Tag: gratitude

Hair…and more

I was listening to Glennon Doyle’s podcast and in one episode they were discussing all things recovery and rules and the parameters we set for ourselves, as well as those set for us by cultural norms and practices.

They discussed wanting to do, or not do a thing, such as dyeing one’s hair, buying a scarf, always wanting the latest thing (whatever that might be), and even just wanting in general – and how those things can tie into consumerism and the impossible standards espoused by the beauty industry. (Men going grey = silver fox, while when women do it, it’s ‘she’s let herself go’ and other such nonsense.) While not all of it resonated, when they got to the topic of going grey vs. continuing to dye hair as an example, I paused and listened intently.

I stopped dying my hair in late 2017 shortly after getting sober. Chopped off all of my hair super short – an outward symbol of inward changes. It’s now been a few years and I still have zero desire to ever head back to the colorist. No judgment to those that love getting highlights, doing dramatic amazing things with color – that’s just not what I am wanting for myself right now.

The salon I go to for trims caters to curlies. They cut hair dry, coil by coil, so each curl clump lays within the next, creating beautiful ringlets and overall amazing shape. And bonus- when cut dry there is little chance of underestimating curl shrinkage! Win!

Products for curlies have come a looong way. Playing with the phone camera post-appointment and seeing the definition made me smile.

Product makes all the difference!

I thought back to my middle and high school days. “Thank goodness for the internet,” I murmured to myself thinking of all the products and techniques tried over the last couple of decades, as well as the days when there were no products. My daughter now benefits from YouTube tutorials and tips on how to take care of her own mane of waves.

One particular ringlet stopped me. And I remembered that podcast discussion of going grey…

Ain’t she a beaut!

I wasn’t always ready for the grey. I used to yank out the single silver strands when one or maybe two would sprout. I liked the definition highlights gave. The grey is coming in more and more, and…I love it. Listening to that podcast solidified my decision to skip sitting in the stylist’s seat for hours. I love the rebellion it represents. The “I don’t care” attitude sliding down it’s rings. The flinging off of convention. The grey swims upstream, against the current of brown surrounding it. “See me?” it boldly asks. The grey is a gift, a symbol of living that not all receive. The experience of the grey demands respect, has earned its confidence, and smiles mischievously.

Ultimately – what one does (or doesn’t) do to their hair is their business. What my overall aim is – is to be mindful of the bigger picture in what my actions teach my kids, and is it authentic? Are they comfortable in their own skin? Do they accept themselves as is, or do they fight against nature? No amount of words speak so loud as my actions. We teach not by preaching, but by modeling. If I embrace who and what I am – that teaches them to celebrate who and what they are.

Sometimes a haircut…is more than just a haircut.

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Time

14 years ago today we welcomed our first child and it feels like 1000 years ago and yesterday all at once. Time is elusive and crafty, bending and warping depending on perspective and hindsight. In just 4 years, my tiny chubby-cheeked baby will be a legal adult. (Seriously?!) My brain sees the little baby, the toddler I taught to throw away his own diapers, the first days of preschool, and then kindergarten. The onslaught of contradictory evidence is shoved in my face daily, (so rude!) with shadowy hairs on his upper lip, a startling ever-deepening voice, and his height. The fact that he has shot up is one of great pride for him. He loves to remind me each week musing, “Hey, we should measure me…,” with a mischievous glint in his eye, waiting for my eye roll.

Advertising his sarcasm loud and proud!

I feel breathtakingly fortunate. Not that life with middle schoolers is a cake walk – because whoa. It’s rough out there, people! When talking with other parents (I’ve seen people do this when talking about their spouse, too), so often it devolves into a vent session about dumb stuff their kids have done, or what irritates them. It’s like a contest of whose spouse/kid is the worst. Feeling out of place in those conversations, I don’t contribute when chat goes in that direction. (Even if I did feel that way about them, why would I publicly complain about them?) I don’t get it. If I met them randomly, I would actually like them. For that, I am grateful.

Pictures of babes wrapped up in baby burritos are fun to look at once in a while, but I am not a person who yearns for early days of parenting. Those long monotonous days were hard, yo. Diapers, dishes, and deployments on repeat were long, not to mention the sleep deprivation. Love the memories, glad to have been present in them, but find like with most phases of the kids’ development, I revel in where they are right now. I dig their personalities, their sarcastic senses of humor, and hearing their perspectives on what’s going on in their lives.

