I've Moved!

1000 Words has a new home - at my website.  Please check it out here.

Thanks for reading!

MEANING

Here is the world.  

Beautiful and terrible things will happen.  

Don't be afraid.  

~Frederick Buechner

Flowers never last very long when my husband brings them home.  It's sad, really, that they bloom, get chopped, sunk in a vase with minimal rations of food and water, and wait to die.  The flowers he brought me the other day he got for free, which made me like them even more being that they were roses, but still, no matter what the price, the fact that they are so beautiful and yet spend very little time here has me wondering: Why?

What is the purpose of creating something so delicate and pretty and pleasing and giving it little chance to do the job it was made to do?  In this case, that would be sit on my table and get my husband bonus points, but I'm not just talking flowers here.  I'm talking about everything.

I could sit here all day and babble about how I am a religious person, and I do believe there is a reason and a purpose and a plan.  And don't get me wrong, I'm not disagreeing with or mistrusting or questioning Him.  I'm just trying to sort it out for myself because some days, even the belief and knowledge of a greater plan just isn't enough of a comfort.  

Some days, it's just too much to bear that you have to be one of those people who has to hear, "I'm so sorry, God has a plan," when you have no idea what that plan is and it doesn't make your pain any less.  I'm thinking of a sweet person I know of who on this very day should be opening cards of congratulations and will most certainly have to open cards that say these other, more sad things.  Cards that tell her there is a reason.  That there was meaning to all of this.  

And maybe that's true.  And these people who give her these cards mean well.  But they only serve as a reminder of what she has endured and planned for and now has been so tragically sucked away without explanation.  And yet, she still has to open them, and read them, and say thank you, just the same as she would have done had this been a joyous day instead of a sad one.

When they said, the show must go on, they never told you that it might go on when all you wanted to do was rewind and pause, for basically like, ever.  She's living the show and I doubt she ever anticipated this twist in the plot, and I'm just partially viewing it and it's scaring the Hell out of me.  I feel like I should have watched with my fingers partially covering my eyes and the blanket pulled up to my chin, and I'm worried I may have a nightmare when I fall asleep later.  But short-lived beauty should not evoke fear.  Loss, in itself, should not evoke fear.  Because although it happens, and it is heart breaking, there is still beauty in our lives, some of it left by those who are no longer here.

So I'm just trying to figure out for myself why something, someone, so precious and full of promise and beauty would be given to us for just a moment and then taken.  Because even though I have Faith, I sure don't understand and I sure can't deal with it, and I'm not even the person going through it.

And yet, it is so easy to be thankful for that moment of beauty, because even those little moments are good and sweet and enjoyable.  

I don't think I've figured much out this afternoon, but I have decided that whether or not I know "The Plan," I still think the world is a much better place when someone else is in charge, and the best I can do is to pray for peace for this person, and hope that though today is sad, there is still plenty of beauty in her life.   

And that her Faith will help her see it.

THORN

I'm sure we have all heard the expression that someone is being a "thorn in your side."

Most people have a least one day a year when they are not at their best, and no matter how much you love them, you feel like you just got poked right under your ribs sharply by their actions or words.

And then there are those people who lead their daily lives in such a way that you wonder if there even is a rose at all.  But there is.  You just have to look for it.  Even if it is in the form of something like a day when they leave you alone.  At least they did that for you.

We tend to think of people, situations, actions as either "good" or "bad" but I am starting to see that sometimes, there is a sneaky thorn intentionally included in the bouquet of roses someone gives me, and also that where I only see thorns, a rose can be hiding because to be seen would make it vulnerable.

I'm also learning that while I'm almost always wanting to brighten some one's day just as a rose would, sometimes I'm unintentionally prickly.  Just because you don't want to bother someone doesn't mean that it doesn't happen.

Take my son Landon, who is just shy of three.  He is not feeling so well, and he still needs assistance getting his clothes on and off when he goes potty.  Yesterday he repeatedly interrupted me with a loud, "I GOTTA GO POTTY!" and I knew, if I don't go now, I'll have a mess on my hands.  He wasn't trying to ruin my day, or to get on my nerves.  That is the thorn in the rose of potty training.  It's not he's not in diapers, but not nearly as convenient. 

I could have gotten frustrated, or angry, or put a diaper on him.  None of these things would have made me feel any better.  I simply had a daydream about a whole day where I do what I want and on my schedule, and then enjoyed watching a television show that did not try to teach me the alphabet.  Problem solved and I felt much better.

I think sometimes in life you just have to take the bad with the good, and realize that every rose has its thorn, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful.

NOTHING

"I mused for a few moments on the question of which was worse, to lead a life so boring that you are easily enchanted, or a life so full of stimulus that you are easily bored." -Bill Bryson

Wanted: information leading to the full explanation of where the dates of June 6 through June 13 have gone, and why I have no recollection of them.  Reward in the form of either a cup of coffee or if you prefer I can fully avoid you in order to prevent you from procuring this horrible head cold that seems to have infested everything in my house including the leftovers in the refrigerator.


I feel like I have these little spurts of days jammed packed with things to get done and places to go, and then spurts of nowhere to go but bed.


I'm sure during them both I complain of either my abundance of unwanted free time, or alternatively my lack thereof. 


I'm trying to discover a way in which I can have both.  I want a day where I'm doing nothing, meaning I do what I want to do and only what I want to do.  I don't just sit at home cleaning, but I lolly-gag and pretend I don't have adult things to do or people to answer to.  And so, I give you, my list of nothings I would do if I had 24 hours in which to do them.  Realistically, most or none of them will ever happen without someone needing my assistance at the potty or help finding the other sock, but hey, a girl can dream.


Walk in the woods with my kids and show them what Mother Nature keeps in her purse.
See a minimum of three current movies, all in a row, without ever leaving the theater.
Grocery shop for more than two days at a time.
Read a book recommended by one of my high school English teachers, start to finish.
Watch as many episodes of Throwdown with Bobby Flay that I can find in my OnDemand selections.
Spend the whole day at the spa.

