Tag Positive

The Unexpected (Unwanted) Push

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When I was collecting ideas for my post on the Monster Hissy Fit, my friend Angela told me about a time when her daughter Brielle melted down and held up the queue for a zipline ride. The story of that zipline experience inspired its own post.

As many rides do, the Pumpkin Patch zipline required riders to be a certain height and weight and to wear a safety helmet. Brielle has wonderfully thick, dark hair. She always wears it in a high ponytail. The safety helmet for the zipline required her to lower the ponytail. Brielle was not agreeable to this stipulation and refused to let Angela redo her hair.

The line was growing longer, the ponytail was not fitting tightly in the helmet, and the operators of the ride were not willing to let her go without the helmet fitting snuggly. Angela did what any rational mother would do in this situation.

She shoved the helmet over the ponytail, pushed her daughter off the platform, and let the ride operators know she took responsibility for her daughter’s safety and the loose helmet.

After experiencing the exhilaration of the zipline, Brielle came running from the ride, face flushed back to Angela, and she cried in disbelief, “You pushed me!”

Her obstinate girl got what she wanted, but she did not appreciate Angela’s push.

Have you ever been pushed into something you weren’t ready for?

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Don’t Feed the Fears.

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Last week I heard someone say, “Fear is what you feed it.” It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it, but for some reason this time the adage activated my little, blog-writing mind. I began thinking about all the fears I have been feeding lately. Holiday planning pressures, parenting failures, scheduling screw-ups, physical fitness, and financial flops were just a few of my starving stressors.

To assuage my anxious appetite, I planned to attend a Stretch and Flex class at the gym. It’s a yoga-inspired class that is calming and physically challenging all at once.

I was stoked.

Unfortunately, I was also at the gym at the WRONG time.

When I arrived, I saw the yoga mats being rolled up and stationary bikes being rolled out. What!?! Stretch and Flex was the 5:00 a.m. class. I had just showed up for the 5:50 a.m. spin class.

This did not look relaxing. This looked like I was going to have to get on a bike.
(I have never been much of a bike rider and the idea of a spin class frightened me.)

My friend Kristen, the class instructor, was elated to see me and rushed to adjust MY bike seat to the correct height and help shove my feet in the strap, cage-looking contraptions on the pedals.
(What if I fell off? I was going to be hung up in a stationary bike. This was going to be rough.) Kristen kindly showed me where to put my water bottle and placed a hand weight on my handlebars. Apparently, I was ready for spin class.

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Monster Hissy Fit

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Hissy fits are a fantastic part of life.

They turn outings to the grocery store into memorable outbursts of embarrassment and feelings of parenthood failure.

Recently, one of my little buddies invited me to play monster trucks with him, I got lucky enough to pick up the Monster Truck called Hissy Fit. Upon discovery of that serpent-covered Hot Wheels, a traffic jam of memories rolled through my mind. The memories included meltdowns manufactured by my children, students, and even some of my own personal hysterics.

Do you ever feel like you have been hit by a monster hissy fit?

The hissy fit doesn’t have to come from a loved one.

The fit can sneak up on you from within.

I know that I have lashed out at my unsuspecting husband and children when they had no idea the emotion truck was about to roll into our house. It may have been stress from that day or lack of sleep from the previous nights, but I know I have made a demolish derby out of basic dinner conversation a time or two.

Not too long ago, when I was innocently teasing my daughter, she took her own emotional detour, and painfully for me Hubby turned with her. I was blindsided by their accusations that I always intentionally aggravate her. It hurt and left me shattered inside.

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Don’t Be a Parrot

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Last summer as my friend Jackie was recovering from a very serious health scare, I pleaded with her to tell me how I could help. She said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m not a parrot and I can’t just say what you want to hear.” I told her I didn’t want her to be a parrot, I wanted her to be honest with me about what we needed to do to get her back on track. I asked her to give me two or three things I could do to assist in her recovery. And that’s where we began.

I think we’ve all been in situations where we didn’t know where to start or what to say. Sometimes finding a starting point seems harder than reaching the finish line. All too often, we play the role of the parrot telling others what we believe they want to hear because it’s easier than asking for what we really need.

When I had wrist and elbow surgery last December, I had friends and family ask how they could help. I didn’t want to be a burden, especially during such a busy holiday season, so I just told them to pray for me. (Prayer is always a GREAT idea.) However, once my arm was in that cast and I was feeling the pain of recovery, it was a whole lot easier to ask for what I needed. We shouldn’t have to feel pain in asking for help.

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The Cost of Frugality

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When I was a kid, one of the most exciting parts of going back to school was new “school” shoes. In keeping that tradition alive, I always make a big deal about new shoes for my kiddos when shopping for school supplies. This year was no different, except for the fact that my 13-year-old refused to get new sneakers. His feet had outgrown every pair of shoes he owned, but it did not matter. He refused to even look at a pair of tennis shoes.

Normally, my son is a sneaker-head. He LOVES shoes, particularly basketball and baseball footwear.

