A recent blog post inspired a Shoestring Living column, too. Here's why you should say "yes" - in print and on video!
Related posts:
give in. say yes.
shoestring living: tips on giving kids allowance
shoestring living: tips for reviving old routines
Showing posts with label good experiences. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good experiences. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
growing
"There can be no other occupation like gardening in which, if you were
to creep up behind someone at their work, you would find them smiling."- Mirabel Osler
For me, this is true. I could work outside in the yard all day long, without interruption, without worry or concern about the things I'm not getting done elsewhere, all with a smile on my face. I yearn for unencumbered hours that allow me this true and simple luxury, to learn and urge on the living things that greet me each time I walk about the door of my home.
And with each passing year, they deliver. Reaching and winding and grabbing on, roots and vines deepen our connection to each other, turning house into home, vacant canvas into art, and backyard into haven. And each summer, our garden bears the fruits of our labor and love and we eat endless tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, peppers and herbs with vases full of peonies, hydrangeas and lilies that bring the beauty indoors.
Helping something else grow, someone else grow, seems to be a theme for me as it's the basis of this blog as well. Tending to my real garden, or the garden of my life, fills my soul and leaves me with a smile on my face and in my heart each and every day. Here's to finding the life's work that puts the smile in your heart.
For me, this is true. I could work outside in the yard all day long, without interruption, without worry or concern about the things I'm not getting done elsewhere, all with a smile on my face. I yearn for unencumbered hours that allow me this true and simple luxury, to learn and urge on the living things that greet me each time I walk about the door of my home.
And with each passing year, they deliver. Reaching and winding and grabbing on, roots and vines deepen our connection to each other, turning house into home, vacant canvas into art, and backyard into haven. And each summer, our garden bears the fruits of our labor and love and we eat endless tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchini, peppers and herbs with vases full of peonies, hydrangeas and lilies that bring the beauty indoors.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
give in. say yes.
Last night we said "yes." Yes to 8 kids who wanted to go to the pool at 7 PM. We were cranky and tired and didn't want to go, but we said yes. And they were so happy. It made me realize that we need to say yes more often. If you could have seen our kids' faces and the neighbor kids' faces when I said, "We'll take as many as we can fit in the car!" Well, they were priceless.
As they joked and laughed and squealed from their squished, seatbelt-less positions in the back of the van, all I could think was that this is something they'll remember. A late night trip to the pool with pals on a super hot summer night. I even, probably ridiculously, imagine them as teenagers or young adults sitting around a bonfire or something reminiscing about it. (I know, I'm probably getting ahead of myself here.) But I mean, we've lived here for 5 years already and they used to look like this:
And now they look like this:
Time is flying. Give them memories. Say yes.
As they joked and laughed and squealed from their squished, seatbelt-less positions in the back of the van, all I could think was that this is something they'll remember. A late night trip to the pool with pals on a super hot summer night. I even, probably ridiculously, imagine them as teenagers or young adults sitting around a bonfire or something reminiscing about it. (I know, I'm probably getting ahead of myself here.) But I mean, we've lived here for 5 years already and they used to look like this:
And now they look like this:
Time is flying. Give them memories. Say yes.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
acceptance
"Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it." - Eckhart Tolle
We probably all come into this world with insufficiencies in small areas. I think it's part of our mission to identify the ways in which life is letting us know what lessons we need to learn about those insufficiencies and to do our best to overcome them. I have no doubt what life has tried to tell me, time and time again. No one sums it up better than Eckhart Tolle in the quote above.
Oprah Winfrey is dead-on when she says that your life speaks to you, first, in whispers, and the longer you ignore the signs that change is needed, the louder the whispers grow. Listen people, the last thing we need is life screaming at us! Still, so many of us let things get out of control or go on for so long that we have no choice but to wake up when we're finally hit on the head by one of life's rocks.
Learning to go with the flow instead of fighting it and accepting life by finding the good in every day is the message that my life, God, the universe has been sending me from day one. As a child I worried about things beyond my control, as a teen I focused too much on body image or others' opinions and as a young mother diagnosed with a chronic illness, I temporarily became paralyzed by the thought of my own mortality. Each time I conquered my concerns about whatever it was eating away at me and I was able to see the situation for what it was: another opportunity to accept.
So now, another health setback has left me reeling in recent days. It's nothing life-threatening, just scary and blanketing me with a total loss of control (note the theme here.) For those of you following, my ongoing struggle to control frequent migraine headaches has become a more complicated battle with the diagnosis of "low threshold for seizure." Having never had a seizure, this is hard to grasp onto. But grasp I did and ingested the first few months of brain chemistry modifying chemicals, even though I hated to add another pill to my sometimes daunting ulcerative colitis treatment regime.