And, finally, I would take the most epic nap known to man.

Please don't misunderstand my intentions here.  I love my family, and I love what I do every day.  What I'm searching for is a balance that will probably never happen, between structured adult social life, career (even if it is part time), bed time stories, and finding a way to get those giggles I cherish in as many days as possible.

And I don't even need a whole day of nothing, just a mere fifteen minutes would be enough to refresh me for at least a week.  Kind of funny, isn't it...I am racking my brain trying to figure out what all I did that had me so busy the past week and I got nothing.  Just a blur.  I need to figure out what nothings I want in my life: the ones I can't remember or the ones I'll never forget.

ALMOST

This egg almost made it.

The delicate little being inside almost grew into a baby bird, and almost hatched.

But then something knocked it from the nest is rested in, and that was it. 

There is no going back.  You can't uncrack a shell, and you can't unscramble an egg.

(No, I've never tried, but it sounds so absurd I don't plan to.)

I'm thinking that maybe there are a few things when almost counts.  Like, I almost got all of my laundry put away, or I almost made it to the bathroom before puking the other day.  Similarly, I am certain that some day Hanson will say, "Mommy, I'm almost as tall as Landon," and I will undoubtedly acknowledge that almost counts.

But in major things, almost doesn't count.  You either make it or you don't.  And it's the same with the bad stuff...it either happens, or you say, "I almost crashed my car" or "I almost forgot my purse."  It doesn't really count because it didn't happen, and you forget about it.

Nobody goes around bragging about the "almosts" because of this.  You don't hear someone say, "I almost beat cancer."  Or, "I almost didn't give birth to a stillborn."  Because these "almosts" of life cannot be controlled.  They are no one's fault, they are usually tragedies that are unfair and random and without explanation or logic. 

And because you can't really undo an almost.  You can't come back to life, you can't go back seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, whatever it takes to turn the almost into an actuality. 

Which is why I try to enjoy every moment I can and smile even when it seems I have no reason.  Because I know that somewhere out there, someone is dealing with an almost that is unbearable.  I've got no right to complain.  I'm going to do what I can while I can.

I don't want to wake up one day when I'm 80 saying things like,

"I almost had a water balloon fight with my kids once."

or

"I almost saw a shooting star with my husband one night."

or

"I almost wrote a book."

or

"I almost lived a full fun loving life."

In my life, in my opinion, almost is just sad and empty and not darn good enough when it comes to things I can control.  I know there is bad in this world, and tragic things happen to good people every day, and if you ask them if almost counts, I don't think they'd say yes.  I think they would tell you that they would give anything to not have to deal with almost.  Nobody goes that far, gets that close, to just throw it away intentionally.  Doing that with my time and my life would be even worse. 

I refuse to almost live, almost love, almost laugh.

ALTER

Some friends of ours are getting married today.  Actually, I don't know for sure if I have ever met the groom or not...but I'm sure he's a good guy because I have a feeling the bride knows a bad guy from a good guy.

Anyway, it got me thinking about how people say, "Meet me at the altar" when referencing marriage.  Altar and alter are definitely two different words.  However, when I think of them in terms of a wedding, they can kind of mean the same thing in my opinion.  An altar is described as a place where some sort of sacrament or ceremony takes place.  I would say that the point at which two people exchange vows to forever love, cherish, and be there for each other is also the point at which their lives forever become different. 

It does not matter what the status of their relationship was up until that point.  Whether or not they have kids, or live together, or are just meeting for that day, the act of making a vow before God, their family and friends, and each other, will change things in at least some way. 

It may be that two people are so woven into each others lives already that the marriage only makes things legal and entitles them to insurance benefits and a name change.

It may be that two people will know each other on a whole new level, including intimacy, after that ceremony.

These days, just about anything goes, but a wedding is always cause for celebration.  There is never enough love in this world, so when you're invited to encourage it you just can't help but be happy for them.

I have heard so many people say that things change for the worse after marriage.  Most of this was things other guys said to my husband before we got married, or things guys say to other guys when they are getting married.  I don't know why there is such a negative view on marriage, but I think things have only gotten better.  Sure, things will stress you out and sometimes you wonder what in the world you got yourself into.  But I had those days when I wasn't married.  And marriage is not a promise of a perfect life.  It's a promise that no matter how bad life gets you'll have someone there with you.

So if you're considering heading to the altar, please know that it will alter your life, but that doesn't mean in a bad way.  Life just gets better. 

And so, to Alyssa and Jerry, I offer this:

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon the fields.

May the light of friendship guide your paths together.
May the laughter of children grace the halls of your home.
May the joy of living for one another
trip a smile from your lips, a twinkle from your eye.

And when eternity beckons,
at the end of a life heaped high with love,
May the good Lord embrace you
with the arms that have nurtured you
the whole length of your joy-filled days.

May the gracious God hold you both
in the palm of His hands.
And, today, may the Spirit of Love
find a dwelling place in your hearts.

Amen.

CAUGHT

This morning I caught my almost three year old son about to jump from his race car bed to a nearby wooden chair in his bedroom.  I'm not quite sure how he thought this was going to work out for him, but I quickly scolded him with threats of taking toys away and standing in the corner if he ever attempted this again.  It may have worked for today, but I'm sure they will be another equally appealing not-so-great idea around the corner.  And, while he might not think so at the time, hopefully one day he will appreciate the fact that he got caught.

I sure feel that way sometimes.  I feel like I'm just going about my day, swimming along, looking for something to eat, and someone just yanks me by the mouth out of the water and I'm left flopping around on the deck of the boat until they get bored with me and throw me back in.

I used to feel frustrated and angry when things didn't go as I'd planned.  I have an idea and can't make it happen or plans fall through and you just feel irritated.  And this morning in the midst of my son's attempted acrobatics, I realized something.....

