As the Mother Goes

“I hope this year has a good ending.” – FofF (Twitter)

Me, too. On a side note, I love the author’s pen name, “FofF”. Our wonderful lawn maintenance guy is named Ed. His business is called Ed’s. Whenever we need him to do something extra in our yard, I love to say out loud, “I need to call Ed of Ed’s!” It just cracks me up for some reason. I even look for things for Ed to do, so that I can say out loud, “I need to call Ed of Ed’s!”

This weekend I got a little friendly reminder/kick in the pants from a girlfriend on a text chat. We were all ranting about everything that we have to do for the holidays. Now this friend has been mothering for about a decade longer than I have, and she even has a grandchild. She is very wise. She said something to the effect, “Ladies, we only get so many
Thanksgivings and Christmases in our lives . . . . As the mother goes, so does the holiday.”

It’s so true, isn’t it? Who can’t relate to the saying, “When Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy”? Perhaps focusing a little less on what needs to be done and more so, on who needs to be loved (including ourselves), would make the holidays even more pleasant and memorable for everyone. Of course on that same chat, another friend quoted an article that was discussing a study that showed that socializing with extended family and friends makes the average person long for peace and quiet within 3 hours and 54 minutes.

So while socializing this holiday season, after about 4 hours or so, (a little less or a little more, depending on how introverted or extroverted you may be), here is my prescription for you (and for me). Go to your special place, by yourself, ideally outside in nature, but perhaps you can just conjure it up in your mind. Take some deep breaths and take ” . . .time to step out into a season – something to do with what John Muir called ‘washing your spirit clean.’ ” (Robert Genn) I think that taking the time to “washing your spirit clean” would be an excellent gift to give to ourselves and thus, it naturally becomes an extended gift, that of being of clean spirit, as we spend time over the holidays, with the people whom we love and cherish.

*****FYI, from Wikipedia:

John Muir also known as “John of the Mountains” and “Father of the National Parks”, was an influential Scottish-American naturalist, author, environmental philosopher, glaciologist, and early advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States of America.

Sunday Soul

This year is different

I’m trying to put a definition on something that has never been.

I am trying to fit the new

into old, worn out, torn boxes.

How do you live outside of a long experienced paradigm

Completely?

Elon Musk and his triangle truck

Inspiration.

Readers, I have decided to turn Sundays into “Sunday Soul” and to play around with poetry on my Sunday posts. It feels strange to me because it is not something I have spent a lot of time doing. Trying to write poetry, when you never really have, is kind of like going to your first pottery or painting classes. I don’t have my footing. I don’t really know what I am doing, but I am enjoying the experience. It feels lonely up here in the blogspot. I sure wish you guys would play around with some poetry in the Comments section. It can be our own neat little virtual coffee house poetry reading, every Sunday.

So, I hope you don’t mind the format change. Unless I have something truly pressing on my mind that must come out in prose form, Sundays here are Adulting – Second Half are dedicated to poetry. I hope the rest of your day flows rhythmically, and softly, peacefully and profoundly and poetically . . . . .

Open, Honest and Real

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In this day and age, the above principle is a tough ship to navigate. I feel like I know three camps of people: people who epitomize the acronym “TMI” and let it all hang out, to just about everyone they see, meet or greet in real life and on-line, and then they are utterly shattered when they are used or taken advantage of; then there are the people who are so private, so completely protected by a wafting sense of mystery and secrecy, leaving everyone who meets them totally frustrated, always yearning to find the hole to scratch and find the actual beating heart and true, open, flowing emotions, under the veneer of steely, calculated collectedness; and finally, there are a vast amount of people who work desperately to keep up and preserve a cheerful, carefree image for everyone, online and offline to see, but in person, seem to be staving off a loneliness and a yearning for connection, underneath the flimsy, cardboard, surface-y, semblance of it all. I think that I have vacillated in between all three of these camps, for most of my life.

People who read my blog often comment on the fact that I don’t mention my family members’ names. People who know some of the major crises I have experienced in my life (by this middle time in life, we all have gone through at least one or two “major biggies”), are sometimes curious why I don’t choose to write about these events. The reality is, I’m still navigating my ship of disclosure, trying to find the waters that are comfortable to me. At the same time, I am not a pirate. I respect the other ships on the sea, and I steer clear of their own private, personal journeys. Their journeys are not mine, and their ships are made to sail along different waters, than where I am headed. Even if we do find ourselves in the same pool of calm or stormy seas, I can only speak for my part of the adventure. How I am experiencing the waves and the turbulence, and even the calm, still waters, may be different than the other ships, because they are built differently that I am, and they carry different cargo and baggage than I do.

