family, humor, motherhood

Better Already

Throughout my life I have had many best friends.

Some real, most imagined.

Sarah Jessica Parker, Princess Kate, and Abby Wambach are a few examples.  These are the women that inspire me and help me to dream bigger dreams for myself.

My current ‘best friend’ is Melinda Gates.  While it is mildly possible the Gates Foundation has slightly more monetary resources than the giving fund Mad Dog and I started, Melinda’s philanthropic sensibilities are the paragon I hope to follow.  She grew up in Texas and, when the world was accessible, I would drive by the high school she attended on my way to workout. This makes our ‘friendship’ seem all the more real.  I live near where she grew up.  I live near where she learned how to code.  I live near where she became the person she is today.

See?  Anything is possible.

Mad Dog recently sent me an article about books Melinda recommended.  Since she is one of my very best friends, I immediately bought them.  One in particular, The Book of Awakening by Mark Nepo, has daily entries to help open your mind and heart to a deeper understanding of yourself and the world around you.  It is awesome, but honestly, my best friend wouldn’t recommend anything subpar I can promise you that.

Since I am deep in the self-quarantining phase of life, I have several books that I am reading simultaneously (I kind of roll like that anyway in regular life, too), and found myself with this glorious recommended book in serious need of a bookmark (as all others were in use).  Ever the problem solver, I marched back to the game room and announced the boys needed to make me one.  Yes, there was some serious pause and a healthy dash of attitude thrown my way, but I persevered.

“I gave you life.  Because of me you have life.  Make. Me. A. Bookmark.  Now.”

It took them a few minutes, but they did it.  I also made it clear, please, take it seriously.  Write something thoughtful and inspiring on it as I will be reading this book every day.

First up, I read Full Speed’s side:

IMG_8503He did not let me down.

Well done.

Next up, T.Puzzle:

It’s super emotional so if you are the sensitive-type, gather up your courage before you look at it:

 

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Look at that, you just read this whole post.

The world thanks you.

I thank you.

Don’t you feel better already?

 

 

marriage, motherhood

Safety First

For some reason, Mad Dog is always in a hurry.  I’m not sure why exactly.  Is someone chasing him?  Is he carrying top secret information and must never be caught?

Date night strolls often wind up with him ten paces ahead and me jogging to keep up.  Yeah, it’s as romantic as it sounds.

Even when we are home, his pace is quick.  It is best to steer clear as his rushes through his to-do list.  In all of this heightened speed, he relies on repetition and memory to navigate the space around him.  If something is an inch or two ‘off’, he inevitably runs into it.  And not in a delicate way, but in a full-on injury-inducing way.

Does this slow him down?

Never!

Does it make him scan his surroundings before attacking his day?

Of course not!

He does enjoy deflecting the cause of his injuries.  He jokingly (and sometimes not-so-jokingly) blames me.  He wants to know why I keep moving things(!).  He ‘moves with precision’ (exact quote thank you very much) and if I move something even a tiny bit, he is bound to run into it.

Okay, okay, I’ll give you the drying rack over the laundry room door (I mean, it’s kind of awesome that he even goes in there let alone actually does laundry, so kudos for that).  It is possible someone in our house inadvertently shifted it and therefore when Mad Dog nearly punctured a lung on it, I could understand I might be to blame.  And, then there was my yoga mat.  I had moved it to the side in our bedroom, but knowing Mad Dog in the way I do, I should have moved it about three more miles out of the way to ensure his safety.

But furniture?

Really?

He claims I move furniture.  Not ottoman type things, but anchor pieces like couches, beds, and cabinets.  Yes, cabinets!  I absolutely take down cabinets and move them one inch over just to mess with him.  Honestly, I should have my own show on HGTV.

And I’m certain my three times a week of Jazzercise, I mean I use 8 lbs. weights after all, in addition to my at-home yoga practice, certainly has afforded me the necessary upper body strength to move giant pieces of furniture all by myself.  Maybe bodybuilding has been my long lost calling?

So many dreams to consider.

These will have to wait until I finish moving Mad Dog’s office desk.

Trust me, I always remember to lift with my knees and not my back.

Safety first.

