Oh, friends.
Guess what I did today? I'll give you a hint--it wasn't in keeping with my resolve to lead a more balanced life.
And I still feel incredibly stupid/guilty about it.
I stayed up late last night--about an hour later than usual--because Phill and I just love to talk to each other sometimes. Sweet reason, but holy moly, was I tired when I woke up.
So tired that I didn't feel a bit less tired after I dropped Reed off at school. So tired that breakfast didn't do a darn thing to perk me up, and I felt like I'd been drugged. So I felt a little nap was warranted. Note: I'm thinking 20, 30 minutes--just enough to rejuvenate me or trick me into thinking I'm not tired anymore.
I fell asleep at about 10:30. I slept the heavy sleep where I couldn't get my limbs to move, and where my dreams were long and detailed. I slept. And slept. And slept.
Until I woke up! And wondered quietly what time it was, assuming that it was probably about lunch time--about noon--and got up just as Jaxon asked me if he could go answer the knock at the front door.
It was my beloved neighbor/friend, Sarah. "Phill tried to call you to remind you to get Reed because it's early-out. He couldn't reach you--" (oh my word oh my word oh my WORD of COURSE he couldn't reach me because remember? I was sleeping the heavy sleep where I couldn't get my LIMBS to move and ANSWER THE PHONE and REMEMBER IT WAS FRIDAY SO REED WOULD GET OUT AT 1:15 and it is 1:37!)--"so the school called me." She said it all with a calm smile, no judgment, nothing but goodness in her. My heart dropped to the floor and I asked her if she would get him--much faster than me needing to get ready and get the kids ready and THEN go get him--and sat on the couch and sobbed. I know it's not about me--but when I do something stupid, I feel stupid, and tend to have a long while where I wonder what on earth is wrong with me.
Sarah brought him home, in one smiling piece--bless his heart. He was fine. And as children so often are, he was completely forgiving. You fell asleep, Mom? For 3 hours? Straight through when school got out? It's all good. No problem.
I read to him for a while, cuddling him on the couch, looking deep into his big brown eyes and kissing his cheeks, telling him that I was so, so sorry, while he just smiled at me and reassured me that he was indeed intact.
I suppose I'm sharing this because
a) As mentioned above, I still feel guilty, and somehow sharing makes me feel a little less so.
b) If you've done this before, well, now you know I'VE done it, too, and who knows? maybe this makes you feel a little more forgiving of yourself.
and
c) By sharing this, I am HOPING to correct myself and NOT do this again--that is, not to miss picking up my child because I slept through it! This pounds into the ground for me the importance of going to bed at a decent hour....note to self: How about you don't start conversations with your husband entitled "How We Will Parent Them When They Are Teenagers" when it is already midnight, especially when you are still very much in the throes of Parenting Them While They Are Little, and the Teenager conversation has caused you to slip a bit on While They Are Little!!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Resolved
I am not so much of a resolutions-girl anymore.
For most of my years, though, I was quite the goal-oriented person, feeling a little thrill with every endeavor I put in writing. I made huge lists of changes to make, getting myself so excited and pumped. It was great--except for the fact that two days later, the wind was gone from my sails, and I was horribly discouraged at my inability to instantly change every area of my life that needed reform.
My issue--which is a common one--is that I am sometimes so well-intended that I bite off more than I can chew, and then of course end up choking on those big old chewy intentions. It is obvious to me (and most definitely to those of you who read LuLu) that I struggle with balance.
When I finally realized how ineffective was my new-year's-reformations current method, I started narrowing my focus. Picking only one or two things to improve. But even that was daunting, because I made them so specific.
An example of my process and how it changed:
My typical age 12, 1996 goal list--
Write in journal 3 pages every day.
Never fight with Abby.
Be mature.
Shower every day. (I don't even do that now. You think that's gross? Whatever. Every other day and some deodorant does me just fine.)
Age 17, 2001 goal list--
Write a novel (HA!)
Work out 6 days a week for 45 minutes each time (even while training for a marathon, this didn't happen.)
Lose 2 inches in my thighs (I will tell you that I secretly hoped this would happen in 2 weeks....oh, me and my thighs. We're still in counseling together. It's a rocky road.)
Get a job, save up enough money to get my own apartment (haaaHAAAAA.....)
And even as a mom, my more ambitious (and less realistic) lists--
Never lose my temper (actually, I still have hope that one day I will not have the habit of yelling. Anger may come and go, but the yelling thing....that's one that I have to be mindful of every day.)
Wake up early every day (I've already run this issue into the ground; I've concluded that it is something I'll have to work on off-and-on forever.)
Work out 6 days a week for 45 minutes each time (Hi, 17-year-old Rae! Where did YOU come from?!)
Lose 2 inches in my thighs (Shut up, 17-year-old Rae. Just shut up.)
Write for an hour each day (I still have that novel in mind--no joke)
Practice my cello 30 minutes each day (told you this was the more-ambitious less-realistic list)
Drink 2 liters of water every day
Have only one small sweet treat a day--or none at all
It all comes from a good place--that part of me that so badly wants to do as well as I can at the things that matter.