In the end, as important as authenticity is to me, and as much as I value real, heartfelt connection, I value the relationships at the sacrosanct table of my life, far more than anything. It’s a fine line to cross and to navigate, especially as a writer. Recently, I was telling my husband how frustrated I am by the fact that my life feels so full of little, aggravating interruptions and I often wish that I could disappear for vast amounts of time, to just focus on writing. But then the “aha moment” came to me, that all of my writing comes from my day-to-day experiences and my interactions with the people at “my table” and even the people standing around the table or even with the people, in the far corners of the rooms of my life. These experiences are priceless to my understanding of myself and thus the extension of myself, my sacred practice of writing, which helps me make sense of that deeper understanding of myself.

Today, with this honest, candid inside view of my thought/writing experience, I have invited you, my faithful friends and readers, to some very special seats, at my table. Thank you for taking the seat, and allowing me to share. I hope that you will sit and stay awhile, and I promise to keep your seat empty for you, when you return again. It is then that I will give you the same warm smile that I wear on my face right now, thankful for your place settings, in my life, making me feel worthy, understood and connected and open and honest and real.

It’s Friday, You Turkey!

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Happy Friday, my dear readers!!!! It is not only Friday, it is Favorite Things Friday!!! Can I get a “Gobble, Gobble?!?” Friends, we don’t get into the depths on Friday here at Adulting – Second Half. On Fridays, I typically list three favorite songs, books, products, websites, apps, etc. and I encourage you to add your favorites to the Comments section. This will be particularly helpful, as we all will be doing our Christmas shopping in the next few weeks. Please check out previous Friday posts for more goodies. Without further ado, here are today’s favorites:

mint&lily Remember Who You Are Cuff bracelet – I ordered one of these for my daughter and it arrived over the weekend. She loves it and I love it! It is very nice quality. Inside the cuff are the engraved words: “Whenever you feel overwhelmed . . . remember whose daughter you are and straighten your crown” My daughter wore it yesterday, when she had to take five exams. I like to think that it helped calm her anxiety a bit, and at the very least, she knows that I am with her, always.

Gemmy Industries Animated Baby Goat – Every year I add to our collection of cheesy animated Christmas trinkets. We have a hound dog that sings “I’ll Have a Blue Christmas”, a naughty, flirty, French mistletoe man and a Christmas Tree that shakes and whirls like nobody’s business. This year might be our best addition yet. This little guy wears cute pjs, a Santa hat with a matching scarf, and is a “live” version of the screaming goats that are very popular on social media. He appropriate sings “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire“, while intermittently screaming. My dogs can’t stand him, but I am not even close to being sick of him, yet. I hope that his batteries have lasting power.

Honey app – This app really appeals to the lazy in me. They call it the “smart, shopping assistant.” Honey, when you are shopping on-line, you no longer have to look for promo codes. This app will add every appropriate promo code that it can find, to your order before you check out. It’s already saved me quite a bit of money, honey. (and I have tested it, by looking up promo codes first to see if the app will find it. It has, so far!)

Enjoy a nice weekend!!! I’m so thankful for all of your support!! xo

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Extra

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Lately, a couple of my friend text chats have been about the love/hate relationship many of us middle aged ladies have with the holiday season. There is so much good about the holidays and then there is a lot, that is well, A LOT. On reflecting on the fact that I know so many women who feel a bit overwhelmed with the “extra” quality (extra food, extra money, extra cleaning, extra cooking, extra parties, extra drinking, extra guilt, extra decorations, extra responsibilities, extra lights, extra emotions, extra grief, extra melancholy, extra anticipation, extra expectations, extra company, extra elf hiding, extra red, extra green, extra sparkles, extra fancy clothes, extra crowds, extra worries, extra shopping, extra returns, extra religious services, extra gained pounds, extra adrenalin, extra glitter, extra packages at the front door, extra patience, extra annoying songs, extra breath-taking music, extra aggravations, extra worries, extra laughs, extra fights, extra joy, extra tears, extra gratefulness, extra exhaustion, extra mess, extra bills, extra cute movies . . . . just, you know, extra) that the holidays bring to this time of year, I decided that I needed to find the lesson in all of this. I think if you can enjoy the holidays, yet also get excited and crave getting back to your normal routine, that says a lot about how you feel about your regular life. If you get to the point of wanting your ordinary, typical life back during the holidays, then what that is saying is that you really, really like your life! That’s a good thing. Because life is mostly life without the extra-ness of the holidays. Perhaps the greatest gift that you receive during the holidays is the reminder of how much you like your regular, ordinary, every day life. It’s kind of like when you go on a wonderful vacation, but find yourself craving getting back to home, towards the end of the trip. You sometimes even say to yourself, “I need a vacation from my vacation.” Perhaps the peace on Earth that the holidays gives to us, is allowing us to contrast the over-the-top quality that our holidays have evolved into, versus the comfort of our average daily life and thus finding ourselves, EXTRA appreciative for the relief and the relaxation that our simple, familiar, orderly everyday lives provide for us, during most of the days, in our lives.

