Tenants, landlords, farmers, and parents

I love my pastor's homilies. He shoots from the hip and minces no words. His message came from today's Gospel reading that as parents we are the tenants who must produce good fruit (Matthew 21:33-43). He commented that the kids are wanting to serve, but parents are preventing it. "Parents, they can not drive." He commented that when we fail to tend our gardens properly, they yield bitter fruit. Likewise, when we fail to teach kids the things they need to learn, our own children also become bitter fruit (aka brats). Sometimes, weeds overtake the garden and our kids choose their own path that we wouldn't have chosen for them.

Twice last week, it was suggested to me to use the cry room on both Saturday at the vigil Mass, and then Wednesday when I went to Mass because I was seeking some time of peace on a difficult day. The message was not received well, and I physically bit my tongue to avoid making more problems for myself. I was angry, hurt, frustrated, and felt unwelcome in my own home. So, today, I brought it to my pastor's attention after church, wishing I could have caught up to him before Mass because this would have been related to his homily today.

I feel like a bit of a tattle tale, but honestly, the pastor needed to know this was happening. If the two individuals said it to me when my family has served as liturgical ministers, they were going to say it to others. The first is unfamiliar with my family since it was a different Mass than we normally attend. He was polite and I want to believe he was well-intended, but the second being familiar with us may not have been. They are also older, from the generation that was raised to be seen and not heard. There is a time and place for children to be seen only, but it's a short list.

As I suspected, the pastor did not disagree with me. He even said "how else will they learn?" My kids get louder, more disruptive, and more distracted by the other unchecked kids running around in the cry room. Plus it has a tile floor, making the noise reverberate. No thank you, my kids have my permission fidget all they need to, so long as they're quiet and not getting overly disruptive to the prayers of those around them. I will not be taking them to the noisy room, but instead, will continue to remind them to be respectful of those around them, be quiet in the presence of God in church, and set the example for other parents in teaching their children. If I have to take them out of church, there are consequences for junior, and then - this is key - WE GO BACK IN THERE.

This goes back to my beliefs as a parent that we are raising our children in preparation for the adult world. When my kids are somewhere with me, they must behave appropriately even when they are bored, don't want to be there, or don't like the place. There is also time and place for children's fear to be addressed, but in this instance, my youngest 3 kids have been coming to Mass with me since birth after I learned the hard lesson with the oldest 2 with regards to church. It's not an unfamiliar or unsafe place that would merit a freak-out from my neurotypical children. After what feels like a million years, the kids start figuring out how to participate in the Mass, how their actions impact others, how to adapt to their surroundings, and how to deal with things they may not like.

Perhaps my kids being difficult is divine intervention to get that person behind us to get out of their own heads for a minute and pray for peace to come to the frustrated mother who can't seem to get the pre-Kindergartener to stop doing obnoxious things in an attempt to get mom's goad, or the baby who's figured out his voice carries very well given the acoustical design of the sanctuary to not be quite so loud till he's back outdoors, or for the older sister who is being annoyed by the pre-Kindergartener because button-pushing is a favorite activity. Perhaps, the bouncing kids are supposed to be a reminder to the estranged grandparents that it's time to reach out again to their child in an attempt to mend the fence. What ever the reason behind the lessons presented, they are being presented because that annoyance is supposed to teach something. Instead of clucking or ostracizing, pause a minute, and listen to God's whisper, and find out what message you are supposed to be receiving.

I am keenly aware my kids are disturbing the peace. I live with them. Peace comes about midnight when they're all drooling on the pillow, and even then there is no guarantee it will remain till sunrise. As a mother of an interfaith marriage who wrangles her children at church solo, I want nothing more than my children to be quiet and not disrupt your time at Mass. Because when they do that for you, they also avail it to me. And by the time my nest is empty, someone near me will have a full one, and the shoe will be on the other foot. I hope I can remember the challenge, and offer prayers for peace for them, and not cluck at them.

