Shut Up and Listen

Settle down. I'm talking to myself here.

My biggest weaknesses as a human being are my self-control and quick-temper, as well as many other little qualities that fall under the same umbrellas. I've battled these faults in my personality for years, and in many ways am much better than I once was, but I will probably never be cured.

One such quality that falls into the "self-control" arena that I've especially struggled with lately is listening. Yes, simply listening. I find myself thinking so fast and in so many different directions that I never shut up. I'm interrupting people a lot (so sorry) and even talking over others. It's frustrating.

What's more frustrating, obviously, is the mere fact that I realize I'm doing it, and, yet, I still do it.

This quote is me in a nutshell. (Sigh.) I have a constant, burning need to defend myself. I'm sure I could blame something in my childhood for this defensiveness (no offense Mom and Dad), but who knows what it could be. And no matter; it's something I have to deal with now.

Therefore, my "Mid-Year Resolution" is to be a better listener. If I interrupt you, call me on it. If I'm talking over you, tell me to shut up. There's only one way to fix a flaw:  confront it.   

One Year, Baby!

IN honor of the ONE YEAR anniversary of our move to the country, I would love to share with you the top 6 differences in our lives from one year ago to now. Some of these are not truly new to me, but simply things I had forgotten about. No matter the case, we can't deny that our lives are different.

#6:  My car has high-beam headlights. In the five years previous to our move, I don't think I used my high-beams once. Now, I use them almost any time I'm driving at night. Exciting, I know.

#5:  Everyone waves. Growing up in Fairfield, I am familiar with this trend, and it is one of my favorite traditions. But I'm out of practice. So please forgive me if I don't wave. I promise I don't mean to be rude; I honestly didn't see you. And I very often doubt my ability to recognize your vehicle. I promise I'll get better.

#4:  My cravings for Starbucks are as strong as the first day I moved here. As well as my need to visit Target daily. And the vast variety of restaurants. I became accustomed to the conveniences of the city, and I'm still adjusting to not having them. 

#3:  I'm cooking A LOT. On the flip side of #4 is the fact that we're eating at home more than ever, which means we're saving a lot of money. So, YAY! My family might not be so excited (I'm not the best cook), but we're all getting plenty to eat, so I think we'll survive.  

#2:  We miss our neighbors. The choice to buy in the country was 100% ours, but the kids and I definitely miss our neighborhood, Meadow Bend. Austin and Addison had neighbor friends over almost daily. "Driveway Time" with Sarah, Laura, and Rhonda were special to me. Those friendships will be dear to us always.

#1:  The Stars. I absolutely forgot how beautiful the sky is at night. You might think I'm exaggerating, but I promise you the sky in the city is bland compared to the beauty I witness each night. It is my favorite thing about the country. When I look up, peacefulness comes over me. I am reminded that a greater Being is in control. The stars are absolutely indescribable.

If I listed the pros and cons of each, I still wouldn't be able to decide which I prefer, the city or the country. Although our lives are different, I'm just as happy as I've always been. Did I mention the stars?

It's Graduation Day

WE walked into the newly built gas station in our Sunday best.  There was an old man sitting in a chair next to the cash register drinking his morning coffee and chatting with the attendant.  He sweetly complimented Austin and Addison's attire and asked if we were headed to a graduation.  I responded that we were on our way to a funeral, to which he replied with a smile on his face, "Well, that's a kind of graduation."

No truer words have ever been spoken.

It was no coincidence that I met this man. It was a predetermined encounter ordained by our Creator. I told this story at Papa's graveside service just before I recited the poem "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye. It seemed fitting. Praise God Papa has graduated on to something bigger and better.

Do not stand at my grave and weep 
I am not there. I do not sleep. 
I am a thousand winds that blow. 
I am the diamond glints on snow. 
I am the sunlight on ripened grain. 
I am the gentle autumn rain. 
When you awaken in the morning's hush 
I am the swift uplifting rush 
Of quiet birds in circled flight. 
I am the soft stars that shine at night. 
Do not stand at my grave and cry; 
I am not there. I did not die. 

Edward Edell "Papa" Ridge was one genuine man. I've never met another like him, and I doubt I ever will. My fondest memories include many games of 42 and many, many stories. He never started his stories with "Did I tell you about the time," because I promise he knew he had. He would just say, "Let me tell you about..."