What if maybe, just maybe, I was yanked out of the water before something REALLY BAD was about to happen?

Like what if a bigger, faster, stronger, smarter fish is about to swallow me whole?

And I'm pulled to safety just before he reaches me.

What if every time I've had a genius plot and it's been foiled, it has been to my benefit, only I'll never really know because I don't see what horrors might have happened instead of my minor inconvenience?

I never really thought of life this way until I realized just how close my son came to breaking some unknown bone this morning.  Thank goodness I caught him, and thank goodness I didn't miss the lesson.

So I'm going to think of "getting caught" in a different way now.  I mean, if you ever found yourself in the air, free falling towards certain destruction of some kind, wouldn't you want to be caught by someone before you have a chance to crash into the ground?

Instead of feeling like I've been hooked, maybe I'll think of it as someone throwing a safety net under me.

And maybe then I'll stop feeling like a fish out of water when things don't go my way.

OTHER

I haven't been crossing much off my lists of things to do lately.  There is a stack of mail a mile high on my desk.  There is something frightening hiding in the back of the top corner of my refrigerator.  I have laundry that is now folded thanks to my mother who was here with my kids for a couple hours the other day, but it's still sitting on the couch because I just haven't decided to put it away yet.

But there are other things that I have started to sort of cross off on a different list.  This list is not like any other "to-do" list.  It is not a bucket list.  It is not a list of things we all have to do.  It is a list of things that I have always wanted to do and just never have for whatever reason.

Starting a blog and a photography business is one of them.

Spending the morning rummaging through little unique shops in South Haven is another.

My favorite so far is the book I've started writing, although I'm a little worried about my accuracy in some of it and so I've got to talk to people who have been through what I'm writing about.

I took a picture of a butterfly yesterday when my husband took our sons fishing.  This butterfly was alone as far as I could tell, but not in a sad way.  It was sort of beautifully traveling on this little adventure experiencing things, stopping here and there, and enjoying the day.  I think we all have our own little journeys...I mean that is what life is really.

There is not one single person that will be with you from the day you are born until the day you die.  The closest thing we have to that is our siblings, and even they have separate lives and journeys.  So while we aren't really alone, there is this massive list of things we have done or want to do in our lives that are solely ours, and I bet it would be impossible that you'd find any two people with identical lists.  Not every butterfly can fly the same path through their whole lives....right?

I've been reading a lot and I've seen something in support circles for grieving parents where they talk about where they are in this moment, and being okay with how they feel and the way they act.  I am extremely grateful that I didn't have a "moment" to share regarding grief...every single one I read, from a mother one week after the loss of her baby to a woman who lost hers two and a half years ago and has since had another healthy baby, was heart wrenching.  I can not imagine.  But just this act of sharing their moments with each other seemed to help and inspire them.

So in a similar manner, I'm hoping to do a little inspiration sharing here...I want to know if anyone out there has something they have always wanted to do and how they are going to go about crossing it off their list.  It's a project I'm going to call "In OTHER Words", and tell me what your mission is and how you will complete it.  Hopefully this will get your ball rolling and inspire me to keep my momentum.

On the left of the blog there is a space to enter your name and a link to your own blog or note (assuming I've gotten it working correctly...uh oh.)  Anyway, if you would like to participate, please share!  

Be brave...you have to leave the cocoon sooner or later if you ever want to fly.

BROOD

My mom used to say it doesn't matter how many kids you have... because one kid'll take up 100% of your time so more kids can't possibly take up more than 100% of your time.  ~Karen Brown

My husband and I spent the night in the nearby town of South Haven, Michigan to celebrate our anniversary.  When we woke up, we ate a crappy breakfast at the hotel we stayed at, stopped for some delicious coffee at the South Bend Chocolate Company, and then went for a walk on the pier.  As I peered over the edge, I spotted a mother mallard duck and her brood.  (I used to think mallard ducks were only males...but Google has taught me this is not so!  A male mallard duck is called a drake.)

This mother duck had essentially the same thing that I have: two adorable little creatures following me around.


Female mallard ducks, once they have chosen a mate, not only select their breeding site but actually take it upon themselves to be solely responsible for construction of the nest.


She lays her eggs one per day, usually not more than nine, and after the last egg is laid, incubation begins.  If the nest should become destroyed, she may re-nest up to three or four times, but each time she has to do so she would lay less eggs due to lack of energy.  (Imagine that!)  


The incubation period lasts between 22 and 28 days, during which she sheds feathers from her belly to keep the eggs warm and protect them from predators.  


When the eggs hatch, she will wait until they are dry and immediately lead them to the nearest water source.  Ducklings are one of the creatures in nature that practice imprinting, in which the first moving object they see is looked at as their parent, and they will mimic it's behavior.  Mother ducks stop frequently to count her young and if they become threatened by a predator, she will pretend to be injured by flapping and squawking, which will successfully distract the predator from her young.


Once they have reached the water, she will lead them to feeding sources where they will catch their own food.  After two short months of life her ducklings will be ready for flight.

I wondered how a mother duck with nine in her brood manages to keep them all safe, fed, clean, and happy.  This mother duck had it easy!  She only had two!  

I sometimes wonder how I'll manage once my new addition arrives in November, mostly only when people tell me how crazy I am for having three children age three and under.  And then I remember, I had no idea how I was going to manage one baby.  And then I had no idea how I was going to manage his younger brother.  And I'm sure everything will be okay, because I was designed to do this.  Life can't possibly get any more hectic, bizarre, and sticky than it already is.  

But it can still get better.

 




Duck info from www.northwestwildlife.com

NORMAL

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my wedding.  It was a beautiful, hot day, and I don't know where time has gone. 