While not pining for some mythical ‘good ole days’, I do find the phrase, “Slow down….just a bit,” whispered more frequently lately, as a prayer to Time that insists on marching forward.

Summertime Sadness

I love back to school time. The fresh loose-leaf paper, the clean binders, and dividers just waiting to be marked with each class subject – all used to excite me far more than the actual act of going back to school.

I loved full and part-time homeschooling the kids. Setting up an area of the house for our work together was fun. Middle school is a different season, as is coming out of covid schooling. Both are liking aspects of their new school, for which I am very grateful. We’ve been fortunate with amazing teachers despite our living and moving all over. At 3 weeks in, we are all settling into new routines and so far – so good. There’s been one issue though….between the late dismissal at the old school, the move/unpacking, and the mid-August return at the new school, it’s left us all feeling a little robbed of a proper long summer where we actually have a chance to get bored.

It’s still 90-100 degrees outside, so even though the calendar says September, the weather is screaming July. Violently. With the heat, none of us has any appetite for pumpkin anything, let alone any sort of fall comfort foods, so baking and cooking has been minimal. Fresh fruit salads, lots of crisp, juicy melons, cool salads – anything that doesn’t require an oven or long times standing over a stove. After this heat wave, I’m looking forward to fall for a bit of relief from this heat and humidity. In this case, relief is spelled, o-c-e-a-n.

Luckily for us, fall and winter will bring cooler temps, but we can always get a taste of summer whenever we need it!

Rejuvenation

“There is magic in the presence of trees,” I mused, inhaling the damp freshness surrounding us. Walking in our rain boots through the lush forest, my daughter happily chatting to her art teacher, I took as many mental images as my senses could hold. I left my phone back in the car when we pulled up (silly me).

This teacher is more than a teacher to Hannah – she’s her FAVORITE. “Mom! Mrs. O’Connor has a real studio!” she exclaimed at the beginning of her first art class last year. “She’s a teacher AND a REAL artist!” We were able to see her work in a local art show last fall and she graciously invited Hannah to come see her studio. To say that Hannah was excited was an understatement.

After the studio tour, Mrs. O’Connor took us all around her lovely space, surrounded by acres of forest land. (Half way through our walk, we stopped and grabbed our cameras!) Having lived here for a few decades, she can imagine living no where else – and it’s clear to see why! It really was a slice of heaven – and a rejuvenating day spent captivated by Mother Nature’s spell.

Teachers: never doubt the impact you have on your students. Read that again: Please do not doubt that you are impacting your students in ways you may never know. (Seriously the last couple of years – whew!) From this mama to one very special art teacher – I thank you especially for taking the time and sharing your gifts. You are a treasure!

Community

Like most people who jumped on the Peloton bandwagon, I LOVE the bike that goes no where. It has helped me maintain fitness through the winters in rainy western Washington, a pandemic and homeschooling! All without leaving my house! With all of the modalities available on one platform (strength, stretching, yoga, shadowboxing, cardio, walking and running outdoors, and even meditation!), it really is like having a full service gym right in the house. The kicker though, is community. Having people that are in it with you – that’s what sets any fitness program (and life!) ahead of the rest!

Every time I hop on the bike and click into a ride, there are always other riders on the leaderboard. We high-five, (ironically by slapping their face – ahem – their profile picture), give encouragement and sling a ton of sweat. Within the greater Peloton community there are interest based groups on social media that further encourage and motivate. Like dogs? There’s a Peloton group for that. Peloton Dads, Peloton Moms, Vegans, Sober groups, U.K., Canadian and Australian groups, Power Zone people ….anything you can imagine there’s likely a subset of Peloton people with that interest. It’s awesome.

Some folks see it as a gamification of fitness. (But really, who cares if it gets people moving?!) Peloton recently released an actual game that has no instructors, but mimics a toned down version of Mario Kart, called Lanebreak. I’m sure the company did tons of research and psych analyses to figure out how to keep people engaged. While Lanebreak isn’t my absolute favorite (I like an instructor engaging with the class), I am not immune to the rewards that the screen passes out when I reach milestones in daily streaks, challenges, and miles ridden all bestowed upon the rider in the form of a badge. It’s honestly pretty ridiculous how motivating a little badge on a screen is. I know intellectually it’s laughable, but I cannot deny its effectiveness.

