My Way Or The Highway

It would be a lot easier becoming the woman I want to be if the people around me weren't so annoying. If everyone else became the people I wanted them to be then it'd be a breeze for me to become a better me. I'd have no reason to learn patience if everyone did as I said when I said it. I'd have no reason to whine if no one ever asked anything of me. I'd have no reason for curbing my tongue if people knew how to drive. I'd have no reason to raise my voice if people just listen. I could be a great woman - a great mother, wife, friend, volunteer if everyone just did things my way. My daughter once said to me, "It's not even your way or the highway, Mom, because the highway isn't even an option." She said, "It's your way or no way!" She thought I'd be flustered. I said, "It's about time you figured that out!" Now, if I could get everyone else to figure it out I'd be good to go. But, alas, I guess it's easier to improve myself than it is to change the world. The things a woman does to improve mankind . . . I wonder if there is a lesson on pride . . .

: )

My Clever List

So, I wrote a new list - my private wish list to becoming a better me. I wrote it quickly - not in haste this time, but quickly nonetheless. And I proceeded on with my 90 day journey to becoming the woman I want to be. Well, day 5 says I'm supposed to share my list with a trusted friend. My trusted friend is supposed to mark their calendar 85 days from now so they can check on my progress. Augh - I don't want to share my list, I don't want to be accountable, I don't want to have to work at being a better me, I just want to be a better me - now. I wonder if there is a lesson on whining or patience and I wonder if I'll skip them? I love my list and it's between me and God (and my daughter, in spite of the protesting I shared it with her). I won't share it here but I will say it is a good list and it's clever and funny and I laugh every time I read it. And if you really want to know what it says you'll just have to come over here and use my bathroom and take a peak inside the cabinet over the toilet. When I hear chuckles coming from the bathroom I'll know you peaked. But don't worry because I would peak at your list too if I had the chance. "Mind your own business" is not on my list.

Being Me

So, I'm doing a 90-day journey to renewing spirit, soul and body. I am becoming the woman I want to be. There is scripture, prayers, writing, exercises, diet and affirmations. It's really a very cool book with all you need in one neat little package. Here's my problem, I don't want to take 90 days to become the woman I want to be - I just want to be that woman now. In my haste, I blew through the first exercise where we are to write down 25 things we want to have, do and be. I wrote that I want to have good relationships with my family; I want to do fun, spirit filled things with family and friends; I want to be a source of joy to those I love. I had 22 lines left after that so I filled in the names of the people I love. The next day I had to write down the top 5 things on my list, so I wrote out 5 names (changed here to protect the innocent) Billy, Bobby, Betty, Barb and Beth - the people I love most. The next day I had to write the list on an index card. I wrote Billy, Bobby, Betty, Barb and Beth on a bright orange index card. The next day I had to tape the card somewhere I would see it every day. So I taped it inside the bathroom mirror - Billy, Bobby, Betty, Barb and Beth. Today, I discovered that the things written on the index card are my future me! I love Billy, Bobby, Betty, Barb and Beth but I don't want to be them! I just want to be me . . . only better. Back to page one - augh - it ain't easy being me.

PS to Go Figure

I apparently overlooked an important skill of mine and now realize that I am very qualified for another awesome job. The United Nations needs a Peacemaker. Now, that I know I can do. If I can gather the five members of my family around one table for dinner without disastrous effects, then I am an awe-inspiring Peacemaker. United Nations, look out! I figure if I can tell daughter #1 she has a curfew and daughter #2 that a bomb seriously blew up in her room and then tell the boy that spending time with that girl is like sipping poison and then smile at my husband asking him to pray over the meal - I must have some serious talent. It takes a certain kind of savvy to keep peace in a household with very opinionated members. Plus I totally understand the issues of territory and privacy . . . to a degree :) I can even make a doable schedule for sharing computer time and phone time with 3 teenagers (don't try this alone). I know I can make nations of the world play nicely together after just one shared meal of macaroni and meatballs. I'd say, "There is no need for nuclear weapons at the table and the next one with an outburst can just take their plate and eat their macaroni and meatballs on the kitchen floor with the dog." And it wouldn't be the first time I've asked guests to leave their electronics and weapons at the front door. And if they all behave I'll even serve Grandma's famous 1-2-3 cake for dessert. What do you think?