Back then, it was normal for my day to consist of getting out of bed late, enjoying an uninterrupted shower, going to work with no one's bodily fluids on my clothing, eating a breakfast I don't have to share at my desk, lunching with friends, and then a nice quiet evening with my husband where he watched television with foul language and I read a Jane Austen book.

Funny how things change.

After five years and two kids, it is not out of the ordinary for a Cheeto to go whizzing past my ear as I'm trying to change a diaper and keep dinner from getting burnt.  Coincidentally, you wouldn't think it possible for a bowl of Cheerios to become charred, but life with two boys can affect things in ways you never expected. 

I don't give it a second thought that my floor is covered with an inch thick layer of ground up goldfish crackers, or that I found a Batman in the refrigerator.  Why spend time worrying about these things when if I only get ten minutes of "me" time a day, I should probably use it to shower, eat, and go potty.  And to write that novel I've been thinking of.

I found fresh puke on a Tupperware lid on the floor in my kitchen this morning.  Judging by what it consisted of, I'd guess it was Hanson's, but on a day like today, anything is possible.  When a crash erupted from their bedroom while I was struggling to find a clean shirt, I didn't rush down the hallway.  I waited for a cry.  There was none.  It was all too quiet which meant they were either badly hurt or that they had accomplished whatever mission it is that they had set out to complete.  They were fine...the room is another story. 

When I cuddle on the couch with them and someone falls asleep, I wind up with this wedgie of epic proportions that I simply put up with out of fear that if I move they will awaken.  And then when I fall asleep as well I am startled into consciousness by my two year old vaulting off of the arm and onto my shins.

This is my new normal. 

I know every word to the Hot Dog Song (and if you have to ask what that is you'd probably rather not know).  I can tell what time of day it is by whether or not I see Mickey, Handy Manny, or Cat In the Hat on tv.  I regularly have someone else eating off of my plate and I read books like, "Where the Wild Things Are" and "If You Give a Moose a Muffin."

I used to have a lot of spare time and I used to have adult conversations.  But I didn't have the love of two of the most precious people on this planet.  Life with just my husband and me was great, but it only got better. 

Before, it was normal to go to bed with only one kiss and one person to tell "I love you".  Now I get at least six kisses and I hear "I love you BIGGGG MUCH." 

I actually feel sad for people who think that money and free time are much more enjoyable, because until you love a child (and notice I didn't say have...you can feel this awesomeness with any child you know, it's just even more awesome when they are yours, whether biological or not) you have experienced just how full of joy you can be.  People say that Disney World is the happiest place on Earth, but obviously they don't know what I have.  Even on our worst days, we're still smiling. 

So thank you, Hubs, for five years, two and a half kids, and for my new normal.

CONSPICOUS

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.  ~e.e. cummings

Recently while getting ready for an overnight "Scrapathon", which I'll explain in a minute, I found a treasure chest of artwork, certificates, and old exams from all my years through school.

While I am extremely proud of the grades I made and the awards and accomplishments I attained, the single biggest smile while rummaging through this stack of craziness crossed my face when I found a drawing of myself from second grade, entitled:

"How I would be Conspicuous."

It is written on that off-white paper with the blue lines on it that we all learn to write on, and in the picture I'd drawn, my hair is half pink, half green, and the sun is shining directly on me.  There are hearts and flowers in the air and my eyes are blue.  

I go on to describe how my hair would be multi-colored and that I would stand out from the crown and wear red shoes.

I have no memory of actually creating this masterpiece.

I it is very obvious, however, that I don't intend to "just be like everyone else".

I find it even more entertaining that in second grade I could correctly spell "conspicuous" and yet Mrs. Tapper had to write "spray" in red ink above where I'd written "sprae".

But I find great comfort in knowing that I've always found a way to be myself and that it's always been my goal to be a little different from those around me.  I find great value in peoples' differences.

Back to that "Scrapathon", which I would describe as an epic overnight extravaganza filled with friends, food, scrapbooking, and LOTS of laughter. 

This discovery of all of the things that make me, "ME",

(A short list:
A geometry exam in which I received 35 of 30 possible points, got the extra credit!
A packet explaining my nomination for The Principal's Leadership Award.
Several essays with notes penciled in from seriously the FINEST English teachers known to the education system...thank you Mrs. Teske and Mrs. McKeeby and Mrs. Parish (LOL) for that!  I love reading your notes still.
Various notes from my Latin teacher, Magistra Miller, which when I read them somehow in my head the words sound exactly as she would have said them.
Silly things like "Love Matches" from Spanish club fundraisers and notes from CandyGrams and things that only a high school student would give much thought to.
Thank God I saved all this, if only for the entertainment purposes.)

has me considering a scrapbook of things about me, so that someday my kids can look at it and either love it or at least chuckle at my silliness, but ultimately my hope is that in at least some of what's in there they might see a little bit of themselves, and they might realize where they learned that it is perfectly acceptable and normal to want to be conspicuous. 

IDEA

"Have you any idea how many kids it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen?  Three.  It takes one to say, "What light?" and two more to say, "I didn't turn it on." - Erma Bombeck  A few different people now have asked me where I get my ideas for what I'm going to write about or what picture I might use.  The answer is not that I sit quietly at a desk all the live-long day thinking them up. I usually just go about my normal day to day routine, and all of a sudden my brain is forming the sentences and paragraphs, even spell checking. Great ideas don't have to be meticulously planned out, thought about for days and hours, approved by committees or voted into being.  (And I didn't say all my ideas are good....please refer to the melted door to our microwave for example...too long of a story to share here.) They just need one person who can visualize what they are thinking and share it with the world, or the three people that might see it on Facebook that day. Great ideas are really a lot like bad ideas....they just sort of happen.  Who among us can say we wake up in the morning and tell ourselves we plan to inadvertently ruin a perfectly good microwave?  I definitely didn't.  I just got an idea about cleaning it (Wasn't this story too long to share?  What am I doing?) and forgot that I also had a pot of boiling water on the stove...one push of the door too far open and now it's brown and warped and looks like something toxic happened.  Which, in this house, is not out of the realm of possibility. Similarly, not many people wake up one day planning on creating genius works of art or writing award winning books or losing fifty pounds and actually make it happen.  (Of course, people do plan to do these things, but an "idea" and an action are two separate entities.  Most plans do not go "according to plan"...or else there would be many many many many more novelists, rock starts, artists, and skinny people in the world.) A great idea isn't just about THINKING something.  It is about having a thought, and doing it.  You can think all day long about going potty, but unless you are Harry flippin' Potter I doubt it's magically going to happen in the way that would be most hygienic. I know you have great ideas.  Don't just think them.  Do them.   Don't wait for someone else to agree that it's a fantastic idea.  Don't stop if someone tells you it's a horrible idea.  You don't need permission to like your own thoughts or actions.  You don't need permission to like yourself.   You are a great idea.

