one... two... three... four...

I haven't gotten around to blogging about new year's resolutions yet, (or summer vacation for that matter), but today, I'm going to count to ten when I get the urge to raise my voice at my children because they are yelling and screaming at each other for not sharing dinosaurs, cars, dolls, books, pens, paper, crayons, Jonah... you get the idea.

I've found it's helped in the past for me to write it down here, so, let it be written.

(This may also be the topic of next week's Monday Mothering Forum, so you have a week to prepare...)

I am Woman

hear me roar. (Two posts in one month with a Helen Reddy reference...)

Last night, before heading up the stairs to shower, my belly was going to drive me insane with it's itchiness! With skin stretched to the max, this is a common occurrence. The itching was on the very underside of my belly; the part I can't see, the part that touches my thighs when sitting, or walking up stairs.

I remove my clothes to get in the shower, and I find blood on them, a warning sign for any pregnant woman. Upon closer examination, it looked like the bleeding came from my thigh. I looked at my thigh and saw a trace of blood, but no wound. I called John up the stairs to investigate. I couldn't see the underside of my belly, so someone had to check it out.

In my efforts to relieve the itching, I had scratched myself raw in one area, and when climbing the stairs, the place where my belly and thigh met was where the blood rubbed off.

As my husband got me some toilet paper to hold on my scratch, I was feeling a little annoyed (from a scratch?!).

"Please tell me," I ask him in an annoyed tone, "what do men have to go through, or put up with? What pains do you have to bear in this life?"

He paused at the entrance of our bathroom, "Ummm... we deal with hormones." He smiled.

"Your own?" I ask, "Try again."

"We have to deal with teenagers." he said.

I roll my eyes, and just look at him.

"We have to work." he said.

"Yeah, women work too - and have babies, and periods, and deal with other womanly issues, all at the same time. Cry me a river."

He could tell there would be no good answers in this conversation, and as he walked out of our bedroom, he said, "Hey, Eve ate the apple first..."

"Thanks!" I called after him. While I showered, I thought about how easy men have it.

It's funny that that was my evening, and then this morning, I read this post on this blog. Read it. You can even read it now, and come back here if you'd like. It's about being a woman, and the divinity within women. I loved it. Really, we women are awesome, the potential we have within each of us is amazing. I mean, hello, we can multi-task for heaven's sake!

Seriously, I think women are so powerful! We were divinely designed to be powerful.

One of my favorite quotes from the post I read this morning was this:

"She isn't less than, or more than, the next woman or man. She is her own entity which becomes cheapened when compared to others. When following the promptings inside of her soul to do whatever is important for her own life plan she simply has no equal."

I've felt that way for a long time now. I stopped comparing myself to others a long time ago, because I realized there is no other woman like me, and there is no other woman like you. There is no one to impress, but yourself. There is no one to compete with, but the forces trying to make you not follow the promptings you receive. I've been given a special set of talents, and you've been given a special set of talents, and when we follow through with those we have "no equal" because we don't share the same set of talents to compare. When we follow through with our talents, potential, and the "promptings inside our soul," we might as well be wearing our super woman capes.

Because, we really are super women.

And, occasionally, super women forget they are super women, and whine about scratches on the underside of their ginormous pregnant bellies.

Monday's Mommy Moment

I haven't posted a Monday's Mommy Moment in a while, but when I checked my email this morning, I knew I would today. To be honest, I rarely open forwards, but I did today. One of my friends sent this to me, and of course there wasn't an author listed. You shoul read it too. It may or may not have made me get a little misty...

Invisible Mother

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store.

Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?'

Obviously, not.

No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.

I'm invisible. The invisible Mom . Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this?

Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.'

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated sum a cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England ..

Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in.

I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.

I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'

It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe ..

I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription:

'To My Dear Friend, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.'

In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.

These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.

They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.

The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the workman replied, 'Because God sees'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.

It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.'

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life.

It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on.

The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're going to love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right.

And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

I tried to be June Cleaver

Yesterday, I tried to be June Cleaver. Minus the getting gussied-up part; I knew there wouldn't be time for that, and I think I've only worn pearls once in the past two years.

