2007 October | chatting at the sky

on halloween

October 31, 2007

Most of my Halloweens have been spent in dark back rooms with shades pulled, vaguely lit by the blue glow of the TV. We didn’t trick-or-treat and we didn’t hand out candy. We didn’t celebrate Halloween. We hid, basically.

There was one year, however, when we were allowed to dress up. I don’t know why. Kids don’t question these things. I was a barbie. I had a mask with holes for eyes, nose and a tiny tease of a slit at the mouth, just big enough to stick your tongue through but not big enough to get it back out again. I remember having to choose between seeing or breathing because the one-size-fits-no-one mask was too big. I think it also came with a plastic apron “dress”. My sister tells me we fought over my mask that day, I think because the painted plastic hair was better somehow. I’m not sure why I won that fight. I probably cried. But I’m sure she will comment to this.

Last night I went to Target to get candy to give to the trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood. Warning: there are indeed brightly colored Christmas ornaments displayed next to the ceramic pumpkins in the seasonal section. Just so you know. I happened to remember just before I left that the baby needs a toothbrush for his 6 teeth. So I bought 4 bags of candy and 2 toothbrushes. I thought it was funny and mentioned it to the cashier. She didn’t laugh. I also shopped for some earrings to wear to a wedding this weekend. I found the perfect ones and almost bought them…until I realized they were cuff links. Oh, well.

So yeah…we won’t be hiding out in the back room tonight. Its a good thing, since we don’t really have a back room. I think giving out candy will be a great way to continue to connect with some of our neighbors. And you know what Halloween means? It means tomorrow is November and I can officially listen to Christmas music.

I know, I’m worse than Target.

Filed Under a girl, a mother, a sister 3 Comments

our trip to the mountains

October 30, 2007

I am not a traveling person these days. I think I was at one time. On personality tests I always end up sounding a lot more spontaneous about things like than I really am. I think I just remember how I was at 19 and answer the questions accordingly. Back then, the idea of jumping in the car or on a plane and going somewhere fun was exhilarating. Not that I really ever did that. But I liked the idea of it. These days, the idea of it just gives me a headache. I think it is the having-three-kids thing.

With this in mind, we took a day trip to the mountains over the weekend. In a day. With three kids. There and back. In a day. To the mountains. Did I mention the three kids? Little ones?

For a lot of people like us who only live a few hours drive from the mountains, the trip is really no big deal. Even with kids. But for me, non-spontaneous-trip girl….it was kind of a deal. It wasn’t even technically spontaneous. We have talked about doing it for a while, but didn’t plan to do it for sure until a few days ahead. A few days. In my book, that qualifies as spontaneous.

I have to say, I am so glad we went. There were loose plans involving lunch at a place where The Man knows the owner, driving along the parkway, seeing the pretty leaves, playing at the park in Blowing Rock, getting ice cream and driving home. Turns out we got hungry on the way up so we ate at KFC instead. Not exactly quaint. But for the most part, our day was a delight. Beautiful weather, content kids (most of the time), really hot husband.

I enjoyed admiring him from across the park as he followed the baby around and I hung with the girls. I remember driving to the mountains with him the first month we started dating. With just the two of us, it hardly qualified as a trip…I remember wishing the drive was longer so I could just be with him.

Not so on this trip. Not that I didn’t enjoy being with him, but I certainly wasn’t wishing for the drive to be longer. A lot of change 8 years brings. The company may be different, but the scenery was the same. What a gift to be able to share with our kids their first autumn in the mountains.

Filed Under a mother, a wife 2 Comments

you got all that from a bumper sticker?

October 24, 2007

Ever feel like your attempts at something new are threatened by the fact that so many other people are not only already doing it, but they are doing it better? I was behind a car today with a bumper sticker that read “I run 26.2 miles.” Putting aside my initial confusion (Run? You run 26.2 miles? Like, as in right now? Present tense? Really?), my thoughts after reading this were as follows:

Wow. 26.2 miles. I wonder how far that is? If I started running right now, where would I stop and it be 26.2 miles? I could run a marathon. If I trained. How would you train for that? Where would I begin? How long would it take? Think of all the people who have already run marathons and who are (according to the bumper sticker) in the process of running marathons and how far behind am I already in being able to run a marathon so what’s the point?

And then the light turned green and I forgot about it.

I have no desire to run a marathon, let me assure you. But it has made me think. How many things in the world have not been done because people are afraid to start? What are we afraid of? That we won’t win the marathon? That we won’t be the best dancer ever? Write the best book ever? Be the best cook ever?

Or worse…maybe I’ll look stupid.

Or worse worse…maybe it isn’t that so many other people are doing it better, maybe it’s that no other people are doing it at all. And the idea of being the first is just too…much.

It’s easy for me to get stuck there…to forget that success does not necessarily lie in the outcome of the attempt. And I won’t even say it is found in the mere fact that I attempted it…because maybe my reasons for doing so were wrong in the first place. But the Lord, He has plans for me. Plans to prosper, to give hope and a future. Will I allow my fear of attempting something to hinder or delay those plans?

Here’s a newsflash worthy of remembering: I don’t have to be the best. And it’s ok to be the first. Because life isn’t about how I compare with you or them or myself, for that matter. And when its not about me, the fear seems to lose its power and life becomes a lot more fun.

