My teen was having a hard time recently and stormed around for a day and a half. Teens tend to be overly dramatic, so I thought letting him work through it was part of the process. But then it occurred to me that part of the drama was because he didn’t know how to react when faced with a problem. Was this the end of the world? Could he make it go away?
With age, comes perspective. I have lived through enough situations that I know I can fix my problems. I know the difference between a minor setback and a problem that is going to require more effort on my part. I can project what will probably happen if I ignore a problem and whether it will go away on its own or grow exponentially. A teen hasn’t grown that perspective.
I have a friend whose catchphrase is, “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” I didn’t understand her need to say that until just now. As my teen seemed to be circling in a loop of angst, I realized he didn’t know it was going to be okay. It was fixable. I sat him down and told him it would be okay. We talked through the nuances of the problem until he realized it wasn’t so big after all. The pep talk on how capable he was helped to make it seem surmountable. I reminded him that he wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to worry by himself. If he needed help, he could rely on his parents.
To date, the problem has yet to be resolved. But we aren’t worried. It’s going to be okay.
I hate New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. It just seems like an unsafe driving night/drunk fest followed by a day of refection/atonement/resolution-making. I never make resolutions. It seems like many people make them just to break them. When I make a promise, I keep it. For that reason alone, I don’t make many.
We do have a tradition in our small family. Each year, we collect pennies with that year’s date on them to add to our Christmas stocking. There is always a panic in December to locate shiny pennies with the current year’s date on them, but we have never missed a year. My husband and I tease that we are going for the whole roll, or fifty pennies. To date, we have 35 pennies. It is a long time to be married. We are blessed. We started a penny stocking when our son was born and now he joins in the tradition as well.
As we add the pennies, we always spend a short moment talking about something special about that person or something significant that happened during the year. When we put away the stockings, it ensures that they are never empty. It’s a simple, inexpensive tradition. Maybe it’s a way to let go of the old year and bring in the new. I guess we just have to do things our own way.
There are but a few kinds of people in the world; those that follow the rules, those who enforce them and those who laugh and claim the rules were meant for everyone else. I tend to be a rule follower for the most part, but when it comes to generating ideas, I liked to see how close I could come to bending the intent of the rule while remaining in compliance. I’m sure I was a spitfire as a child. No one notices the quiet, dutiful kid in the corner. I was the one who was too creative to sit still.
I have learned the saying, “It is better to beg for forgiveness than to ask permission,” really is a good motto most of the time. As a parent, it is hard to remember that when I am on the other side of the equation, but I just have to remember it’s payback time. The saying I made up as a parent when talking about my rambunctious boy was, “It is easier to tame enthusiasm than it is to move a rock.” Thank goodness for those with curiosity and a lust for adventure. They will make something of themselves.
Those kinds of people are not the nose-to-the-grindstone, collect-the-gold-watch-at-retirement types. Those jobs don't even exist anymore anyway. My son looks at the system, and sees a status quo that is rigged against him. He has an entrepreneur spirit that scares security-conscious me. I look forward to seeing where his future takes him. Rules or no rules.
I must admit, I am excited for the holidays. The house is decorated and I made my first batch of cookies December 4, on what turned out to be National Cookie Day. Who knew? My husband has a secret pleasure of watching all the Christmas romance stories on the Hallmark Channels. We call them Hokie-Dokiers and love every minute of these uplifting, happily ever after stories.
This is the first day it has been “chilly” i.e., in the 60’s and we don’t have the heat on yet in our Phoenix home. My hands are cold. I have no fat on my wrists or the top of my hands and they are poorly insulated. I went out and bought fingerless mittens. They have sequins sewn on them, and it makes me smile every time I look down at the keyboard and see them twinkling at me.
It’s funny how a small thing like that can keep me smiling. One year, I went on a cruise to Hawaii with my brother, his wife and my mother. Before we went, I purchased some glittery hibiscus flower stickers from a party store. You can also find them online. Pricey ones look like gold or silver paint. We settled for an inexpensive multipack for around five dollars. The women in our group rubbed them on our faces and spent the day adorned with festive highlights. We had many people smiling at us and asking where they could purchase some.
As we were getting back on the ship, one elderly woman noticed our faces and remarked to her friends, “Who would have time for that?!” I’m sure she thought we sat and got our faces painted, but so what if we did? What if we chose to waste our limited time on the island in such frivolity? I didn’t bother to comment. I wanted to use my time more wisely.
Holidays are always a time to spend with family. We will slow down and make time for each other as we play some board games. I have already convinced them to paint a picture with me. All of us are beginners when it comes to painting but it doesn’t matter. It’s the time together. Like the moments when we sit around by the light of the Christmas tree and just talk. About nothing. That’s the gift I’m looking forward to– time for frivolous things. I might even buy some stickers.
I'm melancholy today. I realize that feeling depressed is much different than clinical depression, which is a serious matter. I’m talking about the temporary sadness one feels when they want to feel sorry for themselves or the world but don’t have a reason.
On a good day, I would try to get over myself– get busy, help others, call up a friend, or watch a comedy. A bit of melancholy works for a writer, however. It taps into the ache in my chest which creates that need to write. It gives me time to be introspective if I go with those emotions. It helps me to daydream.
