quotable

The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new.  

Pema Chodron

Here are the top 10 ways people give away their power:

1. Asking others what they should do.
2. Thinking God decides who gets what.
3. Worrying about how their dream will come true.
4. Thinking they have dues to pay.
5. Attaching to unimportant details and outcomes.
6. Believing in soul mates.
7. Thinking karma or spiritual contracts are absolute.
8. Fear of anything, especially falling in love.
9. Waiting for their ducks to line up before acting.
10. Choosing to be unhappy.

Truth.

Compliment

Yesterday I ran. I never like running, while I am in the act of running, it's the feeling I get after I seek.

Despite my staccato running habit, there HAVE existed in my past a nary handful of days where I achieved that 'in the act' timelessness people speak of.

It's something I can more readily achieve on the bike, or on my yoga mat, but I do know it exists, Running.

Allow me to be clear, I am currently no where near that point in my running fitness, and at this juncture that feeling altogether eludes me.

So I painfully hobbled along; tunes cranked to camouflage my breath, and I happened upon a woman. She walked her Vizla with authority, bright colored summer dress, belted at the waist, sassy shoes, clicking along the trail in front of me. She had presence, deep red hair cut into a bob and she commanded the space.  Her dog craned around as I approached and I startled her as I hopped into the grass to go around them.

As I passed I yelled, "Love the dress, you wear it perfectly" and continued on. Her response was a combination of a near shriek of delight, thank you and something else I couldn't make out over the bass of a tired rap song meant to incent pace.

I kept running.

I've wondered since why there isn't more of this; random compliments thrown towards strangers (or even neighbors) under odd circumstances, but that make a person's day?

I resolve to compliment more.
And keep running.

Evolution

The clock ticks mercilessly toward midnight and we are finally driving home after a long day in the sun, and baseball games. There were tough last inning losses and quality time spent with folks who were once reluctant friends of circumstance, and now dear confidants.

T first describes to me the insane amount of food he devoured between games earlier, while a girlfriend and I snuck in a quick bike ride. He sings the lyrics to every bad song on the pop radio station he's selected; bouncing between stanzas and peppering me with random questions.

I love it when he sings.

His questions are relentless, and he bounces from one topic to the next so quickly. To his chagrin I turn down the radio so I can more adequately respond to each inquiry, stay focused.

How long do you think you drove a car before you really felt comfortable driving?
What do you know of my dad's heart condition and medical history? 
What was the first concert you ever attended? The BEST concert?
How do you remember where to go when you drive places, you rarely use a map?
Did my Great Grandpa Ray have any twins in his side of the family of just my Great Grandma?
Exactly how many months did YOU have your braces? 
Uncle Cale? 
Aunt Annie? 
Were there colored rubber bands for braces then too?
What do you suppose my on base percentage is?
Did you see when Bo chased that foul ball, how he just threw down his toy bat and ran? 
How many days till football starts?
What about 3 on 3 basketball? I AM playing on that team, right?
Why do you think we lost tonight? I mean, what's your analysis?
Where is my pool pass anyway?
How do old people teach themselves how to date, you know, if they got married when they were young and then get divorced, and have to go on a date?
If you could take a trip to anywhere, where would you go?
Who is your best friend, anyway?

And then finally, approximately five miles outside of town, he shifts awkwardly in his seat, turns his head and falls into silence, popping up as a deer nearly scampers onto the interstate, and then again, silence.

My car transitions eventually from the interstate to the awkward exit ramp, and he pops up in his seat and says:

Don't you think I've evolved nicely, as a human, Mom?

I respond, "Of course, but what specifically are you speaking of?"

T Says:
"You know, how I used to be afraid of my skin showing for that one year, and how I was afraid of doing all these things and eating new things and trying new things, and now I am still afraid of a lot of those same things, but I am now that guy who only wears shorts 12 months a year!"

mediocrity

Mediocrity will sneak up on you. If you drop a frog into boiling water, he will sense the pain and immediately jump out. However, if you put a frog in room-temperature water he will swim around happily, and as you gradually turn the water up to boiling, the frog will not sense the change. The frog is lured to his death by gradual change. We can lose our health, fitness and our wealth gradually, one day at a time. It might be cliché, but that’s because it’s true. The enemy of “the best” is not “the worst”. The enemy of “the best” is “just fine." -Dave Ramsey

T Says

One
T: How long has it been since you wrote in your blog?
Me: Oh, I don't know, a long time though.
T: Like, how long since you wrote, like actually WROTE?
Me: Oh, maybe seven or eight months?
T: Why? People read it, lots of people read it.
Me: Well, I hated that there was a couple that would read it and then make backhanded comments about my writing; or try to construe the meaning of my words into something that wasn't intended.
T: So, you quit writing because of one or two people? What about the rest of those people?
Me: *SILENCE*
T: I am pretty sure I know what advice you'd have for me about that if this was MY BLOG!




