Body Booster or a Worm???

It’s not uncommon for me to wax philosophical after encountering the mundane.  I guess it seems to keep things interesting.   This morning it was the meandering thoughts that followed me pulling a slimy worm look-alike out of the tip of my body booster hair product.  As I yanked on the “head” of the slick little guy, nonchalantly extricating him from the tip of my Thicken Up, I considered how differently I would be reacting if it were actually a worm.  In fact, by all accounts, it shared every quality of a worm.  It had the texture of a worm, the shape of a worm.  Even the size of a small worm!  And, yet because I knew it was only hair product, I was cool as a cucumber as I flicked it off my finger.  I know, call me heroic!

As I watched the little guy fling to the sink and slip down the drain, I began to reflect on the power of our thoughts.  Often referred to as “cognitive appraisals” in the world of psychology, our thoughts about things play a fundamental role in shaping our feelings.  In fact, helping others alter the way they think about things is often a key task in therapy, demonstrating remarkable results in overcoming a range of psychiatric symptoms. 

As I observed my own personal bravery this morning, I began to reflect on my own life and I wondered... Are there other life issues where a shift in thinking could be helpful?  Are there places of anxiousness in my heart that would be soothed by a reappraisal?  

As I reflect, I imagine there are likely a range of misconceptions that I carry around.  Some probably result in little worries, and others, maybe not so little. And so I come full circle.  I recognize that I may need a little help and my reflections become a prayer.   

“Dear Lord, as I process and respond to my day, please grant me wisdom.  Help me to think about the details of life in the way that YOU think about them.”   

As I consider the kindness of God, I imagine Him whispering in my ear providing that gentle reassurance, “There, there, Julie.  Don’t let your heart be troubled.  That worm over there that’s crawling up your leg... The one that you are flipping out about.  It’s just a little body booster.”  

Philippians 4:6 “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be known to God. And the peace of God which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Frogs and Snails and Puppy-dogs' Tails

This morning, while waiting outside my daughter’s 2nd grade classroom, I observed a small boy returning from the playground in a frantic speed-walk. Making a beeline for his backpack, his hands were cupped tightly over his nose. “Oh dear!”, I thought. He must have a bloody nose. I readied myself to provide assistance. In watching, however, I quickly observed that the situation was completely under control. He swiftly knelt in front of his backpack, transferred the responsibility of his troubled nose to a single hand and utilized his now free hand to unzip his bag. He promptly retrieved a small pack of brightly colored, monogrammed tissues. With that same single hand, he nimbly opened the package, excised the decorative tissue, and transferred it to his nasal cavities never to reveal their contents. After a couple wipes, it became evident that the culprit was a mere booger of sorts. No blood involved. At first, relieved that he was not facing day two of the school year with a bloody nose, I quickly became intrigued. Such intensity! Such ordered care! He was clearly a conscientious little chap. I continued to observe as he conducted the final tidying to his nose, returned the tissues to his bag and retrieved one final predictable item: the hand sanitizer. Having smothered his hands in this germ eliminating substance, he neatly returned all items to his backpack, zipped it closed and returned to the playground. Walking, of course! NOT running.

Reflecting on what I had just observed, I recalled the countless times I have observed little kids with running noses. My mind quickly resurrected a familiar image. Starting with the elbow and ending with the tip of the index finger, he runs his arm across his nose and upper lip. His arm functions as a temporary home to the snot that is quickly transferred to its ultimate destination.  In a second, yet equally as swift motion, he cleans his arm on the side of his jeans. I begin to wonder. Is this type of boy a dying breed in our era of helicopter parenting? What does it mean to live in an age marked by parental anxiety, hyper vigilance, and an extreme aversion to risk and germs? Is the playful poem which rhythmically announces, “Frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, And that are little boys made of” losing its relevance?

Merely days from giving birth to baby boy number two, I wonder about these things. I have become quite comfortable in my role as a mother to girls, but little boys still feel a little mysterious to me. Aware of my own helicoptering tendencies, I am unsettled by the image of the tidy little boy. I definitely value manners, hygiene, and conscientiousness. I must confess, however, that there’s something so sanitized about the image that it leaves me feeling uncomfortable. I wonder about the flip side to the bug-eating, body-function obsessed, dirty fingernailed coin. I fear that in hyper-managing those aspects of my boys and my girls, that the color and vitality that childhood brings to our family could get lost. And so I reconsider...

Even this girly-girl may have to admit that, perhaps, frogs and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails may not be so bad!

I hit the gym... and then I kicked it!

There are few things as frustrating as my thwarted efforts at exercise. I KNOW the innumerable benefits that come by way of physical activity and I long for all of them (better sleep, more energy, less stress, greater muscle tone...). Despite my knowledge of just how fabulous exercise is, these days, I’m lucky if I make it to the gym once per week. This morning reminded me why.