Badges can be earned for all kinds of milestones, number of workouts, personal bests in terms of power output, workout streaks, etc. I got an email from Peloton for a free gift from the apparel department for completing 15k minutes of time spent working out. Silly? Perhaps, but I’m not turning down free yummy workout duds!

Thanks Peloton Apparel!

This week marks my 2 year “Pelo-versary”. For two years, at least one day a week, I have done something for my health and wellness. It is the most consistently disciplined I have been for the longest stretch. And two years in, I still really love it. WIth all of the health stats and metrics measured, it’s not just riding a bike in my house and listening to music. It’s tangible evidence of health improvements. With Power Zone training specifically, you can see where your current fitness level is at, and grow it from there. It’s personal training at scale – and it is very motivating to see progress over time. You cannot beat the challenges within the Power Zone Pack community!

Brene Brown’s latest book Atlas of the Heart defines many human emotions, but explains that we are social being that desire belonging to the group. (Even us introverts!) Given the isolation of the last 2 years, it’s obvious that we need each other – in life and in fitness!

When Dad Buys You Lemons…

“Can I go with you to the grocery store? I have a list.”

“Uhhh, okay,” I responded from the shower. “What did you need to buy?” I asked.

“Lemons, sugar, a pitcher, cups, and straws. PLEASE Mom! Please! I have always wanted to do this. It’s summer….”

She’d been asking to do a lemonade stand for quite a while. Like 5 years awhile. Maybe longer. I’ve put her off for various reasons. She was too young (read: I’d have to do all the work), we were busy or had other plans that weekend, whatever. The timing just never seemed right.

Me, thinking, “Well, I don’t see why not. We aren’t camping this weekend and there isn’t much going on. I think we can make that work.”

(Insert squeals of delight and frantic planning mode turned way up).

After getting items from her list, and 10 lemons (surely that should be plenty) we set up shop in the front yard, complete with canopy and “decor lemons” and her eye-catching poster:

She could barely sit still. Her excitement was met with a very supportive military community. Lots of friends and neighbors came by to grab a glass of Lil’ Miss’ yummy recipe. Great teachable moments sprinkled throughout the afternoon and evening, including the difference between sales and profit, costs of doing business, supplies, and record keeping. Live, hands on examples that will likely stick with her longer than just talking about abstract concepts.

Running out of lemons, I zipped to the store to grab 10 more! She went through pitcher after pitcher! (And multiple batches of simple syrup.) She decided to set up for Saturday as well. Lucky for her, Dad did a bit of shopping!

Yay for the Costco sized bags!

“Thank you thank you thank you! This is amazing!” she hollered, dancing around the kitchen. “We are going to have lemonade for dayyyyyys!” Turning serious for a moment, she said, “Seriously though, Mom, I want you to know I am super grateful. This is going to be sooooo FUN!”

I stopped in my tracks. “Who is this kid?” I thought. I remember playing and eating candy at 10 years old, not being grateful! Ha!

Saturday morning, she walked out saying she had “THE PERFECT SHIRT”! I turned around to see her in what is actually the perfect shirt for a lemonade stand.

Those with kids and bleeding ears have likely heard The Duck Song.
In case you haven’t heard it, here it is for your listening pleasure 😂 My kids still think it’s hilarious.
  • The base police made a quick stop!
  • SO MANY lemons!
  • Even her brother came to “show support” 😂

She sold lemonade all day Saturday and went through 52 lemons! 🤯 We have a pitcher leftover, but we aren’t mad about that! It’s quite tasty. My kitchen looks like a yellow bomb went off, but it smells delightfully fresh! Luckily the mosquitoes that are notoriously awful in our area weren’t too bad. To be sure, Eric sprayed the front yard with yard spray hours before her set up to allow for enough time for it to dry. We battled wasps and hornets (not to mention fears) and ended up moving her stand to the other side of the driveway to get away from what we think may be a nest in a tree.

Surviving the insects, we talked about all kinds of things, idle moments that generated top of mind musings as well as deeper conversations. The lemonade stand served as a vehicle to just be together with minimal distractions. There was a time when I never would have had the energy, or honestly the desire, to do anything like this. While I was drinking this would have been a no-go. I am so thankful for these reminders of my why. I love being present with them just to chat – about the mundane, what they are thinking about, their thoughts about different situations – all of it.