Filed Under a girl, a masterpiece 3 Comments

to have her peach and eat it, too

October 22, 2007

She was in a really bad mood. And in the midst of it, she realized she wanted a peach. Just a peach. She would have much preferred to be capable of cutting it and serving it for herself. But she is 3, so she could not. All she had to do was say “Mommy, may I please have a peach?” That’s it. Seven words.

But she would not.

She tried every other possible tactic. “Mommy, gimme some peach! I want it right now! I want a peach! I WILL have a peach. Give! It! To! Me!”

But I would not.

I repeated to her the requirement for receiving in this situation: “All you have to do is ask ‘Mommy, may I please have a peach?’ ” In other words, you must ask. You may not demand it. This won’t happen on your terms. After all, if she could get it on her own, all she gets is a peach. Ultimately, I want more for her.

Why does the Lord want me to ask Him for things? He already knows what I need, why can’t He simply give it? There are, in fact, so many things He generously gives without my asking, things I wouldn’t even think for which to ask. But I take and enjoy them anyway, many times not realizing they came from His hand. So I get the “thing”, but often times I miss the blessing. Sometimes I think He wants me to ask so that when I receive, there is no doubt about who gave it. It is a lesson in dependence…a reminder that there is Another upon which I am called to rest. He is the Giver.

I wanted to give her the peach.

But not just that…I wanted her to recognize that I wanted to give her the peach. But I also wanted her to have the blessing of asking, then receiving. And I wanted her to understand, ultimately, that all I have is hers…and she is loved.

After many tears, much screaming and a bit of encouragement, she conceded. Though muffled and soft, her request was spoken and granted. She got the peach…but I think the a hug and the high five meant a lot more.

Because afterwards, though she tried to hide it, she was smiling.

Filed Under a mother 3 Comments

long days, short years

October 16, 2007

I spoke with a mother of teenagers on the phone tonight. It was nearly 6pm and she apologized for interrupting our dinner. I assured her our dinner had ended long ago and we were on our way to bath time. She seemed to pause on the phone, and then sigh with a mix of memory and longing. “I wish we had a reason to eat early at our house. I miss those days.” And I knew what she meant.

Though her children still live at home, they can drive now and they have grown. They eat with their friends, at odd hours, on the run, or not at all. They have places to be, things to do, day timers of their own. They have deadlines to keep, relationships to pursue, tests to ace, things to prove. They are eager for life to begin. And their mother…well, she is watching and waiting and available. And she is preparing for the day when her babies leave the house and are on their own for real.

I don’t always enjoy the life stage that I am in. But tonight, I can’t get enough of it. I am breathing in his downy scent in a desperate attempt to hold on. I am watching the girls play make-believe with barbie dolls and baby bears. Their faces so soft, doughy, flawless. I am praying for their spouses, for the mothers of their spouses..women who are just like me somewhere in the world, taking care of these little ones during days that seem to go on forever.

But you know, they won’t. So tonight, after a full day of play and poop, I am thankful.

Filed Under a mother 6 Comments

geriatrics, here i come

October 15, 2007

I’m getting old.

Let me put this into context. I spent almost 3 hours at the coliseum last night with a group of girls who are slightly (ok, a lot) younger than me. All still single, except one. There were strobe lights. There was really loud music. There was lots of dancing. Yes, I paid real money for a ticket to see So You Think You Can Dance on tour.

And it was awesome.

But I’m getting old. My initial clue to this inevitable fact surfaced during the opening number when my first thought was they could turn the music down a little. Followed by those flashing strobes are blinding and slightly panic inducing. Then, of course, I perused the room for the closest exit, just in case. Finally, I began to wonder what time I’d be able to get to bed. Not to mention the exaggerated yet involuntary flinching my body experienced every time one of the dancers danced too close to the edge of the stage. Then this morning, when I woke up, I noticed that my lower back was tight and sore. Those darn uncomfortable coliseum seats…

And that’s when it hit me. Weaved in between my enjoyment of the paso dobles, pirouettes and krumping were the thoughts of an old woman. They came naturally, without effort. Wasn’t there a time when I could stay out really late and listen to really loud music and watch strobe lights without needing medication?

It was tons of fun, don’t get me wrong. I’ll just have to stick to 3 year old dance recitals if I want to feel as though I’m in my element.

Filed Under a girl, a mother 3 Comments

making evil out of nothing at all

October 12, 2007

Dear lady in front of me in line at Target,

I’m sorry I stuck my tongue out at you behind your back. It’s just that when my child was screaming Mommy, I want that big hairband! over and over at the top of her lungs and you glanced down at her with a blank expression, I interpreted it as a hey- loud- and-obnoxious- little-girl-stop-screaming-and-acting-so-spoiled-and-let-me-shop-in -peace-and-why-can’t-you-get-her-under-control-you-bad-mom-you glance.

But then when we walked out of the store and you stopped me in the parking lot and told me how beautiful my kids were and gently said to my daughter “Your mommy is doing the best she can” well, I started to feel bad. Really bad.

So, I’m sorry for turning your innocent glance into an evil one. Next time I will be careful not to project thoughts onto others that are, in fact, my own. Thank you for offering your support to a stranger in the Target parking lot. And for not turning around when I was leaning aggressively toward you with my tongue aimed at the back of your head.

Sincerely,
Emily

Filed Under a mess, a mother 8 Comments