Purpose has a point

In the recent days the word "purpose" has come up in conversation at my house on a few occasions.

Devildog and I were talking about being intentional, or doing things with a purpose, or doing things purposefully. That one stemmed from a conversation to iron out some wrinkles in a situation. We get lost in our electronics and fail to truly be attentive to things in a manner that we should be. I catch myself numerous times a day moving without purpose, or as the case may be NOT moving at all.
That's not to say we should be in constant motion, but when moving about things, it shouldn't be aimless or haphazard. (I'm guilty of any version of it all) I'm the type that needs balance or I am completely out of sorts.

So here I sit with a list of things on my to-do list, typing on my computer instead of getting off my duff and doing them. I'm enjoying the quiet of half my house sleeping as the dishwasher runs (I'd love a quieter model at some point), drinking my coffee, and sitting on the couch with Clone's Camp Crestridge blanket over me. 

That list will keep me focused later when I get up and start doing something around here. For now, I'm letting my exhausted husband sleep. Rest heals the body, and he's got a few tweaks that need healing. He ran the trail at the park the other day in 22 minutes. He hasn't run since 2005, and had to walk at times too. He's got a PFT (physical fitness test) to take soon as part of a hiring process, and he really wants this job. It's in the line of work he has dreamed of doing. I can tell you first hand that when my husband feels like he has purpose his whole demeanor and energy changes. He could be a walking zombie, but press onward because he knows he's not undervalued, a worthless drone in someone's machine. He has been sliding backwards toward the lethargic side the last many months, because his current job has sucked the life out of him from day one. His first day, he came home and said that it was the wrong place for him to be and that he didn't foresee a long career there. It's a Sisyphus situation where he is. And he loathes being Sisyphus. It doesn't meld at all with his value system, the way he was trained to operate, or his personality. It would if the leadership actually led. Devildog is a natural born leader, and fortunately, was trained to lead in such a way that subordinates want to work for him. At Home Despot, he would get moved to a different department, and no less than 15 people would ask the store manager if they can transfer to where ever he was going. He could've been in charge of shoveling poop, and people would have still wanted to work for him. Knowing he was valued and served a purpose, he busted his chops to do the job well. I look forward to Devildog finding a job that gives him purpose, because it will prompt other changes at home in general.

In turn, the purpose of our household as a whole will shift.

More affirmation

In all the whining I've been doing lately, I got a couple clue-by-four swacks to the skull. And then I got knocked down about a thousand pegs last week when a few people in my life lost a friend to suicide. Sadly, I didn't know him, but I had met him and he seemed like a good guy. Hearing about those involved, and the lot they were handed in life, certainly makes mine and the challenges I've had from childhood to now, look like a freaking cake walk. Then 2 friends ended up in the hospital (same building actually).

I mean, if the worst of my day is wondering how the hell I'm going to cover my bills, then I have really no true reason to whine.

Then, the other day, I forgot my electronic leash at home, and didn't have a yarny project in the mom-bus either. I had a magazine in my midst  though, and enjoyed the quiet while waiting for my son to come out of JROTC drill practice, as the Blur slept, and the cool breeze wafted through my opened windows. If I'd had a folding camp chair in the back like I have done before, I would have sat outside in front of my van to read.

I picked up where I'd previously left off in the magazine, and as I turned the pages, found this blurb about connecting with people. And it just made sense. I do this stuff too, and I have often thought rather defiantly "dagblastit, I shouldn't be chasing people down to stay connected with them like I am." I have tried to keep in touch with friends, and tried to reconnect with those I feel are important in my life, but it isn't always reciprocal. If I am to continue the friendship though, I do need to step back and leave the ball on their half of the court for a bit to see how they play it.