I know that there is nothing wrong with ambition, and nothing wrong with a desire for improvement. But when I try to do it all at once, I am simply going to shut down. It is too much. Too much for anyone to do at one time.
The new way I think about how I want to improve--new as in only maybe last year and this year--is that I am very broad about it. Some people like one word to remind them of their areas of focus. I like to consider what is good about what I'm already doing, and then decide what most needs attention.
Oddly enough, this year, one word does sum up all of my areas of focus.
Balance.
This is a word that reminds me of women with soothing voices on yoga DVD's, telling you to balance your energy or balance your chi or your breath or your mind or whatever--a word that has, I think, been thrown around loosely. But in its purest sense, this word is just right for me.
At my worst, I am all-or-nothing. I can't play my cello today because I might not be able to play it consistently for the next few years. I can't write only a page today because I might not keep writing tomorrow. I can't do the dishes because I need the whole house clean first. I can't clean the house until I work out, I can't work out until I eat breakfast, I can't eat breakfast until I drop Reed off and I can't drop Reed off until I wake up and if I don't wake up early then everything goes south and--you get the point. Tying myself in knots.
At my best, I am mindful that a little bit goes a long way. Each effort has merit. Each day leads into another, with more opportunities to finish what I didn't the day before. I remember that progress is gradual, and that I might not see the fruits of my labors until much later. But none of my hard work will be for nothing. We get out what we put in.
So in a gentle way, I am applying the word "balance" to my life. I might not get up early every day, but I will keep chipping away at it, and maybe 7:00 will become habitual. I may find my temper flaring at moments throughout the day, but maybe with practice, it will become second-nature to act with patience and a quiet voice in these heated moments. I may not publish a novel this year, or next year, or in the next decade or two or three....and I might not be a virtuoso cellist....or have photos published in some notable magazine or win a prestigious photography contest or book more shoots this year than last. But I can still do something creative each day, and enjoy the things that feed my soul.
Even if the end result might not be perfection, the effort is worthwhile. (What a balanced sentiment!)
For most of my years, though, I was quite the goal-oriented person, feeling a little thrill with every endeavor I put in writing. I made huge lists of changes to make, getting myself so excited and pumped. It was great--except for the fact that two days later, the wind was gone from my sails, and I was horribly discouraged at my inability to instantly change every area of my life that needed reform.
My issue--which is a common one--is that I am sometimes so well-intended that I bite off more than I can chew, and then of course end up choking on those big old chewy intentions. It is obvious to me (and most definitely to those of you who read LuLu) that I struggle with balance.
When I finally realized how ineffective was my new-year's-reformations current method, I started narrowing my focus. Picking only one or two things to improve. But even that was daunting, because I made them so specific.
An example of my process and how it changed:
My typical age 12, 1996 goal list--
Write in journal 3 pages every day.
Never fight with Abby.
Be mature.
Shower every day. (I don't even do that now. You think that's gross? Whatever. Every other day and some deodorant does me just fine.)
Age 17, 2001 goal list--
Write a novel (HA!)
Work out 6 days a week for 45 minutes each time (even while training for a marathon, this didn't happen.)
Lose 2 inches in my thighs (I will tell you that I secretly hoped this would happen in 2 weeks....oh, me and my thighs. We're still in counseling together. It's a rocky road.)
Get a job, save up enough money to get my own apartment (haaaHAAAAA.....)
And even as a mom, my more ambitious (and less realistic) lists--
Never lose my temper (actually, I still have hope that one day I will not have the habit of yelling. Anger may come and go, but the yelling thing....that's one that I have to be mindful of every day.)
Wake up early every day (I've already run this issue into the ground; I've concluded that it is something I'll have to work on off-and-on forever.)
Work out 6 days a week for 45 minutes each time (Hi, 17-year-old Rae! Where did YOU come from?!)
Lose 2 inches in my thighs (Shut up, 17-year-old Rae. Just shut up.)
Write for an hour each day (I still have that novel in mind--no joke)
Practice my cello 30 minutes each day (told you this was the more-ambitious less-realistic list)
Drink 2 liters of water every day
Have only one small sweet treat a day--or none at all
It all comes from a good place--that part of me that so badly wants to do as well as I can at the things that matter.
I know that there is nothing wrong with ambition, and nothing wrong with a desire for improvement. But when I try to do it all at once, I am simply going to shut down. It is too much. Too much for anyone to do at one time.
The new way I think about how I want to improve--new as in only maybe last year and this year--is that I am very broad about it. Some people like one word to remind them of their areas of focus. I like to consider what is good about what I'm already doing, and then decide what most needs attention.
Oddly enough, this year, one word does sum up all of my areas of focus.
Balance.
This is a word that reminds me of women with soothing voices on yoga DVD's, telling you to balance your energy or balance your chi or your breath or your mind or whatever--a word that has, I think, been thrown around loosely. But in its purest sense, this word is just right for me.