When I asked him why he didn’t want new shoes, he said, “I’m saving you and Dad money.”

I then asked, “If I don’t buy you new school shoes, do you believe I won’t make you go back to school?”

He gave me a sly grin and said, “Maybe.”

He is ridiculous. His ankles were hurting. Due to the holes in his shoes, his toes had experienced multiple traumas. He complained of his knees aching. Never did he realize that it might have had something to do with his tragic choice of footwear.

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Is Twinning Really “Winning”?

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When I invited my friend Katie to join in on my restorative sabbatical at a nearby AirBnB cabin, I packed good food, comfortable clothes, wine, and books. Not surprisingly, Katie packed similar supplies for our excursion. The most pleasant surprise though was found in Katie’s bag of books and magazines. Without prior discussion, my gal pal and I packed the same book, The Noticer by Andy Andrews. We were book twinning!

With millions of book titles in the world, it was kookie kismat that Katie and I independently chose identical titles for our escape.

“So what?” you might say. “What does book twinning have to do with anything?”

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What Do Turkeys Dream About?

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While waiting for my son’s practice to end, I chatted with another gym mom and her little girl. I asked the little girl about her day, and she told me she played at school and came to practice with her sister. When she inquired about my day, I told her I spent the whole time trying to make turkeys’ dreams come true.

She gave me an incredulous look and asked why I would do that. I told her that I was a turkey farmer. Then she asked, “What do turkeys dream about?”

Well, that was a stumper!

I told her I wasn’t sure what they dream about because no turkey had ever told me his dreams.

She told me I was silly because turkeys don’t talk.

What I should have admitted to her was that I had never asked a turkey what his dreams were…

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Defining Sabbatical

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What the heck is a “sabbatical”? This was the question my kids asked as I planned a mini-vacation for myself. I explained to them that a “sabbatical” was my time to recharge after surviving the spring semester. According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary, a sabbatical is a break or change from a normal routine (as of employment).

What does “sabbatical” mean to you?

After subbing the last 13 weeks of the school year for junior high language arts and fulfilling my duties for our farm, I needed a break from the “normal” routine. I needed a complete reset, so booking a cabin for a couple of nights made perfect sense. My packing consisted only of comfortable clothes, food, books, wine, and melatonin. I was bound and determined to relax on my “sabbatical.”

The hardest part about taking the sabbatical was my guilt. I felt terribly guilty about leaving hubby and the kiddos and neglecting my responsibilities at our home and farm. I felt guilty about missing baseball games and gymnastics practices. I felt guilty about leaving my dog. I felt guilty about the fact that I had no purpose other than to rest. I was crazy.

Taking those 72 hours to relax, recharge, and rediscover my motivation was the healthiest thing I could have done. I now believe that is what a sabbatical should do.

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I Am Not Okay – Stuck on Repeat

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Listening to the radio is often frustrating because I feel like the same songs are played over and over. Like most people, my drive times are pretty consistent. Two days a week I drive my son to his 6:00 p.m. practice. When we get in the car, we jokingly place bets on what songs we will hear first because they are always the same.

In the past few weeks, there has been one song in particular that I haven’t minded being on repeat. It is “I Am Not Okay” by Jelly Roll.
(If you haven’t heard it, please give it a listen, but be sure to listen all the way through.)

While singing along with the gravel, grit, and pain in Jelly Roll’s voice, I started to feel something loosening in my heart last week. I looked at my 11-year-old and sang, “I am not okay. I’m barely getting by. I’m losing track of days and losing sleep at night… I know I can’t be the only one who’s holding on for dear life.” My sweet boy laughed at me and said, “Mom, you are okay.” As I sang the rest of the lyrics to him via my in-car concert, I felt like I couldn’t stop until the last verse. When I got to the last verse, I couldn’t go on. My heart hurt too much to sing.

As we pulled into practice, I told my son to go on in. I would be in shortly.

He went in. I broke down.

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How Did the Holy Family Figure It Out?

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It’s crazy how often we find ourselves praying for one thing and then the words of someone we love or respect smack us right upside the head with the truth about what we need in place of what we thought we wanted. This past Sunday, I entered church in a very snippy mood. My children had aggravated me to the point I was not feeling very faithful. I kneeled in the pew and prayed for God to help me handle my little heathens.

It just so happened that this Sunday was the feast of the Holy Family and the readings were about what God asked of Mary and Joseph, how Mary held all the worries and wonders in her heart, and how Jesus grew smart, strong, and full of grace. Our priest Father Tony is one of the most relatable pastors we could ever ask for. He started his homily by speaking on how happy it made him to see the way our community always comes together and the work we do to raise our children well. He went on to say that he knew not all families were made the same. He mentioned the “nuclear” families, the blended families, the families made up of grandparents raising grandchildren, foster families, and any variety of “dysfunctional” families possible. He told us of his estranged brother and how it hurt him to think of his brother’s decision to remove himself from their lives.

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