Good Questions

My oldest son is in the questioning phase. He questions everything. Who, what, when, where, why how. All day long. Over and over. While I do love his inquisitive nature, it does tend to wear a person down.
Lately everything he learned in school turns into a web quest when he gets home. Most recently we have been researching Andy Warhol because he learned about him in art class.
"Is Andy Warhol dead?"  Answer: Yes
"When did Andy Warhol die?"  Answer: 1987
"How old was Andy Warhol when he died?"  Answer 58
"How old was Andy Warhol when mamaw was born?" Answer: 24

And George Washington. How old was George Washington when he died? Who were George Washington's parents? Why was he president?

And he's obsessed with my friend's teenaged son.  Is Mitchell a young adult or an adult? Does he still live with his parents? Is he going to be taller than his dad? Am I going to be taller than you? How much did Mitchell weigh when he was born? How much did I weigh when I was born? Am I going to be taller than Mitchell?

 I do my best to answer all the questions truthfully, to research what I don't know, or just tell him that some things are unknowable, like when his grandparents are going to die and why.  Sometimes I keep my cool, sometimes I lose it, sometimes I just ask him to tell me what I told him the last time he asked me the very same question. It never ends, really. It's what kids do, and I try to encourage questioning even when it makes me crazy.

But I credit one of his crazy questioning obsessions with saving my marriage. Well, I shouldn't say saving, since my marriage has never been in real danger, but it has definitely had a noticeable effect on our marriage. Lately my son wants to know all about the story of 'us', the story of his father and me.

"When did you meet my dad?"
"Where did you meet my dad?"
"Why do you love my dad?"
"Do you think my dad is handsome?"
"Why did you pick my dad?"
"Why did you and dad have me?"
And on and on and on...

And I answer every question, every time he asks, over and over. And because of this I get to fall in love with my husband over and over again, every day, and it's magical.

Raising a family is hard work. "Happily ever after" doesn't just happen, it's hard, and there are days I just want to quit and run screaming for the hills. Juggling kids and work, paying bills, scratchin' and survivin'...

(I used to love that show, but I digress...)

Raising a family is not easy even in the best of circumstances, but it helps to be reminded on the daily of why the family exists in the first place.

So, to my son... When did I meet your dad? When I had given up all hope of ever finding love and resigned myself to spinsterhood.
Do I think your dad is handsome? Oh, yes! Yes I do! And I love it that you look just like him.
Why did I pick your dad?  Because he used the word denouement in a sentence correctly.  (Those who know me and my Lemony Snicket obsession will understand this.  It was like a neon sign from God that I was to take this man home and love him.)
Why do I love your dad?  Because he is the kindest, most thoughtful person I know. He is always thinking of others, he genuinely loves people, and he makes me laugh every day.
Why did we decide to have you? Because we are silly and impulsive, and we thought it would be fun. And we were right!

I honestly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

If you don't happen to have an inquisitive child handy to remind you of all the wonderful qualities your significant other possesses, I suggest just going there yourself. Focus on the qualities that drew you to that person in the first place. Fall in love with them all over again. Stoke the fire, as they say.

So to my husband, I love you and our 'good times'. Ain't we lucky we got 'em...

To a Snail

Can you see me, tiny snail?
Or am I a shadow?
An eclipse?
A passing breeze?
A giant, thunderous earthquake?

Or do I even exist at all
in the universe of one so small?

~Amy Porterfield

I met this little guy on my walk yesterday. I would have picked him up and moved him to the grass where he was headed, but he was yucky and I was in a hurry, so I just snapped his picture and moved on.