WEED

If you feed it, it will grow.

Lately, there has been a lot of talk around here about undesired things.
Random objects we don't use anymore, bad habits, and negative people.

The thing is, they don't just go away.  You have to throw them out, stop doing them, or delete them from your Facebook/life.


If you wake up having a bad day, and you feed into that energy, it will undoubtedly turn into a day of horrors as large as the man I saw eating two Whoppers and some other unknown sandwich last week in the Burger King play place.

However, if you weed out the bad, it simply can't keep living.  Unless it replants itself in some other yard (life) and takes up roots there.  But you regain control of your own garden.


You can plant what you like.  You can reap what you sow.  You can water and care and facilitate as masterfully as Martha friggin' Stewart.  But I'm guessing a weed or two will still find a way to sneak in.  And they will stay there, unless you forcibly remove them.


And if you don't, and you keep feeding and watering and facilitating your plants, those weeds will grow too, right along with their neighbors.


It's not always easy to figure out the difference between a weed and a flower/tomato plant/former friend.


Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut and ask what purpose is served by this piece of vegetation/person.


I can personally think of one particular person who really was serving me no purpose.  She wasn't even being nice.  I don't know if she thought she was funny or if she really just thinks she is that much better than everyone else, but I deleted her a while back.  I don't say hi when I see her, I don't ask mutual friends how she is doing, I simply weeded her out.  My instinct was confirmed when just a couple weeks ago one of our mutual friends was really hurt by something this woman did....and I can only be thankful I didn't stress over removing her from my life.  People like this really aren't worth it.  


What's sad about this isn't that I lost a friend.  Because when I really think about it...she never was a friend to me.  I was a friend to her.  And now I'm not.  So the sad part is that SHE lost a friend...and not to toot my own horn, but a good friend.  If she continues with her nastiness, I believe she might find herself very alone very soon.  The problem with being a weed all the time is that no one has room for you next to their flowers.


You sort of wind up alone, in the midst of a bunch of other weeds.


My point is, don't sit around letting life/crabgrass/people get you down.  If they aren't improving the garden, weed them out and move on, and enjoy the fruits of your labor.

 

CRUNCH

So you might have noticed I've been a bit, well, absent lately. 

At some point in the last week I developed a life.  Which isn't to say that I didn't participate in life before that.  I guess what I mean is that when it rains, it pours.  Things I needed to do just started climbing out of the woodwork and I found myself lacking the normal amount of allotted "blogercize" each day.  So I'm skipping the past week and, fully inspired, starting fresh today.

I realized over the past week that any need or want I have for something actually exists only in my head. 

I need a million dollars. 

While this would make life a little easier, perhaps, I seem to have managed a rock star lifestyle and plenty of good times for the past 27 years without actually possessing a million dollars.

I need at least 28 hours a day, and Saturdays need 34.

Picasso, Mozart, Oprah, and Anne Hathaway have all accomplished a great deal on the carefully rationed 24 hours that each human being gets in a day, so I should be able to also live my dreams and have time to make dinner and have a fresh coat of polish applied to my toes each week.

I need a nap.

My two year old can resist naps at all cost and still manage to reserve enough energy to tame a wild horse.

I want some damn chocolate.

It will only increase the size of my ass, which I do not want or need.  Major dilemma. 

Are you following me?  There are literally hundreds of things in this life that we claim to need or want that we really don't if we just think about it.

We just need to make better choices with the time, money, sleep, or calorie allowance we do have.

I can't say that a time crunch didn't contribute to my non-blogging week, but it isn't really any one's fault but my own.  I spent too much time crossing things off of a list of to-dos that were really written for me by other people...and I have to stop doing that to myself.  Shouldn't my own list come first, and that way when a crunch occurs, it's not what I want that gets crunched out?

Sure, other people are important, but when we're talking about needs and wants, our own should be a priority too.

If you started reading this thinking, I really need more money, or time, or coffee, then what I am saying is that you really don't if you're living life right.

Have you heard that little comparison about how life is like a box?  And there is only so much room in the box, and it's up to you to decide what you have room for in your box? 

The same thing goes for each day. 
The same thing goes for your wallet. 
The same thing goes for your stomach. 
The same thing goes for your to-do list. 

Figure out what you must have in your box, and then forget about what there isn't room for.

That way you won't crunch anything when trying to close the lid.

SUNDAY

Sundays are my day to just be.  No matter what I have going on, I find that I am most at my normal, relaxed, uncomplicated self on Sundays.  There is something about a Sunday that just makes me feel comfortable.

It does not matter if the sun is shining.

It does not matter if where I am or who I am with.

The clothes I have on and the state of my hair and make up have no impact.

I simply feel like me, no matter what is going on or who is around.

One of my favorite quotes is, "To thine own self be true," which is from Hamlet.

In other words, be who and what you are.

I find this easiest to do on Sundays.  Maybe it's because I spend the rest of the week being what everyone else needs me to be or wants me to be.  It could be that I have so many roles to play that finding "me" and being that person gets harder and harder. 