A genuine man indeed.  He fought a bear; cheated at dominoes; could fix any machinery known to man; was proud of his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren and worried constantly over them; loved his family unconditionally; and most especially loved his wife more than any man has ever loved a woman before. The love between Mamma and Papa could be physically felt when you were in the same room with them. Women dream of the day they will be loved as such.

I only knew Papa for about 18 of his 89 years, so I'm sure there are better insights to be told by others. But I can tell you this from my short time with him:  he loved me as one of his own; he was generous beyond all expected measures; Austin and Addison were angels in his eyes; and in Papa's eyes Michael Ridge was a football genius from the moment he entered the world. I loved to hear the stories of the two of them watching Monday Night Football. Papa claimed Michael knew every team and player, could call the plays better than anyone else, and was destined to devote his life to the game.

Michael's favorite memories with Papa are those in front of the TV watching football. He had many heroes during that time, Tony Dorsett, Walter Payton, Roger Staubach, but as the years grew on he realized the true heroes weren't the guys on the TV but the man sitting next to him. The bond they shared was special, never to be replicated.

But the amazing thing about Papa was that he had a unique bond with all of his grandchildren. Judy was the only girl and spoiled beyond anything you've ever seen, or so I'm told.  And Pete...well, let me just say this: Papa lives on because Pete Ridge is just like him!

It's never easy to lose a parent or grandparent, no matter their age. And while it may be the way it's supposed to be, nothing ever prepares you for the sadness and longing that ensues, even though you know they are pain-free for maybe the first time in many, many years. You still want them with you.

But our prayers need to be especially focused on Mamma. She's lost the love of her life after 69 years of marriage. She was devoted to him from their wedding day forward, even during the last few years while he was in the nursing home. Every single day she would drive to that nursing home on Reunion Street and stay by his bedside until closing time. It was a unique and beautiful devotion.

(Photo Cred:  Judy Haggard)

On December 25th of this year Papa would have told us that he had seen 91 Christmases, even though he was only 90 (December 1st baby), just as he did every Christmas.  These are the memories we will cling to and cherish forever.

We love you, Papa. As Caylor said, keep on telling those stories in Heaven. They never get old.

Fashionista? Not so much.

As we piled in the car headed to Rand's 1st birthday, Austin looked at me with shocked eyes and asked why I was dressed so "fancy." This comes not minutes after Addison asked me the same thing in the bathroom. Said outfit:

This inquisition internally bothered me, but I couldn't figure out why.  

The next evening, Sunday, I wasn't feeling so great, and low and behold by midnight the stomach bug had hit me hard. Thankfully, it was a short-lived virus, and I only tell you this so you'll understand why I didn't see what my daughter wore to her field trip on Monday until after she was home.  

Addison walked in my bedroom Monday afternoon looking like the latest episode of "What Not to Wear: Kid's Edition." Black t-shirt. Black athletic shorts. Hair messy and unkempt. It suddenly dawned on me that this outfit became the norm for my Addison. She was Miss Sloppy, and she learned from the best.

Lately, I have let myself go. I've never been accused of being a fashion genius, but it wasn't unheard of for me to get a compliment from time to time on my latest outfit. Just a year ago, high school students were asking where I shopped. My new Grand Saline friends probably think I only own clothes with the labels Nike, Adidas, and Under Armour. While that actually sounds pretty awesome to me, it is, in fact, untrue. Sunday's adventure forced me to be truthful with myself. Simply put, I'm uncomfortable in my normal clothes right now. I'm at my top weight and I hate my body.  

I deal with the same body issues most women deal with. Yes, I know I'm smaller than some, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with where I am. I know where I used to be, and I know with just a little effort and willpower I could be there again. But, I'm always SO DANG TIRED, another universal conflict we share as women. Frankly, I'm writing this blog because I need to vent and it seems like I have no one to talk to about this. When it comes up in conversation with other girls, they usually get the same look on their face, the one that says, "Shut up, you skinny witch.  I would kill to be your size." But I feel the same way about my body as you do about yours. It sucks.  

Bottom line: I need to take better care of myself, both inside and out. (There may not be enough space on Blogger to tackle the inside.) I need this not only for myself but also for my daughter. It's important for her to grow up with a positive body image, and she's going to look to me first for that acceptance and accountability. I know I'll never be 118 lbs again, and that's okay. But I want to feel better, and I want to look at my body and know that I am doing the best I can with what the good Lord gave me.