This topic came up while I was talking to another mom friend at church yesterday and she shared some of the same challenges I'd been having. I read the blurb to her, and she nodded, saying it made sense. She and I both share some of the same opinions about certain groups of people around us, and how their behavior reflects poorly on them and their associated places. I often wonder if I should even bother swimming upstream to try to get anyone to pay attention to their own behavior, or if they'll even care that I'm trying to get their attention at all.

Or maybe I should just do as the story in the article suggests, and leave others to discover how awesome I am, and how being associated with me could be mutually beneficial (or even just beneficial for one party only). I'm going to give this other approach a try, and see what comes of it. After all, if I'm not spinning my wheels over people who can't hear the noise of my tires, then there's no noise to hear over other noise and it's just quieter that way. And Lord knows, I have enough mental clutter as it is. So, if I can dislodge some of it, then maybe I'll have fewer A.D.D. brain moments because I'm not caught up in trivialities of other people.

The wheels on the baggage go round and round

I noticed a friend who has lived in my computer for many years deactivated her crackbook page again. She does that periodically because she recognizes what the vortex does to her life and that she needs to step away from it. I applaud her for that, because she has ovarian fortitude that I lack in that regard. Slowly though, I am actually nearing that point myself. I'm still stewing over my losses, and haven't given a whole lot of effort to the attempt at amends. I'm still deciding if I even want to, or actually should do it. I know I should, at least to apologize for leaving certain people high and dry from my end of the fence. They may not see it that way, and just see it as their own evolution that left me in their dust. I won't know till I take that step though. I'm still working up my nerve to do it, just like I'm still working up the nerve to get back on the motorcycle. It will happen, I just don't know when my cajones will appear and make it happen.

In any case, I was talking to L on the phone since she isn't online at this point, and we shared our burdens with each other, looking at the blessings and silver linings of each situation. Interestingly enough, there were parallel threads with us both. I'd experienced my own version of her disappointment, and likewise, she'd had her own version of the one I am experiencing. She said even though her mind has reasoned that she needed to cut ties with people, she still feels IMMENSE guilt for doing so. We talked of forgiving others, and ourselves. We've always heard that we should forgive those who have done wrong by us. And for many folks, forgiving equals letting those offenders back into your picture. Forgiving, in fact, does NOT mean we have to allow them back. It just means we don't let the hurt they caused to remain as a weight on our own shoulders. Reconciling is a completely different bird, that has feathers of forgiveness in its plumage. Forgiving just means you don't have to lug around that heavy baggage of resentment, guilt and revenge.

L is also Catholic, with an excellent Southern Protestant upbringing full of Biblical Scriptures. She's got excellent timing with the verses she shares with me. This recent conversation bore "My yoke is easy and  my burden is light" to which I remarked "yea, cuz I put wheels on my baggage." That imagery sent her into a bit of a giggle. Leave it to me to not let things stay heavy too long. Levity is one of my many coping mechanisms. Lately though, I'm not as light-hearted, snarky, sarcastic, amusing, interesting, humorous,  - the usual Feisty stuff. I'm feeling weighed down with mental and emotional clutter. And it's causing difficulty pretty much everywhere. Rather than chucking the burdens, I put wheels on them and schlepped them EVERYwhere with me. All I'm doing is wearing out my shoes, my shoulders, my heart and mind. The whole problem is getting to be pervasive, and that is really annoying. I liken it to dragging a suitcase along on a plane, along with a bunch of other loose odds and ends that won't stay in another bag, and keep falling out of it. If I'd checked that suitcase, I could have less difficulty handling whatever was spilling out of that other bag. Nope, instead I put wheels on it, compounding my own challenge, and the trip becomes a chore, instead of an enjoyable journey.

What baggage have you put wheels on, and schlepped along behind you? How much of it should you have just jettisoned, restructured, or framed differently?

