have been sitting on my own power, both literally and figuratively, because our culture has been implicitly telling not to make any waves. As I reached my driveway I was feeling strong from my anger, and so I removed myself from that little yellow m&m, and as a symbol of my power and fortitude of being a strong, magnificent woman, I reached down, grabbed that yellow m&m and ate it. I crunched into that sweet hard candy shell, felt the soft chocolate within wash over my mouth and I realized that they cannot hold me back any longer.

By “they” I mean the looming “they”. The “they” there is no name for. The “they” that is the accepted state of our culture. The “they” that perpetuates the stereotypes and oppression of moms in our country. Yes I am talking about the “they” that is us. Our own actions have perpetuated the myths that hold us down as moms. The myth that we cannot have a fulfilling career AND be amazing mothers. The myth that we cannot have both and be happy to our core. Yes it is us moms who are most guilty of allowing these beliefs to sink into our psyche. We then allow the guilt to slowly devour us from the inside until there is little left of our hearts to give to others, let alone our ourselves.

I am frustrated by the amount of time I have wasted with this idea of “perfect mom”. And maybe this anger turns some of you off, but my hope is that it inspires passion in your heart. False contentment has never sparked passion. Lives are not prompted to change by satisfaction with the status quo. Change is sparked by the person who stands up and says I am not happy here – and then proceeds to move, leading anyone who will follow.  This community is about those of you who want change, but have lost the passion and direction you need to make those changes. My hope is that I will infect you with passion, and if a bit of anger is what it takes to get you moving then I am here to provide that. Eat that yellow m&m if for no other reason than you can and you deserve it!

Some of us are walking through a hallway of a thousand open doors and we see none of them because we have on blinders that force our vision to the narrow, never ending length of an empty hallway. Some of you want and need more in your lives and I am here to support you and tell you that sometimes you have to stand up for your dreams. Rip off the blinders forced onto you by a society that does not value you and see the possibilities that God is offering in each moment of this amazing blessed life.

This is a community for women who are tired of being undervalued. Women who need inspiration and connection to fend off the isolation that comes with being a mom, a place to be lifted up to your own personal power and success. This is not a place for moms to be compared to the lie of perfection in media driven images. Pictures of mothers with perfect bodies, perfectly cleaned and decorated homes, and perfectly behaved children not welcome….oh no this is a place for real mothers, powerful women who like nothing more than to eat yellow m&ms dammit!