At my worst, I am all-or-nothing. I can't play my cello today because I might not be able to play it consistently for the next few years. I can't write only a page today because I might not keep writing tomorrow. I can't do the dishes because I need the whole house clean first. I can't clean the house until I work out, I can't work out until I eat breakfast, I can't eat breakfast until I drop Reed off and I can't drop Reed off until I wake up and if I don't wake up early then everything goes south and--you get the point. Tying myself in knots.
At my best, I am mindful that a little bit goes a long way. Each effort has merit. Each day leads into another, with more opportunities to finish what I didn't the day before. I remember that progress is gradual, and that I might not see the fruits of my labors until much later. But none of my hard work will be for nothing. We get out what we put in.
So in a gentle way, I am applying the word "balance" to my life. I might not get up early every day, but I will keep chipping away at it, and maybe 7:00 will become habitual. I may find my temper flaring at moments throughout the day, but maybe with practice, it will become second-nature to act with patience and a quiet voice in these heated moments. I may not publish a novel this year, or next year, or in the next decade or two or three....and I might not be a virtuoso cellist....or have photos published in some notable magazine or win a prestigious photography contest or book more shoots this year than last. But I can still do something creative each day, and enjoy the things that feed my soul.
Even if the end result might not be perfection, the effort is worthwhile. (What a balanced sentiment!)
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Love this quote.
People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.
--the inscription on the wall of Mother Teresa's orphanage in Calcutta
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.
--the inscription on the wall of Mother Teresa's orphanage in Calcutta
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A new name for a new year
My sister Kate is a brilliant artist. She can draw something funny, or tender, or heartbreaking, or evocative, or abstract. She has created beautiful and clever pieces of art since she was tiny, and I have always been a fanatical fan.
I have had the distinct privilege of convincing her to bring to life an idea of mine--an idea for my blog, along with my new title. She is responsible for the clever, humorous, cheerful and brilliantly executed portrayal of my idea--which you now see on my header!
So--introducing the new title: LuLu.
A little background might be good.
When my mom was pregnant with me, she enjoyed the idea of naming me Charlotte or perhaps Hannah. When I was born, however, it was immediately clear (how?) that I was not Charlotte, and not Hannah. My dad suggested they name me after my aunt--Rachel--and after a phone call to her, I was given my rightful name.
My nickname, Rae, was a natural off-shoot of Rachel, given that it was what our great-grandmother, Anna Rebecca, was called for short; it was also my aunt's nickname. It fits us to a "T". With all these Rachels and Raes, you can imagine there would be a little bit of confusion. Enter Lulu.
When I was about 4 years old, standing in the kitchen in the house in North Carolina laughing with my mom, I said something silly, and she laughed and said, "Oh, you little Lulu." I was in hysterics. I loved it.
It stuck. When reunions rolled around, it seemed only natural to differentiate between me and my aunt by calling me the darling nickname of Lulu. And it became as natural to me as Rae and Rachel. I might even go as far as to say that Lulu is the name that makes me feel most a part of my family--immediate and extended. It sums up, for me, all the happier things about myself--my silly side, my soft side, my motherly side.
*As a fun sidenote, the name means "warrior". That can't hurt!
Not to say that the name change suggests I didn't like Creative Catharsis. I was just ready to change it. I like that Lulu leaves it open to whatever I write--not just creative writing or venting.
So: Into the new year I go!
I have had the distinct privilege of convincing her to bring to life an idea of mine--an idea for my blog, along with my new title. She is responsible for the clever, humorous, cheerful and brilliantly executed portrayal of my idea--which you now see on my header!
So--introducing the new title: LuLu.
A little background might be good.
When my mom was pregnant with me, she enjoyed the idea of naming me Charlotte or perhaps Hannah. When I was born, however, it was immediately clear (how?) that I was not Charlotte, and not Hannah. My dad suggested they name me after my aunt--Rachel--and after a phone call to her, I was given my rightful name.
My nickname, Rae, was a natural off-shoot of Rachel, given that it was what our great-grandmother, Anna Rebecca, was called for short; it was also my aunt's nickname. It fits us to a "T". With all these Rachels and Raes, you can imagine there would be a little bit of confusion. Enter Lulu.
When I was about 4 years old, standing in the kitchen in the house in North Carolina laughing with my mom, I said something silly, and she laughed and said, "Oh, you little Lulu." I was in hysterics. I loved it.
It stuck. When reunions rolled around, it seemed only natural to differentiate between me and my aunt by calling me the darling nickname of Lulu. And it became as natural to me as Rae and Rachel. I might even go as far as to say that Lulu is the name that makes me feel most a part of my family--immediate and extended. It sums up, for me, all the happier things about myself--my silly side, my soft side, my motherly side.
*As a fun sidenote, the name means "warrior". That can't hurt!
Not to say that the name change suggests I didn't like Creative Catharsis. I was just ready to change it. I like that Lulu leaves it open to whatever I write--not just creative writing or venting.
So: Into the new year I go!
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