Life, and how you live it

Today, I was scheduled to read at Mass. No big deal, it's old hat by now for me. But somehow, in rushing around to get out the door (forgetting to bring my electronic leash), I ended up with some kind of unprovoked anxiety, complete with elevated heart rate and shallow breathing. I was having the worst time centering myself and clearing my mental clutter. I was pleasantly surprised to see our pastor Monsignor H celebrating Mass today, versus our usual, the associate pastor, Father L. Whoever schedules the priests really needs to consider a rotating schedule, and not hogging Msgr H to whatever Mass that person attends. We love Father L, but Msgr H has some awesome homilies that we don't get to hear as often. Seeing Msgr H in the vestibule, I stopped to greet him and share my delight in seeing him in vestments instead of just his collar. He always has a thought provoking question when we encounter each other. I love how his mind works to make me think about things I wouldn't normally.
Today, he asked "Do you think it's a fair question to ask what people's mindsets are walking into the doors of the church, and what they are as they leave?"
I said "Absolutely, it's a fair question. I know for myself I'm usually rushing to get here on time, and be early when I'm reading, and then sometimes fighting with traffic, and inconsiderate drivers en route. Today was not horrible trying to get out the door on time, but I was a bit rushed because I had to be early. I made great time driving here with no issues. But somehow, I ended up with a bad adrenaline rush that I've had the hardest time clearing away so I can be calm. So I imagine that others are fighting with distractions and diversions and struggling to clear their minds before Mass starts." He shared his thoughts, but wasn't able to finish them, as someone else needed to speak to him. Such is the life of a shepherd.
How awesome was that kind of Divine Intervention in hearing what I needed to hear, and articulating what was going on with me at that exact point in time. I somehow managed to get myself squared away so I could do my job. All the readings talked about living. Today's Gospel reading mentioned the word "life" 9 times. Then Msgr H's homily talked about the readings talking about life, and living it appropriately. He moved on to talk about the NASA Rover Curiosity, and how it will explore unknown places. He asked us to imagine a rover exploring our parish, and how it could be determined that the parish was alive. He asked us to imagine a rover exploring our hearts, and determining if we were living our lives appropriately.
I'm certainly guilty of letting the diversions get more of my attention than they deserve. Right now, I'm supposed to be matching up my coupons to the sales this week so I can restock the house with groceries. We're nearing "Mother Hubbard's Cupboards". But I had to get this out of my brain before I got too diverted and lost it, because I really felt like I needed to share it. I am prone to being easily distracted and my focus gets placed somewhere other than where it's most needed. I prefer to blame my ADD brain, which is only partially accurate. I still am responsible for what I do, and what I fail to do, regardless of how my brain is wired. Today's conversation with Msgr H gave me food for thought, and the homily drove home the point. With school starting, I really do need to make wiser use of my time, and allow fewer diversions to detour my day as much as I have allowed them to do up to this point. I could be so much more productive and have fewer "aw, crap" moments in my life.

How about you? What kind of diversions detour you from what you should be doing? What else can you accomplish if you set aside any number of diversions in your day?

Progress of my peace

I'm slowly making peace with my defiant friend's slow exit. I still suck as a friend, and I'll always regret that. My friend isn't on the imminent deathbed with the "last call". But when you feel your body betraying you, and nothing's working right, and you're always feeling like crap, and a good day is just a LESS crappy day, you generally prefer to warn people that your body isn't Tupperware with a nifty replacement guarantee when it breaks. And when people like me get those kinds of warnings after such a plucky individual defies every odd and prediction with gusto for DECADES, I take those warnings very seriously. My kneejerk reactions are often TOO serious, and I end up making things worse. But I am wired to just blow off what ever initial reaction comes to me and move forward. I hope I got the better part of the emotional ugly out of the way the other day. I have been spared the pain of losing a lot of people around me in my life. My husband has not, so his reactions to death are vastly different from mine. I didn't know this detail about him till the other day when I shared with him that my emotional guts were all tangled and I was useless most of that day. Even 20 years together with my husband, and I am still discovering little tidbits about him. Meanwhile, I'm generally an open book most times. So I just brain dump somewhere - a friend, here on the blog, over on Crackbook, who ever is willing to put up with my blathering for a while. I do better once I've gotten whatever it is off my mind and heart and get that kind of roadblock out of my way. Then I plug the cracks and leaks, and I pick up and keep going. Life doesn't stop just because I'm having an emotional or mental explosion. I don't have the wherewithal to just stop and crawl in a hole. That just makes me crazier. When I get certain kinds of energy, I just have to expend it somehow. It's not always pretty either. The other day was just plain ugly. I imagine there will be other unpleasant moments as I move along this part of my journey. I can't *always* be sunshine, rainbows and fairy farts. But I can be honest about what's on my mind, in my heart and go back and apologize when I've gone overboard.
I do have regrets, but that's a short list by comparison to those things that I count as blessings. I have so many that I can't even begin to name them all. I'm grateful for all of them, and don't think I'll ever repay them, or even pay them all forward. But I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for other people in my life.