I was cleaning up the living room with Trevan while Mallary was napping, and I had this grandiose image pop into my head of surprising John when he got home that night with the living room being cleaned and vacuumed, the second Christmas tree getting decorated, the kitchen cleaned, the kids already having a bath, and a gourmet meal on the table. (Part of the meal that I actually got done can be seen HERE.)

That thought came at about 2pm, and Mallary wasn't up from her nap yet.

I still had to mail off an order (that I finished filling only hours before, containing 73 hair bows, and 15 headbands), go to the store to restock on some supplies for my business, decorate the tree, vacuum, clean the kitchen, and start dinner. Not including the time it takes to be a mother to two children during all of that. (In case you don't understand that last sentence - as a mother, you have to calculate in at least an extra 20 minutes to get something done, depending on the task, to stop and help your children with something, give someone a time out, fix a snack, change a diaper, clean up a mess... this list really could go on and on.)

Let's just say the pressure was on - but I was determined to do it all!

Needless to say I only mailed the order, got my supplies, cleaned the living room (though it was dirty by the time John got home), decorated part of the tree, and we ate dinner at 7:30. Plus, the gourmet meal I planned turned into only a main dish and baked sweet potatoes.

I was a little disappointed that I didn't get it all done, but you know what? I didn't care. I knew I had given my 100% to the day. So what if my day didn't turn out like June Cleaver's would have? June Cleaver also didn't make a ton of hair bows and headbands and take care of her kids in the morning either.

My thoughts of wanting to be June Cleaver for the day reminded me of a post I started a while ago but never posted because John happened to read it before I was done and said I sounded defensive and angry (I was neither). Well, I'm going to post it now because it fits in this topic.

Back in the summer, I was in a spin class, and the instructor said, “Oh, this is a tough one. I want you to give me 100 percent.”

“I can give you about 94,” I said out loud.

The story of my life.

I know I have talked about this with more than one person, but seriously the whole 100% effort kills me, because I don’t feel like I can give that in everything I do. It’s kind of like you can never get 100% of your knee completely shaved… isn’t that so annoying?

Here’s some history.

My parents never pressured us to make straight A’s, didn’t punish us for lower grades, etc. They just asked that we do our best. They even loved me when I got two D’s in college (D minus in Statistics - I was so proud of that D minus - seriously). I know I didn't always do my best, but that was what we were expected to do.

My older sister was a track/cross country star in high school; she may even still hold some records there. Well, my juvenile mind figured out that if I never tried my best in track then I could never really compare myself to her. I guess, I figured if I lost, I could say it wasn't because I wasn't any good, it was because I didn’t really try, so no one would be able to compare us. I knew if I wasn’t doing all my workouts then I could never say I wasn’t good. I was afraid that if I tried my best and lost then I knew I wasn’t very good. Yeah, that was a total loser mentality. I was satisfied with just placing - second and third were okay with me. What a bum for not giving my 100% to see what I could have really done. La- hoo-ser! (My volleyball coach in high school accused me of not trying my best, not really wanting it bad enough. With that, I did try my best. I think she may have thought I had too much fun in practice, making it look like I wasn’t trying my best. Hey, I just like to have a good time in what I am doing.)

Some of my days can be pretty overwhelming. I don’t feel like I can give 100% as a mother, an entrepreneur, a wife, and a housekeeper all at the same time, all on the same day. The nights I get a well-balanced meal on the table; we’re talking two vegetable sides, a healthy main dish, a fruit, and a dessert (how did my mom do it???) I feel like I should get a mommy award equivalent to an Emmy, an Oscar, or a Nobel Peace Prize. Seriously. There are those nights I get in bed, and sigh a sigh of “I did it,” knowing I was able to find some resemblance of balance and get things done. Then, there are those nights I crawl into bed (at 2 AM) feeling heavy from all the things I didn’t get done and need to do the next day.

If I had the time to focus just on business, I know I could get more clients, and be more organized. If I could focus on just being a mom, maybe Mallary wouldn’t be as crazy… Or if I even took more time when I blogged; writing rough drafts and proof reading, my writing would be better. But, life is not perfect, and I'm not perfect - it is a constant balancing act. Perfection is not attained in this life, and people beat themselves up over it every day.

My mom did not keep a spotless, tidy house - there were always piles of laundry, stacks of papers, etc. - it wasn’t her talent. Did she give 100% to try and make it tidy? Who knows? I feel like she did her best. But, who cares? She gave 100% in being our mom. She was there for her children, for making breakfast at the crack of dawn, for making dinner for us, for teaching us, for loving us, for supporting us, and trying to raise good people. She gave 100% in the things that mattered.