Saturday is the one golden day where I can go first thing in the morning before I’ve spent all my energy on work, kids, and being pregnant. Now don’t get me wrong, I still have to drag my butt there, but at least it’s within the realm of possibility. This morning, I did just that. I rounded the troups with unusual efficiency and precision. We actually made it to the car on time. Well, technically, we were 15 minutes late, but just on-time enough. I could still plan to make it within the first five minutes of step class and hope to discover a little sliver of space in the room to allow me to participate. The kids were buckled in and, with the exception of my untied shoes, I was ready to roll. I looked around to the faces of the little people I call my children and was filled with gratitude. “Kids... Thank you so much for getting ready so quickly today. I am very happy to make it to my class on time!”

It was at this point that I attempted to turn over the key that we might be on our way. That is, only to discover the battery was dead. Despite numerous instructions regarding the interior car lights, the two year old had apparently managed to turn them all on YESTERDAY leaving us stranded. Feeling deflated, I called my husband who was well on his way to soccer. He was gracious enough to return home and give me a jump. While we waited, me and my kids pushed the giant SUV out of the garage (not without incident, or should I say multiple incidents), located the jumper cables, and popped the hood. Within ten minutes, we had recovered power to our car and were on the road. As good fortune would have it, despite my extreme tardiness to the class, there were problems getting the instructor’s mic to work. Lo and behold, we were ALL ready to start at the same time. Relishing in yet another fortuitous moment, I thanked God for the chance to exercise.

As it turned out, I don’t think I knew what I was thanking God for. While pregnancies one, two, and three could tolerate step, pregnancy four cannot. The bouncing of my stomach felt like it might relocate the fetus to knee height. Worse yet, it was ripping every abdominal muscle and ligament I own. I hung in there with a pained grin. Having worked so hard to get there, I wasn’t leaving now! I struggled for a good 20 minutes until I just couldn’t take it anymore. My reasonable side forced the rest of me to admit that injuries happen when people do dumb things like this. I swallowed my feelings of defeat, choking on them like nails, and put away my stuff that I might “retire” to the stationary bike. I reluctantly accepted this “lesser” form of exercise only to discover that the trauma of the class rendered my body useless for even this. I struggled through five minutes of pained pedaling until I eventually admitted it was time to go home. Collecting my kids, I headed to the car, bathed in disappointment.

While there was a period in my life when I was young and it seemed as though I could do most anything and everything, days like today remind me, that that season has passed. My life is now subject to countless forces that are completely outside my control. As a busy, working, mother, I can’t have it all. That feels disappointing. As I reflect, I wonder if perhaps the task for me now is to learn to live graciously in this new reality with flexibility and gratitude. As challenging as life can be, it is also chock full of wonder and privilege, meaning and substance, connection and purpose. As I write, I admit that I’m not quite there yet, but I’m committed to working on it. AND it may be the only work-out I get!

Perhaps Honesty Is Overrated

I finally broke down and visited a maternity store to try on a few things yesterday. Given that I am pregnant with my fourth and final, I had not been real thrilled with the idea of spending money on more maternity clothes to wear them for only a couple months. However, given the predictable self-esteem dip that has accompanied my morphing body, I finally admitted that my commitment to NO new clothes was not sustainable. New clothes have a way of giving me that little bounce to my step that has begun to feel conspicuously absent. I hit up the local mall with my two daughters in tow. Somewhere in the process of trying things on (in the presence of my two-member peanut gallery) my older daughter, full of snickers, remarked, “Whoa, Mom! I definitely don’t like those pants. You look like an umpa lumpa!” Entertaining her sister with this comment, they both proceeded to giggle uncontrollably. I swallowed the lump in my throat, took a deep breath, and rest assured that it was clearly not an ill-intended statement. Meanwhile, my daughter continued to proceed with her fashion advise providing commentary about how she really liked the purple shirt and the cream-colored skirt, but “definitely not those pants!! The waist is too high and they fit waaay too funny.” A few minutes later, as I am wrapping up our thrilling time in the dressing room, my other daughter exclaims, “Mom, why do you keep putting those ugly pants back on?” At which point, I had to confess, “Honey, these are the pants that I came in.”

Slug Bug’s for Sissies (NOT Mommies!)

I’m submitting my vote to release all moms from any sense of obligation to the game Slug Bug. Did you know that John Gottman, PhD stated in one of his books that young children place some sort of demand on their parents every three minutes? Did you know that most women are the default parent in their home assuming primary responsibility for a broad range of domestic responsibilities ranging from meals, to cleaning, to maintaining countless numbers of mental lists? Are you aware that in most homes, it is the mom who keeps a comprehensive grocery inventory in her head? At a moment’s notice, believe it or not, most moms could tell you how much milk is in the fridge and at what point the milk will likely run out, give a day or two. The same mom could also tell you the names of each child’s teacher, approximately when said children need to return to the doctor for their annual well-child visit, which child’s pants are getting too short, who needs new underwear, and specifically which condiments go with which hot dog at the dinner table. Given that, I beg you to tell me, how on earth, as I’m driving down the street rehearsing all of life’s responsibilities that am I supposed to take note of a Slug Bug, register it in my brain as a Slug Bug, and remember to punch my passenger? This whole business of playing a game that I am so ill-equipped to have ANY success with is getting old… It is for this reason that I am registering my vote. Sisters, brother, fathers, cousins, and friends… Play away, but leave mommy out of it. My arm is getting sore.