Getting Fit with Earthworms

I recently began an early morning walking routine. Up every morning at the crack of dawn, tennis shoes on, earbuds in, walking, walking, walking.  This has become my favorite time of the day. The solitude, the calm before the kids wake up, the fresh morning air... I love it.  My route is always the same. I have a 2.5 mile loop mapped out from my house, up the street, around the corner and back.  The view doesn't change, really. I do enjoy the stretch of sidewalk beside the park, densely wooded with sunlight peeking through the trees. I like to smell the dirt and the cool, damp air. I would brave the trails through the forest, but one time one of my neighbors told me he saw bear scat back there and even though he was probably full of shit, I don't play with bears. So I stick to the sidewalk.

While the sidewalk is happily bear-free, walking here can be very monotonous. Verging on boring, really, so I do little things to occupy my mind. I like to write haiku, so I'll make up little verses about the things I see. For example,

Black widow spider
finish spinning your egg sac
I will walk away











or this one


turtle head peeping
come out of your shell for me
let me see your face

But mostly what I see are dried up crusty earthworms.

June was an exceptionally rainy month, and many earthworms were washed up onto the sidewalk to die, their bodies littering the path. I see them every day, and after a while I became sort of fixated on them. I think the weird combination of tramping on earthworm remains and reading a bunch of Shel Silverstein books with my kids is what inspired this piece.

Earthworms
by Amy Porterfield  :)

It's always the same
each time that it rains
the sidewalks are littered
with earthworm remains.

The life of an earthworm
is simple at best,
munching the soil
never stopping to rest.

But often it happens
when the rain comes down,
the worms come up
fearing they'll drown.

Wriggling to the sidewalk
to catch their breath
completely unaware
of their looming death.

But here comes the sun,
ready or not!
Sighs weary Earthworm,
"My, but it's hot!"

This photo has nothing to do with the story.

Either does this one.

How a Pool Noodle Changed My Life

First of all let me preface this by saying I've never been a particularly religious person. My faith is  sort of an odd patchwork of ideas I've picked up in various churches, passages I've read in books, lessons I've learned from people I've met, and maybe there are a few ideas of my own thrown in there, too. It's quite possible I'm going to hell in a hand basket, but I don't know.  I just like to think of myself as a weird little soul just fumbling around through this life trying to learn and grow through experience. So there's that, for whatever it's worth.

That being said, I do like to acknowledge when God, the Universe, or whatever IT is reveals something to me, and I take these lessons very seriously.

This is a story about a pool noodle. A pool noodle very much like this one, but not this one.

I had taken the boys to the pool that day, and the oldest, having no further use for his noodle, left it to float away freely. No big deal, there weren't many families there, and it was only a noodle after all. When we had finished swimming, I gathered up my boys and our belongings and headed for the playground to play in the sun and dry off a bit before getting into the car.  That's when I saw another child playing with our free roaming noodle.

"No big deal," I thought to myself. "He can play with it until we are ready to leave."
Then I gave myself a mental pat on the back for being so decent and sharing my noodle.

All was right with the world until, out of the corner of my eye, I spied the boy taking my noodle and putting it in the chair next to his mother.

OH. NO. YOU. DIDN'T.

I felt my pulse quicken, my chest tighten. I had to investigate further. Surely this kid was not thinking of taking my noodle. I did a quick stroll around the pool just to be sure there were no other rogue noodles before I marched up to his mother to (very politely) demand my property back.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Is that your noodle?"

"Yeah, we just picked it up at the Dollar General on the way here."

"Oh, OK, because we have one that looks just like it and it's missing."

"Sorry."

That was the confrontation. I'm not one to start fights at swimming pools over toys that cost a dollar, but I was angry. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I became.  Not only did these people steal from me, they lied about it. So the whole time my kids were playing, I'm staring at this woman sunbathing next to my noodle, and my anger is growing into rage and taking on a life of its own. Inside my brain is a viciousness, a steady churn of hateful thoughts. "You're a lying liar and a thief, and you're teaching your kids to be dirty lying thieves, too!"