That’s what I have come to realize. I just need to focus on the important things, give my 100% to the things that matter. I now realize, that I can’t keep a spotless house while raising my children, running a business, and living life. I won’t always have a huge meal on my table every night, and I just can’t compare myself to my mom. She never tried to run a business while doing everything else at the same time, and I know she would tell me, “You’re doing better than you think you are.”

I've heard the saying that a person is going to judge you first on your appearance, and second on what your house looks like. Well, my mother taught me that we shouldn’t judge. I hate when people apologize for their messy house. Do they think I am going to like them any less because they have a pile of laundry in the corner, or they have dishes in the sink? I promise, I'm not like that.

Sometime after my mom died and I started my business. I stopped apologizing for my house being a mess. Does it still bug me sometimes? Yes! Do I wish it were clean? YES! But, why should I apologize for living? I remember people coming to the door when I was growing up, and mom saying before opening the door, "hurry, take your back packs upstairs." I've heard people apologize for their children's back packs being in an entry way or a living room floor. I understand you want to teach your children to take their things to their rooms, but to apologize because someone is seeing their backpacks? Are they trying to hide the fact that their children go to school? When I see a back pack in the floor, you know what I think? "Oh, so and so must be home from school." Never do I think, "I can't believe that they let their child just leave their back packs in the floor!" So silly.

Why should I apologize for the fact that my kids had fun playing in the living room today? Why should I apologize that my children were creative today and broke all the crayons into little bits and there are coloring books on the floor? I shouldn’t. And, neither should you. Our houses aren’t just houses, they are homes, and we live in our homes. Not just exist in our homes, we LIVE. Living involves messes. (SIDE NOTE: Please don't think that I think it is okay never to clean your house, because I am totally not saying that - just that my house isn't going to be perfect the majority of the time - and it's okay. One night the nieghbor girl came over and looked at our clean living room, and said,"Wow!" with her eyes all wide. I knew immediately what she was thinking; she usually only sees our house when the kids are awake. I said, "You didn't think I let my house be messy all the time did you? We clean up the living room every night, can you believe it gets that messy just by the next day?" She just shook her head and smiled.)

I came across an article that had this statement in it, "when you lose someone dear to you, it becomes evident to you what's unimportant." To me, worrying about the mess my kids made today is unimportant. In the next ten minutes I can either wash windows or play with my kids, I can send emails or make hair bows - I typically can't do it all - all in one day.

I've figured out I can't give 100% to everything that I want to give 100% to. I just need to focus on what's important, and give my 100% in the ten minutes I am cleaning my house, in the 10 minutes I am playing with my kids, or in the 10 minutes I have to work, or in the 5 minutes I have to do my hair (do pony tails count as giving 100%?). I know when I'm not giving 100%, and I know when I can do better.

We can't always be June Cleaver (well, I can't - maybe you can) and we have to be willing to let the unimportant things go. What’s unimportant to me won’t necessarily be what is unimportant to you. And, we shouldn’t judge each other on what those things are. What works for me might not work for you, and vice verse.

I think we can have and do it all - but we can't have it all be perfect, or do it perfectly all the time. We can just try our best and be our very own versions of June Cleaver.

Maybe, Jane Cleaver?

Image found here.

I decided

Vision Board Highlight: Believe you can


I am reading (and loving) this book right now:

And early this morning I decided to be wealthy (one of the five lessons).

"(Psychologists have proven that the simple act of writing down an intention-even if you don’t fully believe it- can yield powerful psychological results.)"

So I wrote it down for all to see.