Ten Things I Loved About Today

“Then we sit on this curb right outside, and I’ll count all the blue cars and he counts all the red ones, and whoever gets the most wins. I like that curb. That might sound boring but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most.”

~ Russell reflecting on memories with his father (8-year-old boy in the movie Up)

This quote is just one of the many reasons why I love the movie, Up. One of the challenges for us as a busy family is not losing sight of the simple things. Racing through life, it’s the day-to-day moments that can get so easily sabotaged by a false sense of urgency and pure mindlessness. I often wonder, thanks to drive-thru’s and play lands, who actually sits on the curb with their ice cream anymore. Russell reminds me what I know has to be true: Life takes place in these daily moments. Not only do these moments define the quality of my life, but they’re probably what my kids will remember most about growing up in our home.

Today was a day that I found myself cherishing the simple things and so I dedicate the following list to Russell:

Ten things I loved about today....

1. Being the last member of my house to get out of bed

2. The time alone with Jocelyn... The chance for her to finish her sentences without interruption... Holding her little hand in the movie theater...

3. Proudly watching Jonas as he counted the lady bugs in his book

4. Cleaning out the kitchen pantry cupboard – I think I felt at least a pound lighter with each thing that I tossed in the trash

5. Reading a sweet note written by Jillian to Jocelyn. There’s nothing more fabulous than those special moments where my kids are kind to each other.

6. Playing a makeshift game of Pictionary with my kids in the backyard, followed up with a mean game of hangman. I relished the opportunity to watch my kids erupt with deep delight when they guessed a correct letter.

7. Stealing a kiss from my husband in the kitchen while I made dinner

8. Laughing at how sick dinner tasted tonight! So much for trying to use up some of the old food! I guess it’s not always a good thing when practicality wins out.

9. Tucking the kids in bed, sighing a sigh of relief, and enjoying a nice, hot shower

10. A quiet house, soothing music, and letting my mind wander while I painted my nails

James 1:17 “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights”

Vista Point

If you’ve ever taken a scenic drive, I’m sure you’ve noticed the signs that direct you to those pullout spots where travelers can stop to take in the view and maybe even snap a couple pictures. It is here that the driver is relieved from the challenge of trying to experience the majestic scenery amidst managing the wheel of the car, the winding roads, and the safety of the passengers. No more multitasking and fleeting views. Instead everyone can inhale deeply, take their time, and soak in all the beauty that nature has to offer. It is here that the details can emerge. The visual intricacies, the smells, the feel of the breeze on your skin…

I’m beginning to think that spending quality time with my kids serves as a sort of vista point in my life. So often, in the process of racing through my day (working, cooking dinner, picking up the house, throwing in a load of laundry, etc), the little faces of my kiddos begin to mimic the blurred images that race past my side window when I’m driving in my car. I don’t fully listen to the words they say. I neglect to notice the expressions on their face. I lose touch with the texture of who they are.

Yesterday was my day to spend a little quality time with my middle daughter. We enjoyed a tasty breakfast together at one of our favorite spots and then headed out for a wonderful hike in the foothills near our home. In the ½ day we spent together, I was able to notice so many things. Released from the rush of a busy schedule, I studied her little body as she climbed in the car. I noticed the contour and size of her little legs. They seemed so small and cute compared to mine. I noticed the awkwardness of her gait as one who has not quite yet mastered coordination and control of her 6-year-old body. In spite of her lean build, my eyes were drawn to the soft roundness of her arms. It really hasn’t been that long since she was a baby.

As I reflected on my day, I was filled with gratitude for the opportunity to move beyond simply meeting her various needs for food, clean clothes, and assistance with her homework, to simply look at her as the beautiful creation that God has made her to be. I feasted on the joy of a deeper kind of listening to the feelings behind her words. I made mental notes of how her little hand felt in mine as we traversed the steepness of the trail. I tried to memorize her giggle as I cooled her pony-tailed head with my drinking water.

I sit here this morning with lingering feelings of a delightful inner warmth. I took in a gorgeous view and I am challenged. I want to find ways to enjoy my kids even more. To recognize when I’m becoming a mindless driver who races through the winding mountain road never stopping to take a look at the breathtaking beauty around me. I hope to learn to be more mindful of those signs pointing in the direction of a vista point.