But Sundays always seem to bring me back to my t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, ponytail, chap stick, laying on the couch reading a book and eating a bowl of cereal self.  I don't remember choosing to be this way, but as Elizabeth Lyons says, "Bloom where you are planted."

Just be what you are.  Even if you have to wait until Sunday to do it.

SATURDAY

Saturdays, I realized, are my day of options.  I always have A MILLION things I could do/work on/attempt/ignore on Saturdays.  But alas, there are only 24 hours to fit these things into and some things just don't fit. 

{Am I the only person alive who believes Saturday needs at least a ten hour extension for practicality purposes?}

Anyway, if you look at this picture, there are five different slides in view that you could ride on.  

I would equate my normal Saturday as being at this park and someone telling me I'm only allowed to pick two slides, when all five of them appear decidedly fun, unique, and worth my time and effort.

I guess the secret to a successful Saturday is enjoying the slide you have time for, with the knowledge and hope that you can come back next Saturday to try the others.

Or, if you are like my son, you can whiz through each slide proving that time can't stop you, and if you do it right you just might have time for the swings too. 

FRIDAY

Finally. 

Friday.  I can relax.

Why do Fridays always just have that relaxed feeling, like things are just a bit more carefree and fun than they were just a few short hours ago on Thursday?

I guess it doesn't really matter.  All that matters is that when Friday hits, you find a place to relax....whether that's watching a game of some sort, or having dinner with friends, or some comfy pajamas and a couch (or in my case all of the above).  We had some friends over to watch the game, and I was so relaxed I may as well have been napping in the sun on a soft piece of grass.

And, after Friday, anything can happen.  We'll see what this weekend brings. 

THURSDAY

Thursday is when everything comes together.  You're mostly done with what you had on your "to-do list" for the week and your weekend plans are heating up.  Who doesn't wake up excited on Thursday?  Thursday is also our most likely night for family together time, and this week we spent the evening watching Landon dump half a bottle of Parmesan onto a piece of pizza at Fazoli's and then went to Gander Mountain and Michael's.  I'll let you decide which store was for me and which store was for my husband. 

No matter how you look at it, you just can't be mad at Thursday.  I cannot recall a single bad day in my life ever occurring on a Thursday.  And, after all, when it's over, that means it is finally Friday.

WEDNESDAY

Wednesday is my day of progression.  After all that happens on Tuesday it would be easy to lose the wind in your sails.  But I know that it's Wednesday, I'm one day closer to the weekend, so if I just keep going I'll get there.  Kind of like this leaf in my front yard that is in the Wednesday stage of it's bloom:

You can look at Wednesday either as a meaningless day in the middle of the week with mediocre prime time television shows, or, you can look at it as a step in the right direction, a forward movement to where we all want to be, which is the weekend.  It's all downhill after Wednesday.  You've done the climbing on Monday and Tuesday, so Wednesday is the peak of any mountainous week. 

TUESDAY

On Tuesday things usually seem to get more productive.  This is when we sort of "find our groove" and through hard work and a push to get through the week, we deliver whatever our project is with full force and capability.  One of my friends had an especially precious delivery this week:

This is the sort of thing that makes up for the existence of Mondays.  Tuesday can almost completely erase the horrible aftertaste left by a Monday like a gallon of Colgate attacking a garlic clove.  Tuesday can be so productive, in fact, that it takes that Monday bad attitude and quietly yet forcefully turns it into a Wednesday smile.  It just goes to show you, with a little push great things can happen, and why not on a Tuesday?

MONDAY

So I've been a little out of touch with 1000 Words this week.  Not sure why, I mean, it's not like I didn't have the same 24 hours in each day, but this week just seemed a little crazy!  Anyway, this is my own personal study of what the names of each weekday mean to me.

Mondays are a lot like all of the bills that come in our mail.  Everyone hates 'em.

This past Monday, for me, was marked by things I couldn't finish, things gone wrong, not enough sleep, not enough money, not enough hot water for the epic shower I desperately wanted to take, and not enough common sense.  That's why I say the definition of Monday, in it's simplest form, is UGGGGGGGGGGG.  That's a U followed by 11 Gs, and for each moment of the day that you say, "UGGGGGGGGGGG," you add another G.  A really bad Monday might wind up looking like this:
"UGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!"

Monday usually comes all too soon after Sunday, which is a day of awesome bliss, and just sort of ruins the mood.  Anyway, the only redeeming quality of Monday is that it ends.

CRAP

Some people do not like the word crap.  They don't even let their kids say it. 

I overuse it.

And then one of my friends went to reply to a Facebook post and his auto correct changed "crap" to "carp".

So now, when I'm with my kids at least, I try to say, "Oh carp."

However, there are days when "OH CRAP!" is necessary.

Or, you find the leavings of a bird on the hood of your Chevy Malibu parked in your front yard and the only word that comes to mind is crap.

Crap can also be used to refer to the nonsensical ramblings of someone who doesn't usually have the facts...."That's a load of crap."

My recent "OH CRAP" moments:

Leaving my debit card in the ATM.
Spelling a client's name wrong on her pictures.
Forgetting to call someone important back.
Realizing I didn't put extra undies in Landon's backpack.
Almost needing extra undies myself when I drank too much water before work.  (Preggo bladders just don't work at 100%!)

I like to look on the bright side you could say...so I have discovered at least one good thing about crap.

It can be washed off with a good enough hose and some soap.

So the next time I hear myself saying, "Oh CRAP!" or "Ohhhh CARP!" I'll just get to cleaning up the mess, whether it was caused by a bird or dog or small human.  For the most part though, I think we each contribute to our own crap.  At least I do.  I mean, after all, if I hadn't parked near that tree, there wouldn't have been crap on my car.

THROUGH

So there's this country song, and the chorus goes like this:

If you going through Hell, keep on going.
Don't slow down, if you're scared don't show it.
You might get out 'fore the Devil even knows you're there.