Also, 19 years ago at an UNGODLY hour of the morning, after an overnight labor with a young, albeit awesome labor coach who has stuck around all this time, a mini human emerged. So, to my oldest, Happy Birthday! You're becoming quite an amazing person, and I am so glad all those lectures about work ethic and common sense sunk in after all.
And to myself : Happy BirthING Day.

Must Make Peace

I'm having the worst challenge making peace with losing my friend, and trying to achieve it before she leaves this earth. She told me this morning via IM that she feels like things are shutting down, and she's not lucid, she's hallucinating and trying to fight a high fever. I'm in tears as I type this, because I haven't fully made peace with this impending loss. But I either need to hurry up about it or it's just going to compound things for me when she does leave and die. I always have difficulty with death, and she knows this, and she's been trying to help me. Meanwhile other friends around her have been jumping ship and ending things on their terms. I am no hero, and I'm no saint. And I haven't been over to visit. I'm feeling like a horrible friend, but I can't just fall off the face of the earth either. It's just not right. I hate funerals, too. I have been known to avoid them because I just loathe them. I don't want people boohooing over losing me. I'm pretty sure she doesn't either. As a matter of fact, she wants everyone to go to Disney. That's her happy place. And I'm ever-grateful that the year Disney let you in for free on your birthday, that we went together on my birthday without kids (well, except the freshly planted one that was suspected but not confirmed) and had a blast. She jokes that she got me knocked up on the teacups. She always introduces me to people as her friend from high school who married the high school sweet heart, has four kids and is still skinny, and STILL has sex with her husband! (Well, that's what you're *supposed* to do!)
And as I'm standing in my kitchen, with tears and snot filling my face, my 10 year old is making a fruit salad for herself, and singing "yummy yummy, fruit salad!", I think in an attempt to cheer me up a little. I'm creeping and inching towards making peace with my friend's impending demise, but I hate death. I hate being left behind. I hate it for the others even closer to her being left behind. And I look up and see the chainmaille bracelet she made for me that went on her sale table at one point, and remember her saying "I made this for you, and then when we didn't see each other for ages, I figured I'd try to sell it, but it didn't fit anybody. It was too small for EVERY one. You skinny bitch, you have a custom bracelet. Happy Birthday." The bracelet resides on my fridge mostly because it's got a magnetic closure, and I'm prone to losing things. And it's a happy reminder of my friend since 9th grade. So it stays there when I'm not wearing it. And now my 2 year old is telling me "it's ok mama" and wanting up so she can get snuggles. And she just told me I need to blow my nose lol. She's right. There's a LOT of snot in my nose right now. I'm gonna need a big box of heavy duty tissues.