Following a second EEG last week, I've had no improvement whatsoever. My dosage now increased; I'll be retested in six weeks. I've heard terms like "probable seizure disorder" and "additional meds" and "left temporal lobe sharps", too much for my liking. I dread the increased fatigue that makes exercise a near impossibility and the occasional effect on my short term memory.
But I can't deny one other thing: yet another chance for me to accept what life is giving me and move through it. No matter what the severity of our circumstance, the only thing that matters is right now and the good we can take from this moment. And acting as if we have chosen this experience, no matter what it is, allows us to take ownership of it and grab the reigns of our life with more drive and direction then ever before.
To avoid the risk of louder life screams, I accept. Ever a vigilant advocate for finding good doctors and playing a major role in our own healthcare, this doesn't mean I won't question, research and implement lifestyle changes that will, hopefully, eventually, get me off all these medicines.
So, I have chosen this thing that life has offered. I accept it. And I move on.
We probably all come into this world with insufficiencies in small areas. I think it's part of our mission to identify the ways in which life is letting us know what lessons we need to learn about those insufficiencies and to do our best to overcome them. I have no doubt what life has tried to tell me, time and time again. No one sums it up better than Eckhart Tolle in the quote above.
Oprah Winfrey is dead-on when she says that your life speaks to you, first, in whispers, and the longer you ignore the signs that change is needed, the louder the whispers grow. Listen people, the last thing we need is life screaming at us! Still, so many of us let things get out of control or go on for so long that we have no choice but to wake up when we're finally hit on the head by one of life's rocks.
Learning to go with the flow instead of fighting it and accepting life by finding the good in every day is the message that my life, God, the universe has been sending me from day one. As a child I worried about things beyond my control, as a teen I focused too much on body image or others' opinions and as a young mother diagnosed with a chronic illness, I temporarily became paralyzed by the thought of my own mortality. Each time I conquered my concerns about whatever it was eating away at me and I was able to see the situation for what it was: another opportunity to accept.
So now, another health setback has left me reeling in recent days. It's nothing life-threatening, just scary and blanketing me with a total loss of control (note the theme here.) For those of you following, my ongoing struggle to control frequent migraine headaches has become a more complicated battle with the diagnosis of "low threshold for seizure." Having never had a seizure, this is hard to grasp onto. But grasp I did and ingested the first few months of brain chemistry modifying chemicals, even though I hated to add another pill to my sometimes daunting ulcerative colitis treatment regime.
Following a second EEG last week, I've had no improvement whatsoever. My dosage now increased; I'll be retested in six weeks. I've heard terms like "probable seizure disorder" and "additional meds" and "left temporal lobe sharps", too much for my liking. I dread the increased fatigue that makes exercise a near impossibility and the occasional effect on my short term memory.
But I can't deny one other thing: yet another chance for me to accept what life is giving me and move through it. No matter what the severity of our circumstance, the only thing that matters is right now and the good we can take from this moment. And acting as if we have chosen this experience, no matter what it is, allows us to take ownership of it and grab the reigns of our life with more drive and direction then ever before.
To avoid the risk of louder life screams, I accept. Ever a vigilant advocate for finding good doctors and playing a major role in our own healthcare, this doesn't mean I won't question, research and implement lifestyle changes that will, hopefully, eventually, get me off all these medicines.
So, I have chosen this thing that life has offered. I accept it. And I move on.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
why
Some people think I'm a bit looney to share so much on the wide open Internet. They question my decision to endanger our privacy or place pictures and names of our children online. I've wandered into controversial territory once in awhile and likely conveyed too many personal things at times. But I've realized that I'm comfortable here, in front of everyone and no one in particular. I have grown to love this blog and look at it as the true essence of me, on the proverbial page. For the world to see, yes, but more importantly, for my kids to know.
This collection of words now nearly five years in length is among a short list of my most prized possessions. (How ironic that one of my most prized possessions is virtual!) A list of celebrations and stories of our good and bad, some so small or seemingly insignificant that they may have been forever lost if not captured here. I read through its history from time to time and remember cherished moments, hilarious infractions and unbelievable comments my children have made. I see the faces of those I love the most growing, moving through their unique life experiences. I feel how the earlier days of motherhood left me completely physically exhausted and see how it's now more of a physical and emotional consumption. I witness how we're all changing, evolving together and on our own. How we all continue to try to find the good in every day, to become wiser. And better.