We own our happy feelings but have a tendency to shake off any sad ones. What if the melancholy moods were the ones where we were closest to our true selves? What if it was the time we were able to take stock of our lives and where we were going? I’m going to honor those feelings and recognize that they are a signal to slow down and be with myself for a while. I will come out the other side better in tune with myself and my aspirations. Maybe being melancholy is a good thing.
In the old days, we would tell stories we made up by the campfire. Then we graduated to reading a book by flashlight. My son is a senior in high school, but when we're on a trip, we still keep up the tradition of sharing a book.
Recently, we vacationed by staying in a cabin we rented. A fireplace replaced the campfire, but we laughed that we still had to use old fashioned wood instead of having an instant gas fireplace. The microwave and stove made cooking easy and the dishwasher made clean-up a breeze. A soft bed replaced the hip-pointers guaranteed by sleeping in a tent.
But what also changed was how we read the book. I called it up, via Kindle, off my phone. The light of the phone meant there was no need for a flashlight. No one seemed to mind its soft glow and I was happy to adjust the font size to meet my changing eyesight. But the real change came afterward.
After the chapters were read, we sat in silence looking at the fire. I wished I remembered all the words to some of the old folk songs we used to sing. After thinking about it for a moment, I remembered I still had a phone with internet access. Soon we were Googling Peter, Paul and Mary songs, as well as songs by The Eagles and more. My son didn’t recognize these, but he did request Boots of Spanish Leather by Mandolin Orange. There are some things we lose when technology invades our life. I’m happy to say this wasn’t one of them.
I have to admit, I am not a sports fan. I don’t follow any sports except when the Olympics roll around. But I managed to find the story of Sloane Stevens. She is a tennis player who was ranked 934 in the world two weeks ago. Did she let that stop her? She went on to win, win mind you, the US Open.
I love this story for two reasons. First, she didn’t let her past affect her future. How many of us think that way? We almost apologize for our place at the table. We are defeated before we begin because we don’t truly believe in our own dreams. We need to own it. We need to treat our dreams as if they are the very air we breathe- we may not be able to see them, but they are real and ours for the taking.
The second reason why I love this story is what she did when she won.
I know nothing about Ms. Stephens, I do know a role model when I see one. I look forward to finding out more.
Hurricane in Texas, Hurricanes in Florida, DACA being rescinded- there are reasons to feel unsafe, depressed or in turmoil. These are the same reasons why many people check out. It all becomes too much. How can one care about the bigger problems when there is so much going on in your own life?
No one can do it all. But we can find one person, or one group we empathize with and we can find a way to help with our time, money, expertise or our advocacy. If we help, even in a small way, we begin to think differently about ourselves and the world around us. One thing. All I have to do is one thing. Just one.
To find community-based organizations in your area in need of assistance, start with www.211.org or call 211 and they will connect you to an agency based upon your willingness to help. If you need help, it is also the resource to use as well.
I’m going on a four-day white water raft trip with one of my brothers. We are going with Hells Canyon Raft Company navigating the Snake River through Hell’s Canyon. Ever since I heard of rafting in North America's deepest canyon twenty years ago, it was something I thought I wanted to do- yet another bucket list item. When I visited my brother this spring, he mentioned he wanted to travel more. I jumped at the chance to suggest the trip. After checking with our spouses, we booked the trip. We are staying some extra days to explore Idaho.
It’s been decades since I had my brother to myself for an afternoon. I don’t doubt that we will get along- mature people find a way to make it work. I hope we come out on the other side of the week truly liking each other and the people we have become.
I wonder what I would really want my brother to know about me that he doesn’t already know. As I ask that of myself, I realize that answer really lies in what unresolved issues might I have with my brother. Sitting in the comfort of my writing chair, I can’t think of any. Maybe there are still childhood issues that will come up in the moment. I hope I don’t find myself saying, I thought I was over this… I also hope I remember to let my brother know how much I like the person he has become and the choices he has made.
That's probably the hardest part. We struggle to get what we need, but we forget we have the responsibility and should have the grace to give back. I hope I can do that. Maybe it will make up for the times I used to scratch him with my fingernails.
I learned back in grade school that a smile helps to smooth things over– keeps you out of trouble. Lately, there has been a great deal of pushback from women who resent being told they should smile from men. Bustle writer JR Thorpe, wrote an excellent article about the power struggle behind a woman’s smile.
Winner of 19 Olympic and World Championship medals, Simone Biles didn’t smile and she made headlines worldwide. When asked why she didn’t smile for the Dancing with the Stars judges' compliments she replied, “Smiling doesn’t win you gold medals.”
I do fake smile a lot. It comes from a desire to serve others and to be approachable. I also smile when I am doing a slow burn. Woe to the person who can’t tell the difference. It is in the eyes. But am I forced to smile? Am I so used to smiling that I don’t recognize the power I am giving away with this conditioned response?
I wonder what would happen if we took back our face and didn’t smile for a day? Will I have to worry about having a Resting B*tch Face, RBF? Maybe, this post is really about the fact that it is a woman's duty to be pretty...