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humor, motherhood

Zen Training

I plopped down next to Full Speed to help him sort and fold some laundry.  Every once in awhile I like to help the boys with an occasional assigned chore.  My hope is that it teaches them to help others without being asked.

“What is your plan for me to come get you for the dentist tomorrow?” I said.

“What time is it?” said Full Speed.

This is where time seemed to slow down.  I felt myself leaving my body, hovering over the scene as anger arose from within me.

“I know you are not asking me what time your appointment is.  The one that I told you about and ask that you develop a plan for when I should come get you.  The one that I sent you a text message with the details and reminded you to figure out when I should come get you.  I am trying really hard to not sound annoyed right now, but I realize I am not doing a very good job.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute! You know you have to tell me things at least four times before I actually remember them,” said Full Speed (for the record I did, probably more).

It seems I could tell each and every one of the men I live with about appointments a thousand times and it would not be enough.

Eventually, with some mindful breathing, I accepted the situation as it was.  I also calmed my mood by realizing that I won’t always have to be in charge of my boys’ appointments.  At some point, they will need to figure that stuff out on their own.  My guess is, especially in the realm their future dental care, scurvy could be a real possibility for them…

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Later that night, I was writing out an early dismissal note for Full Speed.

“What period will you be leaving?” I said.

“I’ll leave after seventh period,” Full Speed said.

As T.Puzzle sauntered in the room, he caught a snippet of the conversation.

“Why is Full Speed leaving early?” said T.Puzzle.

“For your dentist appointment,” I said.

“Wait. When is that again?” said T.Puzzle.

I would write more but for the safety of my children, I have relocated to a monastery to begin my zen training in earnest.

I have no other option.

 

 

 

 

 

 

happiness, humor, motherhood

How Do You Know? You Don’t.

We were at T.Puzzle’s thirteen year wellness check.  He was sailing through, crushing milestones and checking all the boxes landing him in healthy ranges for almost everything (screen time average was the only number in question).

The nurse turned to me and said, “Any concerns?”

“No. Unless you have a magic formula for getting a thirteen year old boy to articulate his thoughts,” I said.

The nurse could empathize.  She experienced a similar phenomenon with her now seventeen year old son.  Every question she asked him was met with an, “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

How is it possible that once boys reach the age of thirteen they don’t know anything?  Where does all their knowledge go?  How do they make it through the day not knowing anything?

As we waited in the exam room for the doctor to appear, I decided to investigate this communication/knowledge block.

“So, T.Puzzle.  Do you talk to your friends at school?” I said.

“Yes.”

“What do you talk about?” I said.

“Stuff.”

Wow. I could sense I was really getting somewhere.  I continued my sure-be-successful line of questioning:

“What else do you talk about?”

“Sometimes, we talk about things.”

Oh, the stuff and sometimes the things.  It all makes sense to me now.

“Why are you able to talk to them but not me?”

“Because they don’t ask me questions,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  Oh no!  It’s happening.

I don’t know.

I really, truly don’t.

 

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dogs, motherhood

Justice Has Been Served

Like me, you may have mixed emotions about being called up for jury duty.  It may not be the happiest way to spend your day, but you can’t deny it is a privilege to be part of the justice system.   Yet, as I was packed in a room with a thousand other people who seemed to not really want to be there, I started to pay extra close attention to the information video describing exemptions from service.

Are you under 18 years of age?

Shoot.  Definitely not me.  In fact, my boys are laughing so hard after reading that, it’s best to move on.

Are you not a citizen of the United States?

Born and raised.  Next, please.

Do you live outside of county lines?

Darn it.  Smack dab in the middle.

Do you have kids 12 and under that require your supervision?

Please don’t bring attention to the fact that I AM A MOM OF TEENAGERS.  Onward.

Do you have a family member whose care is dependent on you and this care would suffer if you had to serve as a jury member?

Wait. What?

Does six rounds of daily eye meds and a desperate need to be near me at all hours of the day count?

Maybe?

They technically never stated the family member had to be human…

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If the tie fits…

In case you were wondering, I was dismissed from duty by 11am.  Next time, I’ll be ready though, just in case.