 

I'm a work-in-progress, so don't expect a drastic change. But I might fix my hair tomorrow.  Maybe.

Mom Guilt Sucks

A blog I began yesterday, Sunday:

So, I've been in bed all freaking day. Sniffles, sneezing, major sinus headache, can't breath, you know the drill. And all I can think about is that my kids need me. It's a beautiful Sunday and I should be with them. But, I'm completely worthless. Why does this bother me so?

Is it society? Am I receiving subliminal messages through television and media that says I should be with my kids every chance I get, sick or not, because they're only mine for a short time? Or am I putting that pressure on myself?

It's frustrating! Why do I feel so guilty about being sick when it's not something I can control? Okay, no more questions...let me tell you what I think.

Yes, in my opinion and experiences, our society has conditioned moms to feel guilty when they are not with their kids, no matter the reason. And when I say "society" I mean MEN. (Forgive the generalization; I'm only kidding, for the most part...)  I'm not a good mom if I'm not with Austin and Addison every chance I get. But the truth is, if I give in to these subliminal messages, that's really my problem.  I am choosing to allow outside sources to dictate my feelings about myself, and I take full responsibility for that.

Honestly, I do want to be with the Double A's (yeah, I just made that up) ALL THE TIME. Austin, at the age of 10, has already lived at home longer than he will probably live at home in the next 10 years. Did I just say that out loud? It's too much to think about.

Addison has come into my room from time to time throughout the day and snuggled with me, and each time I feel the urge to apologize for my inactivity. After all, there are dishes to do, a house to pick up, and dinner to cook, on top of the urge I have to just hang out with my family. Each time I apologize, she looks up with those big, beautiful green eyes and says, "We are spending time together. Snuggling is being together." Children are so wise! Why don't we listen to them or believe them when they graciously impart their wisdom on us? We think we know more because we've lived longer, but we're tainted.  We live with a permanent filter.  Children help us see through that filter, and we should take their innocent advice and observations to heart.

Today's continuation of the above blog:

I was feeling so bad yesterday that I decided to visit the doctor today. I officially have the crud. After a shot and two prescriptions, my mom guilt is cured! I literally needed a doctor to tell me I was sick so I wouldn't feel guilty. Crazy? Yes! But I can live with it for now.

Great blog I read regarding mom guilt! http://www.mommywithselectivememory.com/2012/03/french-women-dont-have-mommy-guilt.html

Why I Owe My Parents a Huge Apology

Parenting is tough.  And the sad part is I'm only dealing with a 6-year-old and a 10-year-old.  I can't imagine when I'm living with teenagers.  So here's our situation...

My son is displaying signs of back-talking.  "Displaying signs" probably aren't the right words, he's flat out doing it.  A lot.  And I'm sad to say, I know exactly from where he gets it.  I was very well known in the family unit for my stubborn will and constant need to get in the last word, no matter the shade of red of my dad's face.  I was continuously in trouble. (I also had an evil step-mother who didn't help the situation, but that's a story for another day.)  Sidenote:  Leslie Carter and myself were known around school as the girls who were ALWAYS grounded (which shocked me because Leslie was such a good girl!)

On one hand, I feel terrible for what I must have put my parents through.  It's extremely frustrating to have a kid who will not-shut-up after your buttons are beyond pushed.  On the other hand, this same character flaw has made me who I am today, a no-nonsense, bold, self-confident woman.  So, it's not all bad, right? That's what I'm telling myself as I open the spoon drawer after an Austin encounter.  I know he must face the consequences of the back-talk, but at the same time I'm proud.  He's learning to respect adults, as he should, but he is also learning to stand up for himself.  I won't worry so much about him; he's got guts.  It doesn't make it any easier on me now, though.  (And let's hope he never reads this.)

This may not make sense to a lot of people, but it does to me.  It's hard, and I will continue to parent as I should, but I also love the young man Austin's becoming, and I wouldn't change one thing about him.  He's perfect in only the way Austin can be.

So, I really must apologize to my mom and dad for all the hell I put them through, from the time I was born (colic for nine months) to well into my 20's.  I was a stubborn, unruly child and young adult, and I'm not so sure anything has really changed. (You'll have to ask Michael Ridge about that.)

But the question still remains:  if Austin earned this character flaw from me, from whom did I get it?  There's only two possibilities...