Last night (or I should say very early this morning) on page 63 I came across a section I must share:

"One of the traits I often find women guilty of is undervaluing their abilities and talents (I think we are all guilty). While it’s common to find people with great talents who take their abilities for granted, women seem to be especially susceptible. “What I do is no big deal,” they tell themselves. “Anyone can do it.” The truth is, everyone can’t. (Where would Debbie Fields be if she had thought, “Anyone can bake a cookie”?) (Mrs. Fields cookies)

We’re the same way about our ideas. All too often we discount them, storing them in the bargain bins of our minds just because they seem obvious or simple to us. In doing so we forget that the most brilliant of ideas are almost always simple in concept. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “None of us will ever accomplish anything excellent or commanding except when (she) listens to this whisper which is heard by (her) alone.” "

I just need to say “AMEN!” I loved this! I had a friend that went to culinary arts school and I was telling her awesome I thought she was, and she replied, "It's nothing special, everyone can cook." Sure, anyone can follow a recipe, but not everyone can cook and put it together just like she could. We should embrace our talents, and believe we can! (I'm also so guilty of this by the way, and am sure many of you are too) It reminded me of this book I read while in Hawaii:

I loved this part of the book,

"I’m reminded of a scene from my army days. I was on the parade ground, watching a regiment drill in formation. Of the one hundred men marching, ninety-nine were in step, but one poor guy was off. “Look at him,” I remember saying to a friend, “they’re all in step except for that one guy.”

My friend studied the formation. “You’re wrong. Look closely. They’re all out of step. He’s the only one marching right-left, right-left to the sound of the drum as he should. He knows what he’s doing.”

Sometimes in life, everyone will act like you’re out of step. It’s okay to believe if for a while, but you must learn when you’re the one in step, driven by the beat of the drummer in your head, and everyone else is off." (p.99)

He (Mark Burnett) compared this to before he started filming Survivor he had a vision of interviewing the castaways a certain way, but other producers told him that it just was not the way it was done. But, he stuck to his guns, and tried it, and found it to be very effective, and “on the fly” interviews were created.

“Bottom line: believe in yourself. Your opinions and ideas are far more valuable than you give them credit for.” - Richard Paul Evans

Point to the fridge

A while ago, my friend Becky had a post on her blog about family mottos.

I’ve always wanted John and I to do a family mission statement to keep on our fridge. I imagined my kids as teenagers asking a question and I could just point to the fridge and say, does it go along with our family mission statement?

Seriously.

I had to come up with quite a few mission statements in college, my Entrepreneur class, my Facilities Management class, and others. I know I heard about families having mission statements in one of my classes, and always liked the idea. I don’t know how I came across this, but I found Cold Stone’s core values, and I may make them part of my family’s mission statement:

1. Do the right thing
2. Be the Best… Be #1
3. Bring out the best in our people
4. Profit by making people happy
5. Win as a team

I think those are great.

Seriously.

Then, I was thinking about it, and really I could just post a picture of Christ on our fridge. Isn’t that our mission, to become like Him? That’s what I am trying to do and what I am trying to teach our children. I could also put a picture of my mother as our mission statement on the fridge. As a result of becoming more like her, I know I would become more like Him.

picture found here

I don’t think it matters if you believe in God or not. If to you, Jesus is just a fictional story about a man. Well, it’s a story about a man who loved everyone unconditionally, even gave his life. He fed the hungry, took care of the sick, he was forgiving, and he served tirelessly. Wouldn’t the world be such a better place if everyone tried to be more like that, and we were teaching our children to be like that? So, whatever your religion, if one at all, I think the mission is to become better people - to be better human beings.

So, whether the picture on your fridge is Mother Teresa or your own mother, I think it would be great to have a picture as our family mission statement, Cold Stone’s core values would be implied.

Anyone out there have a family mission statement or motto? I think it would be fun to hear some.

Scaredy Cat?

I was lying in bed last night listening to John snore (if there was a soundtrack to my life, snoring would be half of it) and I started thinking about the book review post. I thought about how we can spread out in all directions if we want to, but sometimes we let fear stunt our growth.

Fear of failure, fear of rejection, fear of not being accepted, fear of being judged, fear of not being good enough, and so on. Don't you think we do that sometimes?

There is a scripture I love in the New Testament, it is 2 Timothy 1:7, "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and love, and of a sound mind."

I think when we embrace the power within us (our talents and abilities?), and employ our sound mind (our knowledge?), and leave our heart open (to learn new things, and loving makes us larger people) we forget about the fear and become unstoppable!

The older I get, the less fearful I have become, but there are definitely times I have to remind myself, "Okay, I can do this, they can only tell me, 'no.' I do know what I am doing, it will turn out fine." "I don't care what people think." etc.

I think once we put our fear aside, we can really make things happen!
I feel my branches spreading out already!

GOOOOOO TEAM!