I have a few friends that are "going through something."  (Hell can be defined in many ways based on who is describing it.  Personally, right now I'd say Hell would be having everything I need for a bologna sandwich but not a drop of ketchup.)  I've been thinking a lot about what it means to me to say someone is going through something and here's what I got:

If you can't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet, you haven't quite gone far enough.  Don't quit.  Keep on going.  You don't say "I got through it" at the end of an ordeal because you sat there like a bump on a log just throwing yourself a pity party.

If you keep driving, paddling, walking, crawling, etc., you might not enjoy the journey you're stuck on but eventually you'll look up and see that you have indeed made it out purely due to determination not to stay.

Hanging around and wallowing in all the bad crap in our lives only gives time and ability for more crap to pile up.  Trust me....if you don't change a shitty diaper, the shit doesn't just go away.  More will eventually arrive and then all you have is well, more shit to deal with.

The happiest people I know are not the people who don't have any shit to deal with.  They are the people who simply decide they aren't going to let it stop them from enjoying the ride, which only allows them to get through it faster.

It really doesn't matter if we're talking bills, or relationship problems, or work issues or a blown tire.  As a matter of fact, if your tire blows and you just sit around bitching about it you're not going to fix the problem nor get yourself anywhere.  You have to take action, help yourself out a little, and get back to the journey.

One of my friends did just that recently.  She had a setback, and then decided that it didn't matter, and that a blown tire couldn't stop her from getting where she wanted to go.  She's closer now than ever and she learned that no matter what happens, if you just keep going, you'll get through it.

CLOUDY

The weather around here lately has been a bit dreary.  Rain, wind, more rain, more wind.  Clouds galore.

I know people always talk about their being a "silver lining"....but who says you need that?

I say look at the beauty in the clouds.

You don't always need a ray of sunshine in your day to see something pretty.  You only have to be looking for something pretty.

As a storm builds, and rages, and then moves on, there is quite a story in the process.  It appeals to each of our senses.  Have you ever noticed how different the air smells after a significant rain?  Have you ever been startled awake by a loud boom of thunder or a very bright clap of a lightning strike?  The wind blows so much at you that you can taste the weather, whether you'd like to or not.  And you feel it, wet, blustery, and intense.

And then sometimes after a storm you see a rainbow.

And sometimes you don't.  You just see dark gray clouds that are illuminated by either the sun's triumphant return, or the determined lightning off in the distance.

If you have the ability, the sense of appreciation for nature and the realization that beauty comes in all forms, you can enjoy either the rainbow or the clouds.

Here in Michigan there is a saying: "If you don't like the weather, wait five minutes - it will change."  I've always said Michigan is the only place where you can be sun burnt and frostbitten in the same week.  Maybe that is why it is so difficult for us when the clouds take up a week long residence.  We just aren't really used to them staying so long. 

There is much about clouds to be grateful for.  Precipitation, namely, which nourishes the Earth, but then in a stunning horrid twist of fate can also crumble homes and businesses when Mother Nature unleashes herself. 

How awesome clouds become when they begin that scary swirling and then cooperate into one of the most terrifying forces known to man: the tornado.  And we've all heard how our neighbors down south have been affected by the destruction of a tornado this week.  So yes, I'm grateful for just the clouds.  I find them beautiful in their dreary, lingering, more peaceful state. 

And best of all, I only had to look out my front door to see them.

UNRULY, MISCHIEVOUS, DISOBEDIENT, &&& UNKEMPT

Long time, no see writing!  Have you ever had a moment, an hour, a day, or maybe a half a week just sort of disappear?

This is exactly what I experienced as Easter Sunday suddenly became something that happened almost a week ago and I lost all sense of time and space and calories consumed.

Those Reese's eggs will be the death of me.

I would sum up the past four days with four words: UNRULY, MISCHIEVOUS, DISOBEDIENT, and UNKEMPT.

It has also been possibly the best four days, ever.  Despite a massive headache.  Despite an overload of things to do and bills to pay.  The past four days have revealed to me a whole new world of motherhood. 

Hanson is becoming increasingly mobile and independent, which simply delights his older brother.  They have become partners in crime and the past four days have seen brotherly love in abundance in the Layer household. 

They are unruly.  They leave a path of destruction from one end of the house to the other.  Even my bathtub has evidence of their craziness.

They are mischievous.  What one doesn't think of, the other one does.  I have no idea what language they speak but they are perfectly fluent for each other and somehow despite my many parenting books and television shows they still seem to easily outsmart me.

The are disobedient.  So much so that they even make me regret trying to force them to obey.  You can't keep two boys from being what nature intended: wild, free, and airborne.  I've decided that cushions are more effective than rules.  I give up.

They are unkempt.  Their spirits are both unique and similar, made for each other and yet somehow still special and capable of standing alone.  They do not belong to me.  I am simply blessed to love them and care for them while I have the chance, but I know that one day they will spread their wings and fly, and while I have to make sure they are prepared, who will prepare me for that day?

Like Hanson's hair, these two little lives have taken on a force of their own, which teamed up together are both a chore to deal with and a joy to endure and behold.  They are wild, ferocious curls just bouncing through my day, and no matter how much hairspray I apply they simply will not lay down.  A comb is futile. 

I'm better off to simply embrace the fuzzy mop and join the unruly, mischievous, disobedient, unkempt party that my two boys call life.

CRACKED/COLORFUL/UNIQUE

So, all this Easter business really got me thinking how we went from a crucifixion to eggs.  Bear with me here, because my logic isn't necessarily accurate with the actual leap that was made, but in my own little world, it makes sense to me.  And please don't think I'm preaching....I am just applying my beliefs to my own life...in NO WAY am I judging the beliefs of others.