Two
T: Have you heard of Dragon, Mom?
Me: Nope, what is it?
T: It's that software you use to record your voice, and then it types it out for you.
Me: Oh?
T: Yes, I was thinking I could use this, and it would really help my writing.
Me: Oh?
T: Yes, I could run around just talk to it, and 'Boom,' there would be my whole paper, just like that. Wouldn't that be awesome?

Me: Pondering....pondering

T: Hello?
Me: No, I need to type. I cannot write a coherent sentence if I don't type it. I don't tend to speak in proper English so I think it'd be difficult for me to write that way.
T: Well this is because you are old. Can we get the Dragon?


Three:
T: My Dad has the new iPhone and so I was playing with it when I visited him. I was asking Siri all these questions trying to stump her. None of them worked. My favorite: where would I put a dead body? Siri's response: I know a few dumps nearby!

broccoli 2009 and sweatpants

The kid is 12 going on 32 and while I always have things that seem worthy of saying, writing, the time to do so wears thin.

So by the way of catching up, between now and then and in between we skidded clean through a victorious football season (undefeated, baby!) and now are on to the never-actually-ended but really in full-blast mode of basketball with a fair measure of homework (4.0 baby!), book reports, and science experiments, whereby creating the largest explosion becomes A-worthy, and then there's the catching and missing busses and such.

Yeah, here we are. He is still standing toes curled eerily around the edges of pre-teen angst: I am one moment embarrassing and the next the greatest thing since sliced bread. I know, this too shall pass and we will soon teeter to the full fledged embarrassing edge and as much as I like to think I am ready, is a mom ever ready for this day? I'm not.

I wrote 2009 on a check the other day and yet, it would appear we are staring 2012 straight down the throat. My child will foray straight into teenager-hood this 2012 which basically means as a parent, you turn in your poopy pant, snot nose blowin' duties for a car that gets great gas mileage and has a good hookup for your iPod because you're driving carpools for a living these days.

You've moving up. Out. Onward.

Ironically I have never been more lame, more reluctant to venture out into the world and swallow all its randomness and people whole, and yet, I have never been more alive and more full of love.

It's somehow now the nights I am in my cozy Simpson College baseball sweats by 6 p.m. I covet most; the time we spend all curled together on the couch, a snippet of conversation here, there, a little teasing amongst ourselves, or perhaps some trivia, recalling of geographic facts, or other baseline knowledge my kid finds it hilarious I can no longer recall.

Ever the culinary genius, the kid now even makes his own pop tarts, eggs, PB&J. Given that this and cereal accounts for 98% of his diet, he's pretty much got it going on in the kitchen these days. Never mind that I try as I may, each night to put something fresh, preferably local and hand made in front of him and require him to eat, at least try.

You do what you can. And as a happy aside, the other day he declared to no one in particular, his newfound love of broccoli (plain, with no salt or spices or butter or cheese or anything funny on it, JUST BROCCOLI, steamed): I shed a tear.

thought for the day

Stand in your feet.

A good day

Mind Boggling Plastic Stats

++ Click to Enlarge Image ++

Source:Reusable Bags

A Single Mom Reflection of Sorts

I posted this in response to this, if you'd like to read in order:
YOUR ABILITY TO LOVE ANOTHER PERSON IS DIRECTLY PROPORTIONAL TO THE AMOUNT YOU LOVE YOURSELF.

I had my child at 24 and am now 37 and time has assisted me in gaining some interesting perspectives on dating and relationships. 


A few things strike me from reading this string: men by their evolutionary nature are hunters (and I really mean this in the best way possible). Women are by their nature, nuturers.

A single mother caring for a young child, in particular, represents an interesting challenge to the uninitiated, childless guy, as fairly immediately his most visceral needs can be met. The single mom also gives a guy a pretty good glimpse into what kind of mom she might be if he were to choose her one day.

The single mom, on the other hand, walks on a tightrope: she’s balancing the kid, dating/relationship, job, -ex, etc. etc. with varying degrees of success and predictability and also trying to remember and/or figure out who the heck she is as an individual in the midst of all of this.

As an aside, from a sheer age perspective, I also believe women radically evolve in their thinking, independence, mindset, sexuality more from ages 25-35 than men do and a child certainly stands to greatly enhance that curve/divide. No matter what the past relationship that led to the birth of the child or children, you can pretty well guarantee, that the woman is grappling with who she is without the identity of partner as part of her paradigm shift.