I am forever grateful for the inspiration I felt in 2007 to begin this adventure of chronicling our days. It is, to me, the best baby book of all time (the three that belong to our children have barely anything written since 2007), among the best decisions I've made and hopefully, a lifeline to all that we were, are and will be. Even if I live to be 100 someday, but lose my ability to tell these stories, I love that they've been told. I love that they'll be able to be read. And felt.
Good and bad, this is our true story.
I'm sure that someday, our descendants might not be so interested, and that the Internet will have morphed into some other type of thing. But for now, I'll continue to remember, to retell, to relish this life of ours. All-consuming and challenging as it may be, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
This collection of words now nearly five years in length is among a short list of my most prized possessions. (How ironic that one of my most prized possessions is virtual!) A list of celebrations and stories of our good and bad, some so small or seemingly insignificant that they may have been forever lost if not captured here. I read through its history from time to time and remember cherished moments, hilarious infractions and unbelievable comments my children have made. I see the faces of those I love the most growing, moving through their unique life experiences. I feel how the earlier days of motherhood left me completely physically exhausted and see how it's now more of a physical and emotional consumption. I witness how we're all changing, evolving together and on our own. How we all continue to try to find the good in every day, to become wiser. And better.
I am forever grateful for the inspiration I felt in 2007 to begin this adventure of chronicling our days. It is, to me, the best baby book of all time (the three that belong to our children have barely anything written since 2007), among the best decisions I've made and hopefully, a lifeline to all that we were, are and will be. Even if I live to be 100 someday, but lose my ability to tell these stories, I love that they've been told. I love that they'll be able to be read. And felt.
Good and bad, this is our true story.
I'm sure that someday, our descendants might not be so interested, and that the Internet will have morphed into some other type of thing. But for now, I'll continue to remember, to retell, to relish this life of ours. All-consuming and challenging as it may be, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
sundays
Saturday used to be my favorite day of the week. No early wake up call, no early bedtime; the perfect sandwich of sleeping and waking freedoms, if you ask me. But kids came and my night owl tendency morphed into early bird survival and I soon fell prey to a comfy place to fall around 10 PM, Saturday or not. Now my favorite day is Sunday.
My childhood may not be chock full of Leave it to Beaver simple, happy days, but it was good in its own way. One memory that I replay often, or that I've stitched together from a few different ones lodged in my mind, involves Sunday nights. I remember staying in after dinner, following long, hot summer days. We'd each take our turn getting showered or bathed and don our PJ's. Then we'd settle in on our butts around the coffee table and eat ice cream. We might still be able to hear the neighbor kids outside making the most of warm weather and late nights, but we didn't care. We enjoyed our treat and got to eat in front of the TV. And if I'm right, I think we watched 60 Minutes. We must have really liked that ice cream, because it fails to occur to me how four kids sat for an hour and happily watched that show. I still love it.
Thirty years later, I ache for Sunday nights all week long. I'm hesitant to ever plan anything, as I know an endless, busy week will be taking its toll by then and I'll just want Dove soap-scented, fresh-air-filled, rosy-cheeked kids snuggled up to us on the couch. I look forward to the sore muscles from lots of yard work and a nearly accomplished to-do list.
This Sunday night we did just that, and we added couch-eaten ice cream. I flashed back thirty years as I looked at my kids' faces, with chocolate smudges and laps balancing big bowls of our favorite treat. We didn't watch 60 Minutes, but we did hear the neighbor kids' happy young voices stretching out the weekend to its fullest extent. There was not one complaint.
These are my favorite kind of moments. Laughs, love and ice cream goodness with those you love. I breathed in their youth as we sat there, focusing for a moment on each of their beautiful faces and holding tight to my patience as Riley and Finn argued about who would sit next to me on the couch.
"Tomorrow we'll have a 1st, 3rd and 5th grader," I thought. Amazing.
And then, after my last spoonful of the most delicious ice cream ever made, Oberweis' Blueberry Pie, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.
Life is good.
My childhood may not be chock full of Leave it to Beaver simple, happy days, but it was good in its own way. One memory that I replay often, or that I've stitched together from a few different ones lodged in my mind, involves Sunday nights. I remember staying in after dinner, following long, hot summer days. We'd each take our turn getting showered or bathed and don our PJ's. Then we'd settle in on our butts around the coffee table and eat ice cream. We might still be able to hear the neighbor kids outside making the most of warm weather and late nights, but we didn't care. We enjoyed our treat and got to eat in front of the TV. And if I'm right, I think we watched 60 Minutes. We must have really liked that ice cream, because it fails to occur to me how four kids sat for an hour and happily watched that show. I still love it.