Who knew a little lemonade stand could be more than just some tasty beverages?!

3.5 years

Sitting here socially distanced and masked up since early spring, I often wonder about how much people have likely ramped up drinking – out of fear.

Out of boredom.

Anxiety.

Anger.

So much anger. Because yep, it’s an election year on top of everything else. Just days away from an election that will determine our path forward, for better or worse. There is a brittleness in our communities that seems tangible. It’s just right there, under the surface. I see it when I go to the grocery. I see it on the wearied faces of the checkout clerk. I feel it in the shortness and clipped responses. So much irritability and anger.

Walking through the store, I saw an elderly gentleman while in the store with what looked like at least a dozen bottles of wine. “Eyes on your own cart,” I reminded myself. The mind still wondered though. Maybe he’s buying in bulk. Who knows? Not my business. On a different day, I saw another person juggling 4-5 bottles of hard liquor. Probably having a party of some kind. Whatever. Not my business. These kinds of thoughts flash through my mind in a matter of seconds. I’ve noticed them more frequently lately, and what seems to be an uptick of alcohol purchases at a few of the grocery stores I frequent.

My 3 year soberversary rolled around a few months ago. It’s weird how time works, both dragging and speeding by as we look through the lens of hindsight. Even more so when aboard the careening Corona-coaster that is this year.

Over three years ago we were living in another state, I went veggie right around the same time and homeschooling wasn’t seriously on my radar. Eric had left for the what felt like the longest year and last deployment. (Knock on wood it stays the last!) I was looking at selling the house while he was gone. I had survived closing up the house and evacuating from Hurricane Harvey with a torn up shoulder and a bit more confidence that I could, in fact, do hard things. I chopped off all my hair and started over because I was too impatient to let the dyed/Brazilian blowout part grow.

What a time to choose sobriety.

But thank God I did.

Eyes on my own cart. Eyes on my own path.

Thank God I chose the one I’m on.

That Escalated Quickly

Just a few short weeks and the world is slowly coming to a halt. It is serious and we must all do our part for the greater good. I love this post at Reluctant Xtian and what he recommends about thinking of others and not just ourselves.

While I agree and will implement those suggestions, I’m also looking forward to the break. The break from the “have to’s”. Deep spring cleaning, long dog walks, and tackling the ever growing pile of must read books on my nightstand are calling me.

Less running around, less hurrying, and less expectations. More boardgames, more snuggles, more breathing and more savoring of the time with my crazies.

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We will continue on with our homeschool curriculum. Books will be read. We will have lots of breaks to sit in the backyard and play fetch and feel the grass under our bare feet. Sweet daughter has been mowing lawns and poop scooping for neighbors. Cookies will be baked, hands will be washed, popcorn popped, movies watched and new recipes tried.

As an introvert, I relish this time. No, I’m not glad we have a rampant virus. Businesses large and small will be affected. People are sick and dying. It’s. awful.

Yet…

Since we are quarantined, schools cancelled for the time being, and precautions are being taken – I won’t be sad for the gifts that this process is giving us. 

The gift of time.

The gift of family.

The gift of remembering our neighbors and our own humanity.

The gift of knowing that we are in this together, and that we can do hard things. 

 

Gratitude, Always

There is tired, and then there’s tired. The kind of tired you feel when you have done way more than there is time for, more than you’d planned, and are sleep deprived on top of it all. It’s the kind of tired you feel when you have to tuck your chin down, keep your feet moving and focus only on the task in front of you.

“Just one more thing. Just get through this,” I told myself as I daydreamed of sleep, looking forward to when this was all over. The truck was getting packed, little by little. The ultimate adult Tetris game being playing by my master-packer husband as oddly shaped belongings filled tiny niches here and there. I wondered as we do every move about the necessity of so much stuff.

For a person who really doesn’t like moving (and the associated stress), it’s ironic that we are a military family. There are aspects about it that I do enjoy; the setting up of a new house, arranging things, and the adventure of it . The part I detest? The packing and the cleaning of the old house. All the nitty gritty cleaning – baseboards, windows, blinds, and ovens. Not my favorite at all.