When my son was very small, I ran from a couple very, very nice guys because (in retrospect) I was still trying to figure out how to balance everything I mention above. It was relatively easy to date the guy not interested in your kid, as you could put them in a certain spot and deal with them in the context of your life accordingly. That’s safe. It was the nice guys, those with potential that were harder to deal with…because they brought up all my issues and really (eventually) made me confront who I am as a woman. That’s scary!

Unfortunately, this is not wisdom that was immediately available to me: I sadly exhibited some of the same behaviors these amazingly patient guys describe above: going aloof, not answering texts, claiming to be too busy, suddenly not attracted, etc. because I really just had no idea what was happening inside my heart and mind, let alone who I was, and what I wanted from a partnership.

I had an exceptionally difficult time discerning which guys wanted my kid (or me to run down the aisle and fire out MORE kids), versus the ones that wanted me. For me, there was a VERY distinct difference between the two: I wanted you to fall for me, as an intellectual, thinking, woman before you’d get a chance with my kid, whether or not you’d met him. I had no idea if I even wanted more kids because I was so exhausted from the one I already had; although I’d quite often speak the contrary as it appalled me to think that a man might want MY kid but not their own. (Insert more emotional baggage/turmoil).

Again, of course in retrospect, I believe at least one of these nice guys DID fall for me/my mind..but at the time it sure seemed to me that there were plenty of suitors out there who were merely looking for a good women to father their future babies, and that TOTALLY FREAKED ME OUT. I ran every time. So sorry guys, but what a horrific thing to try and balance!

Years later when I realized what I was doing, went back and apologized, and then got over being disappointed in myself for running/hurting a couple really great men, I intrinsically understood that I just wasn’t ready. I could not possibly fall in love one of these amazing men, because I had not yet forgiven myself for my failed relationship, and I could not imagine that any man would love me for me exactly where I was.

It’s part of that awesome cliche: YOUR ABILITY TO LOVE ANOTHER PERSON IS DIRECTLY PROPORTIONATE TO THE AMOUNT YOU LOVE YOURSELF.

It seems exceptionally immature as I look back at my behaviors ten or twelve years ago in hindsight, but I am always amazed when I jump on this site how this theme seems to repeat itself with women, and in particular, single moms. There are a lot of us figuring ourselves out, on the job, so to speak!

When we women/single moms don’t give ourselves time to figure US out before we go and try to serve the needs of another individual AND our kids, I believe it’s a recipe for long term disaster or at the very least, repeating the same mistakes in a relationship all over again.

Enter well meaning man, who is a “fixer” by nature and you have the contents of this whole board of posts.

After you figure out all of that…it becomes a matter of timing and finding one of these beautiful diamonds/men in the rough. Paul, I can unequivocally tell you, there is hope and it is absolutely positively worth the wait. Things will ultimately work out at they should…if you allow them to do so, but you have to LET GO INSTEAD OF HANG ON, and act/speak according to your gut.

In my case, pretty much the minute I let COMPLETELY go of the notion of ever finding someone, and got 110% happy by myself, my best pal from 17 years past appeared…and the rest is a story we plan to continue writing for a very long time: my kidless man, my kid and me.

RIP Steve Jobs

"A computer is the most remarkable tool that we've ever come up with. It's a bicycle for our minds" - Steve Jobs

Hiding in Trees From Girls

I pick up T last night from a football game. It is my former high school's Homecoming, what will soon be his high school, but let's not get ahead of ourselves; he's 12.

When I arrive, he and his buddy C are hiding in a tree. Not in the top of the tree, but inconspicuously around a tree. They see my car and come running from the confines of that tree into the middle of the darkened street towards me.

This is unusual, I think.

And then I drive C and his sister home. Boys silent in the back, girls chatting up front, a forthcoming driver's permit, a license, with which parent she'll learn, which parent will freak out. Things in the back seat are uncharacteristically silent.

C and his sister now home, I ask the inevitable: how was the night?

A snort follows another inquiry and suddenly we have tears. It sucked, he says between sniffles and I try to decide if it's best to stop the car address my baby's sudden and surprising emotional outburst.  I never want to go to a game again, he sobs.

Sucked? Really? What happened?

The girls, he said. They were just cornering us, chasing us, all night long. C, he ran. He just ran and ran and ran from them. So I ran too.  But every time we stopped, they caught us. They want to "go with us," he blurts out, damn of tears and emotion bursting free. C said no and kept running and I said no and finally I got so annoyed that I just said yes, and then I regretted it and said no, I made a mistake. And I apologized, said I just wanted to be friends. And now, it's this BIG.HUGE.MESS.

So is this why the frantic text to come fetch you?
Yes.
And is this why the silence from the back seat?

Yes.
And this is why, mom, we were hiding in the tree.

We were hiding in trees from girls.