Go Figure

After being out of the work force for 19 years because I raised my children and helped my husband run his home office, I've been thinking about rejoining the multitudes in the business world. The only problem is that my resume reads like a short story. I carefully and craftily worded all the things I have done as a mother and as a volunteer. I included the ways I have multi tasked all these years of raising children and homeschooling and leading clubs. I wrote about the many skills I have used in helping my husband with his office. I spoke about successfully being at all my children's events, recitals and award ceremonies. I spoke about the accomplishments of our household and how I now have 3 thriving teenagers. Then, I thoroughly searched the job market and compared my skills with the jobs available in today's society. It seems that I am extremely qualified to be a zoo keeper or a circus director. Go figure.

Praise The Lord

Our pastor yesterday gave a sermon on Praising The Lord. He delivered a great sermon. I hate those people who "rate" the sermons. Good or bad the sermon is suppose to be led by the Holy Spirit and who are we to rate what He says? And mostly, the sermons we hate the most are the ones we usually need to hear the most. With that being said, every Sunday as we pull away from the church (sometimes even before) I ask my family, "So, what'd you think of the sermon today?" Not because I want them to "rate" it, but just because I want to know what affects the heart of my family. If anyone is squirming, I know the Holy Spirit was speaking to them. Anyway, Sunday's sermon was how important Praise is to God. According to our pastor, failing to praise God can get you eaten by worms (Acts 12:23). Well, I don't want to be eaten by worms and I always try to do what the pastor says. So, today I Praised God for: my husband, my children, my bed (it was early), the birds, the ceiling fan (hot flashes again), my breakfast, my computer, Parsley and :)De (who left me comments today), the dog, the flowers, the sun, the air, the clouds, my legs (for walking folks), garden tools, the shower, the grill, tea leaves, water and my vision. With all this Praising going on I barely had time to complain. Go figure . . .

Mom's Little Outburst

Isn't it curious how menopause coincides with raising teenagers?!?! I mean, menopause to a teenager is just a convenient excuse to explain "mom's outbursts." Teenagers love to think, "mom's over-reacting and just having a hot flash." Well, here's a shout out to all you teenagers out there - Mama ain't just having a hot flash, she is hopping mad and it has nothing to do with raging hormones or her internal temperature. It's all about parenting little monsters disguised as teenagers. The parent of a teenager survives on super charged senses. It's really a cruel twist of nature - the only way to survive raising a teenager is to be so keen in the skills that others call paranoia. "What's that smell? Did I see you in that car? Who wants to know? What's that noise? Where are you going and who are you going with and who else is going to be there?" Do teenagers seriously think we ask these questions because we're "paranoid" or "controlling"? (Yes, they do.) It's a tough world out there cupcake, and only a concerned (my word of choice) parent who asks all the right questions will get you through it okay. So, the next time mom tells you to go to the doctor, check your brakes, stay away from that girl, stop at the intersection, or eat your vegetables, please, by all means, LISTEN.

Do You Do Windows?

Today I washed my beautiful french lace curtains and the windows in the kitchen, dining room, living room, front hall and back door. I also washed the windows in the family room. My mother, a.k.a. Grandma K, will be very proud. After I lived in this house for about a year my mother said, "Have you washed your windows yet?" (Something only a mother would ask, right?) I said, "No, God does my windows." She said, "What the heck are you talking about?" (Like only a mother can say, right?) I answered sarcastically, "It's a little something He calls rain." (Like only a daughter can say, right?) She said, "Don't you get smart with me." I said, "Okay." Well, that was 21 + years ago. I wash my windows every spring and every fall now. All the women in the neighborhood think I'm a little nuts, except one, because she also has an Italian mother who can make gravy, wash the windows, change the sheets and scrub the tub with one hand tied behind her back and a patch over her eye. When I was done, I looked back at my work, pleased and satisfied . . . until my son said, "What a waste of time huh? It doesn't look any different." I said, "Don't you get smart with me." He said, "I won't. I'll stay dumb." I said, "I'm calling Grandma K." He said, "Ooh, I'm scared. Wait, you're not really going to call her, are you?" Heehee. . .