Elusive Solitude

It is 7:10 in the morning, the sun's first rays are crafting themselves behind the trees. As I look out my kitchen window, I see dark tree shadows against a multi-hued sunrise. This is the quietest my house ever is, and even then there is always noise. The refrigerator is humming, and at any random minute the icemaker will drop frozen cubes into its bin with a groan, creak and a crash, then water to refill and repeat. The HVAC unit just stopped. I hear cargo ships a couple miles away on the river. The water heater is doing something. And my husband is snoring. I've joked he snores to the point that the ceiling over our bed is concaved, risking collapse. I've just returned from the high school bus run to take my junior and senior to be collected by some guy they all call Freelove. They hate the bus, because the other kids on it are, to be polite - obnoxious. But it's a given in life that we all have things we disdain and deal with anyway. My Clone is asleep when she should be awake, because she stayed up way too late last night watching tv with Devildog. Blur is, very thankfully, still asleep so Devildog gets to keep snoring a little while longer. And here I sit, when I should be moving about to get the day going. The coffee in my FSU Tervis Tumbler, the appliances going about their business, and the sky behind the trees changing from the pretty colors of sunrise to the ones seen the rest of the day. I have knitting I want to be doing, but that means I'd have to turn on a light and risk waking Blur who sleeps on the couch most nights because we're overly permissive and let this ginger midget run the show more than she should. But like her sister who at that age also slept on the couch and with us for way too long, at least she is asleep. With a toddler, just like during that time affectionately called "baby jail", if that child sleeps ANY where at all, so that parents can sleep, then that child can sleep where ever they cease to fidget. Because when you have children, solitude is ever sought after on a regular basis. When you have 4 who run the gamut of ages and stages, you make a point to seek out any ounce of solace you can when ever you can. And then you get off the computer to go wake that 4th grader who is going to be even crankier the 3rd & 4th time you go in there to wake her because it's now 7:30 and she needs to be ready to walk out the door in 1/10th of the minutes she usually has because she wakes up by 7:00. And you pray her complaints don't wake the toddler, ever thankful she's on the couch so she doesn't pick up her head with that grunt that makes mommy want to curse because you just *know* you better bolster the coffee pot for Devildog because she's not going to go back to sleep.
Ah, there's the icemaker now. And looking around, I better put away the yarn because I know someone will want to "koh-shay" because mommy does too.

Enjoying the silence

hmph, the really eloquent post I had typed got eaten...damn cyberelves.

I sit here, in silence, except for the appliances, my typing, my Howard Miller chiming every 15 minutes and the neighbor's dog barking at God-knows-what that she sees through the fence. Yes, my people are sleeping late. Yes it screws with the circadian rhythms. But my house is a cacophony of noise and activity at any given point. I just want the quiet, and I don't want to have to vacate my premesis to get it. I need my "me" time. I don't do bubble baths, alcohol is reserved for evenings (unless of course it's just *one of those days*), and a girls night out/in just can't be coordinated with everyone I want to be around for a girls anything. One friend is traveling for work, so when she gets home she is going to want to see her husband and kids...not her kid-in-big-girl-pants friend that I am. Plus it is enormously helpful if she is actually I dunno..... AVAILABLE ... to participate. The other one's got a Fat Cranky Buzzard that tries to keep her locked in the tower (I'm convinced that he thinks she has a treasure somewhere and he's hellbent on finding it before she gets to it). Plus she has this side issue of having been hit by a DUMP TRUCK that puts a hamper on some things. She can only do so much for so long. There are others that have too much going on as well. So even if I did declare a gathering to occur...I'd likely be sitting by myself, and probably Persnickety would be there because she found a way to fend off her FCB long enough to run for the door. That and she loves me like that...cuz I'm her token skinny wench. So for now, I enjoy the quiet in my house while I can keep it, because one by one, the noisy people in my house will emerge from their beds refreshed and ready to raise hell in some way or another. And my quiet will once again be a pipe dream for the rest of the day. Now if you'll pardon me, my coffee is getting cold and it certainly does taste much better just a mere couple minutes from being poured, as that is the absolute optimal temperature for pleasurable sipping...in the quiet of course.