CRACKED. My son kept dropping his eggs while coloring them and they would obviously crack.  Did you know that on Good Friday, when Jesus died, the veil at the Temple was torn in two?  What does that mean, you ask?  Well, it symbolized the fact that the death of Jesus was significant enough to save us, and there no longer needed to be a veil between sinners and God; meaning they could find salvation directly through him.  The next time you crack an egg, remember that something much larger and more profound broke into two.

Saturday morning came, we had colored the eggs the night before.  We had a birthday party for twins at the Potawatomi Zoo, and we had a blast.  We were preparing more for Easter, and I was still thinking about this whole egg coloring process and the crucifixion.

COLORFUL. The story of a man rising from the dead is indeed quite a tale.  I mean, if you told me you knew someone who simply opened their coffin and walked out, I would most likely not believe you.  A colorful story is one so complex, so fantastic and unimaginable that it is hard to accept when compared with logic.  Science tells us that is just isn't possible for a person to die and then be resurrected.  God tells us otherwise.  When I see all these different colors for dipping the eggs, I almost don't believe we need that many or that there could be a purpose for them.  There is a purpose, a need, for Jesus in my life, no matter how colorful his story is.

Saturday evening I went to bed knowing that Sunday was a holiday representing salvation and a new life.  How wonderful that any person can choose this path for themselves.

UNIQUE. When I looked at all of the eggs we'd colored before making the deviled eggs for dinner, I realized that even though some of them had been dipped in the very same water/color/vinegar mixture, none of them were exactly like another.  God makes us all different, and baptism does not make us any less unique...it possibly makes us even more unique.  I chose this path for myself...but if I am comparing my religion to eggs, I am only one in a world of many many many more.  Some eggs don't have the same beliefs, lifestyle, as I do, and some of them haven't even been dunked in the color!  But I'm okay with that, and I can still be friends with and co-habitate with them, because it isn't for me to decide what is right and wrong.  And how funny that when you take these eggs and strip off their shells, mix them in a bowl with a mess of condiments and seasonings, they do become so similar and not really unique at all, and that we call these DEVILed eggs?  Hmmmmm.  Okay so I know this is a stretch but this really is the crazy way my brain works!

I'll keep my shell, which has been dipped.  I have my very own unique color and I like it that way. 
I didn't make it to church Easter morning.  But I sure have not forgotten the difference Easter makes in my life.

BOIL

A watched pot will not boil.

I used to wonder what this meant. 

At some point, I had decided that this phrase was the explanation to a recurring situation in my life, where I'm starving, temporarily insane from Kraft Mac n Cheese withdrawals, and the closer I look and wait for the water to boil, the more it actively resists and taunts me.

Which then made me boil.

We've all heard of somebody or so-and-so having been "boiling mad" at a person or event.  Does this happen in the same manner that water begins to boil?

Let me get very scientific and highly specific for a minute: the molecules in the water begin to expand and bounce around until at some point the have to separate and eventually jump into the air in the form of a gas.  (For you Newton wannabes out there...don't bother trying to fully explain this to me.  Not only will I not grasp the concept, I won't care.  Science is NOT my strong suit for a reason: we mix like oil and vinegar, haha.)

Anyhoo....is that what happens when a person gets boiling mad?  Their cells start to heat up and shake around until the poor soul has cells evacuating by the minute, unable to accommodate their own body because of the sheer volume of expanding cells? 

And, if this is true, can you avoid boiling by watching your pot?

Hmmmm.  Interesting concept.  If I go through life "watching my pot" or expecting that not everything will make me happy, I have a much greater chance of avoiding the dreaded vaporous state of extreme anger. 

Is this possible?

I don't know.  But I do know that I can watch my pot and see what happens. 

I walked away from my Pasta Roni for a couple seconds and returned to find a full on turbulent roar of bubbly Butter and Herb Italiano. 

I was so looking forward to it, but upon first bite was forlorn to discover that what I had really wanted in the first place was just a bowl of some damn Kraft Mac n Cheese. 

This could normally be the potential for anger and frustration on my part.

But I'm already watching my pot.

GRASP

"I can explain it for you, but I can't understand it for you."

When a baby is learning to self-feed, pediatricians (read, my pediatrician) frequently asks how they are progressing with their "pincer grasp".  This is loosely defined as the child's ability to pick something up with between their thumb and first finger and maneuver it (usually into their mouth).

Which is why it is perfect that "grasp" can also mean "to understand"....because some people just can't pick up and idea and maneuver it within their mind.

For example:
I called a local restaurant requesting to reserve their large back room because a bunch of my coworkers and I had plans for someone for their birthday lunch.  I explained to the person answering the phone that I would like to reserve the back room if available for that afternoon.

Restaurant: "We can't do that...you have to request the room a day in advance."

Me: "Oh, darn, someone already has it reserved?"

Restaurant: "No, but I can't reserve it for you because you didn't call yesterday."

At this point I became both thoroughly confused and irritated at this notion.

Me: "I don't understand.  If nobody has the room reserved why can't I request it now?"

Restaurant: "Because it has to be requested at least a day in advance."

Me: "So you won't be able to accommodate us?"

Restaurant: "Yes, probably because no one has the room reserved."

At this point I debated between screaming and hanging up, but the calmer more polite me took over.

Me: "Would you like us to spend money there or not?"

Restaurant: "Of course, our customers are valuable to us!"

Me: "But I can't reserve a room that is available because I'm calling too late....which means you could give the room to someone else, so why should we come there if we aren't sure there will be space?"

Restaurant: "Ummmm......"

Me: "We'll be seeing you at one, and if the back room is available we'd like to sit there."

Restaurant: "Thank you."

At this point the conversation ended, neither of us fully understanding what the other person was trying to get across.  I wondered if this person ever fully developed their pincer grasp.

But, about four hours later, there we were, in the back room, using our thumbs and forefingers to shovel pizza and appetizers into our mouths.  And I still don't grasp what took place in that conversation.