Thirty years later, I ache for Sunday nights all week long. I'm hesitant to ever plan anything, as I know an endless, busy week will be taking its toll by then and I'll just want Dove soap-scented, fresh-air-filled, rosy-cheeked kids snuggled up to us on the couch. I look forward to the sore muscles from lots of yard work and a nearly accomplished to-do list.
This Sunday night we did just that, and we added couch-eaten ice cream. I flashed back thirty years as I looked at my kids' faces, with chocolate smudges and laps balancing big bowls of our favorite treat. We didn't watch 60 Minutes, but we did hear the neighbor kids' happy young voices stretching out the weekend to its fullest extent. There was not one complaint.
These are my favorite kind of moments. Laughs, love and ice cream goodness with those you love. I breathed in their youth as we sat there, focusing for a moment on each of their beautiful faces and holding tight to my patience as Riley and Finn argued about who would sit next to me on the couch.
"Tomorrow we'll have a 1st, 3rd and 5th grader," I thought. Amazing.
And then, after my last spoonful of the most delicious ice cream ever made, Oberweis' Blueberry Pie, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.
Life is good.
Monday, June 4, 2012
shoestring living: tips for reviving old routines
My column this week for the GateHouse News Service
For our family, summer is just one more school day away. Parents everywhere are screaming for a change in the routine and I am no different. I’ve announced a moratorium on lunch making, can barely push myself through our get-out-the-door rituals and updated my Facebook status this morning with, “Will this school year ever end?”
Read more.....
For our family, summer is just one more school day away. Parents everywhere are screaming for a change in the routine and I am no different. I’ve announced a moratorium on lunch making, can barely push myself through our get-out-the-door rituals and updated my Facebook status this morning with, “Will this school year ever end?”
Read more.....
Friday, May 25, 2012
go get scared
"Do one thing every day that scares you." - Eleanor Roosevelt
I love a good quote. In days that I can barely remember my own name in the midst of a merciless schedule, a good quote sticks, moves me and keeps me focused. I'm sure that has something to do with how important the written word is in my life; when I see a few strung together in a particularly striking way, they have an affect, period. The one above is a personal favorite.
Let's face it, in average days of carpooling, schedule maintenance, appointment remembering, home management and for many of us, work life, there are too few opportunities to really challenge our limits. Days melt together, with sore butts from bleacher seating and lots of mind-wracking to get us and our loved ones to the right places at the right times. There's little time to stand on the proverbial edge and freak ourselves out.
But last Sunday, we did. Well, Mike actually loved every minute; I'm not sure this qualifies as a "scare" for him. I, on the other hand, screamed and swore like a truck driver for nearly two straight hours as we rode the Tail of the Dragon through the Smoky Mountains. Top down and flying at high speed, we experienced what I can only describe as the longest, most thrilling roller coaster ride imaginable. Only eleven miles in length, the lead up and tail end made it feel much longer. I was white-knuckled from beginning to end, wondering what I might look like in the professional photographs being taken all along the 11-mile stretch and if the actual explicative I was emitting would be visible on camera.
This is the same stretch of road that my father-in-law, an expert motorcyclist, drove a few years ago. He had an accident and miraculously only broke ribs and some pieces off his Harley. So we knew it was dangerous territory that lied ahead. We saw crazy wrecks, took corners at top speeds with absolutely no vision of what existed beyond the bend. We turned 318 times, abruptly. We flew through the most beautiful mountain forests. We stopped three times at scenic overlooks to let a terrified minivan driver get further out in front of us, so that we could obtain the FULL EXPERIENCE. And although it might be the most irresponsible thing we could do as parents, we are considering driving home this way from North Carolina in August. Our youth-filled, fearless kids would probably think the Tail of the Dragon is the coolest thing ever.
Imagine this at 50 mph!
Once we hit rock bottom, the metaphor of the whole experience hit home. I was thrilled that we survived. (Mike was just thrilled!) I placed total trust in my Mario Andretti husband and he delivered (as if there were any doubt.) We accomplished something totally amazing and out-of-the-box and had an experience like never before. Even though thoroughly freaked out, we emerged victorious.
(Thanks to www.killboy.com for this awesome image!)
We must remember this feeling. This free, we-can-do-anything-and-create-our-own-experience-in-this-life-of-ours feeling. No one else is responsible for what we do, how we grow and what we take away. Scaring ourselves, catapulting ourselves forward in every way, surviving our fears and then thriving? We all need just a little bit of that. Every day.
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