I had to explain to my kids that our noodle was gone. Of course there was some whining in response, and a chorus of "Why? Why?"
"Because we didn't take care of our things. We need to write our name on our things next time, " was my response. But in my mind was a litany of swear words, all directed at this lying, thieving woman and her lying thieving kids. They are what's wrong with the world today! They are the reason good, decent people can't go to the pool and have a good time without worrying about someone stealing their stuff.
We gathered our snacks and towels and began our noodle-less walk toward the exit.

That's when I saw it.

A little girl popped out of the water, noodle in hand, and made her way to the lifeguard stand. She placed the noodle, MY noodle on the ground next to the lifeguard and jumped back into the water.

I glanced back over at the lying thieving woman and her kids and HER noodle and I immediately felt very small.

I was wrong. I sent my son to go retrieve our property and I stood there, alone in my shame. We left the pool with everything we had come with and went home.

All's well that ends well, right?

Well, not really. Not for me, anyway. I just couldn't get over how angry I had become, and how quick I was to blame this woman, whom I had never met, and how quick I was to hate her. I mean HATE. I hated her. I thought the most horrible things about her and I was so self-righteous and justified in my anger and hatred of this woman. All over a pool toy that costs a dollar.  So much ugliness, all over a cheap, piece of crap pool toy.  It was as if God, the Universe, or whatever IT is held up a mirror in front of me and showed me the mean, bitchy, hateful side of myself that I like to pretend doesn't exist. Oh, it exists, all right!

I was humbled. I was humbled by a noodle.

So from now on I will not be so quick to rush to judgement, so quick to anger,  or so quick to hate.

And thank you for the lesson. I needed it.

Word of the day

Today's word is

Visualization
Is calling
Something
Into being
Out of
Nothing


Well, it's the first step, anyway.
That's where I am today. Where do I want to be in a month? Six months? A year?
How will I get there?
What does success look like?
Visualization will help me see where I'm going and how to get there.

Visualization looks like sitting on the back porch with a glass of wine.
I'm very good at visualizing.
I want to be a visionary.

Happy Father's Day!

I wrote this a few years ago for my dear old dad on Father's Day.

To the one who grew me from a seed,
met my every want and need,
whose hand was always firm but fair,
who disciplined with love and care,
to the one who taught me how to fish
here for you my dearest wish...

May my life be a tribute to
all the things I learned from you.
Living as your legacy
here for all the world to see.

To the greatest man I've ever known
From the luckiest seed to ever be sown.


(or something like that. I tend to not write things down and forget them and then they are different every time I share them. But I thought this one was Hallmark worthy.)

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

To 2014... and beyond!

If you know me, you know that I am OCD about haiku.

counting syllables
five, then seven, then five more
I can't help myself

What you may not know, is that I'm the same way about acrostics.


Always trying to
Come up with words worth
Reading up, down and
Over
So I can
Tell my feelings about
Ideas in a
Clever way.
See?

It's what I do.  It helps me wrap my mind around an idea. Anyway, I came across some acrostics I wrote several years ago when I was going through a trying time, and they seemed relevant today. So here are some thoughts for the new year, 2014.

Moving forward
Only limited by
My thoughts
Ever changing
Never still
Tireless in my efforts
Unencumbered by
My past

(I thought about changing the last two lines to Until I reach My goal, but that's not how it was written originally, so I didn't)

On Discipline:

Distractions are
Inevitable but
Stay the
Course
It may be
Painful, but in the
Long run
It will pay off
Never fail to meet your
Expectations of yourself.


On Choices:

Choices we make can
Help or hurt
Ourselves and others
It would be wise to
Consider
Every outcome before
Selecting

On Courage:

Carrying
On,
Understanding that
Real bravery means
Always
Going forward
Even when you're afraid

And this one, for my broken hearted single friends,
On Solitude

Spending time
Occasionally in
Lonely
Isolation can be
Therapeutic.
Understanding hurt
Does not come
Easy


Well, there you are, friends.  Here's to a healthy, prosperous new year! Happy 2014!!