This move is hitting our little deep-feeler daughter hard. She is very melancholy, expressing her desire to go back to Texas as that is the only home she really remembers. I comfort her the best I can and remind her that it’s okay to feel yucky and whatever which way she feels about all of this. That feelings are what they are and the best way to get through these patches is to just wade right into them and feel them. You can’t avoid the bitter-sweetness, the frustration, and the sadness. The only way is to go through.

Our last night in the mostly-empty house, we did what we usually do. We read a bit of our book, currently book 3 of The Chronicles of Narnia. As I finished, nestled between 2 kids and 3 dogs in our king bed, both kiddos wanted to chat instead of the usual pleading of ‘just one more chapter!’

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“The move,” my daughter quietly replied. The volume of her voice inversely proportionate to the weight of what’s on her heart and mind.

Ever putting the positive spin on hard things, I reminded myself of what I’d explained to her earlier, that the only way through hard things, is to go through them.

“Okay, how about this,” I prompted, “What if we start by each saying 3 things that really suck about moving?”

“YES!!!” they both giggled and begged to be the first to rattle off their yuck list. Hannah asked to swear out loud once. Why not? If that’s how you feel, get it out!

Their frustrations and heartaches vented, as well as mine, we moved on to our gratitude list, things we are thankful for or that give us comfort. All of us agreed the dogs are at the top of that list. Jacob was thankful for his computer and Minecraft, as always. Hannah snuggled in close and ticked off her list.

Exhausting their lists, it was my turn. My over-tired mind contemplated the things I was grateful for. There were so many things. “I’m thankful for the way homeschooling has opened up our schedule to more flexibility,” I began. “I love that no matter what four walls surround us, be it a hotel room, a new house in a different state, home is where the 7 of us are.” They nodded their agreement.

As they drifted off to the last sleep in our house, I was thinking of the tiny little rambler that fit us so well. The morning sun I’d marveled at as it streamed in across the floor each morning, the proximity to the beach, walking paths lined with jacaranda trees and birds of paradise, and a large back yard for the dogs flooded my sleepy brain. A hardworking husband that continued packing well into the wee hours of the night, the ability to see that we were making progress, and the knowledge that this phase doesn’t last forever all came to mind.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the quiet house. “Thank you.”

Those Moments

I have loved the ocean as long as I can remember. It’s unknown depths, countless lives beneath the surface, and breathtaking beauty are simply mesmerizing. I always come away from the beach stunned and in awe of this extraordinary planet.

We’ve had the distinct privilege of living near many oceanside locations:

Beach on NAS Whidbey Island

Maylor Point Trail, Oak Harbor, WA

Hanama Bay, Honolulu, HI

Waikiki Beach/Fort DeRussy Boardwalk, Honolulu, HI

Washington Park 3 mile loop, Anacortes, WA

Front Street, Lahaina, Maui

Washington Park, Anacortes, WA

Gulf of Mexico, Corpus Christi, TX

The white sugar sands of Pensacola, Florida were intoxicating and such a far cry from the barnacle-laden rock beaches I was accustomed to growing up in the Pacific Northwest. Living on Oahu of course was paradise, no question. We spent many days out on the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico, while living in Corpus Christi, TX. It really doesn’t matter where we travel, the ocean is a must. Pretty much the only thing I love as much as the ocean are my dogs!

Knowing our time in San Diego is finite, I’m determined to make the most of it before we head back to the evergreen state. What better way than to check out a new beach?! And what better beach than one where dogs can roam free and play?

Yep – Dog Beach!

They played and raced and sniffed all the smells!

As I looked around, there were dogs as far as I could see. People were are smiling. Dogs happily barking, splashing and playing chase. Whitney whined to be let off of her leash. Her joy is running, and she had some running to do! Buck didn’t really enjoy the beach in Corpus Christi when we took him a few times, but the waves were calmer today and far off the wet sand so they weren’t as scary.

For dog people, we get that our animals are something special. They are more than pets. There aren’t words to adequately describe the way we feel – the way I feel – about them. They soothe the ache of being human.

Walking amongst the myriad dogs of all shapes and sizes, joy couldn’t help but seep in. Looking over at my “grumpy old man” Buck, seeing him trotting happily and rolling around in seaweed – those moments of pure joy and content – I simply inhaled the the view around me. I savored the feeling of wanting to be no other place than right there, feet in the sand watching them be free.

Dogs….and beaches.

That’s just about heaven on earth if you ask me.

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