W-A-I-T

“There is a thing that I do: W-A-I-T. It stands for “Why Am I Talking?” explains Hanks. “I wrote that down in a notebook that I keep to remind myself that listening, for me anyway, is a disciplinary art. I have to force myself to listen because I love the sound of my own voice and because I’m a movie star I’ve been infantilized by everybody I come across who says I’m wonderful.” – Tom Hanks, being interviewed about his new movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neigborhood, in which he depicts Mr. Rogers

Listening is a disciplinary art for almost everyone, except for a few treasured, gifted, amazing people who everyone is equally intrigued by, and adores, all at the same time. I’m not a great listener. And since I am not a charming movie star, I’m already starting out with two strikes against me.

Despite swearing that I was going to expand my horizons this year, and start volunteering for things that didn’t involve my local school district, (trying to branch out from what I have done for the last two decades or so), I’ve ended up becoming a mentor to a 10th grader and a 3rd grader on a weekly basis. (like many middle-aged women, I am not great at saying “no”, nor was I doing an especially ambitious job of looking for volunteer opportunities, outside of the schools) I had to get special training for this mentor position. I went into the training cocky, presumptuous and overconfident. I’ve raised four almost grown children, who I think are pretty special people, and I’ve volunteered in the schools for 20 years. I could teach this “mentoring class” on the fly with one hand tied behind my back. I’ll put my time in to meet the state requirements, but I will probably be bored out of my mind. HA!

The focus of the mentor training was on LISTENING and what “real listening” is, and what it means to people. If you are good listener, apparently your response to the person you are listening to, will be a good reflection and understanding of what they expressed to you. That’s it. That’s all that they want. They want to feel heard and understood. They want to feel validated and important. They want your confidence that they are capable people who will figure out their own issues, in due time. The worst response apparently is advice, evaluations, and analyzations. Even reassurances can just be experienced as condescending brush-offs.

So right after my training session (after finishing up eating my crow and choking on some feathers), I ended up writing a long apology for my lack of listening skills, throughout the years, to my family (husband and kids) on our family group chat. My dear ones all kindly accepted my apology with not one protestation that I was mistaken about my lack of good listening skills. There was not one “awww, but you are too hard on yourself, you are a GREAT listener” from any single member of my crew. Rightly so. I then sheepishly extended this apology to some of my lifelong friends. They were very gracious in accepting my apology, as well.

I’ve worked harder on focusing on what the other person is saying, instead of using that time to come up with my soliloquy in response. Still, I know that I have some work to do on this listening process, yet. Yesterday, when I rudely interrupted my 10th grade mentee with a question about her story, she patiently but firmly replied, “I didn’t get to that part of the story yet.”

I like Tom Hanks’ W-A-I-T trick. I don’t want to be a walking podcast. I want to be present for my family and friends. I want to be a little more Mr. Rogers and little less “movie star – in my mind”. I think that life probably feels a little bit more in depth and meaningful that way.

“When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.”― Ernest Hemingway

“This is the problem with dealing with someone who is actually a good listener. They don’t jump in on your sentences, saving you from actually finishing them, or talk over you, allowing what you do manage to get out to be lost or altered in transit. Instead, they wait, so you have to keep going.”
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

The Lesson of the Trees

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****Above is another great one from Think Smarter, my favorite Twitter feed of all-time.

Every morning, on the drive to school, my daughter and I ride through a street that is canopied by trees. It is like a long, beautiful tree tunnel and I look forward to driving through it, every single day. This tree-lined lane is one of those lovely places that is probably roped off from time to time, so that people can have beautiful, natural wedding processions and celebrations, underneath the comforting shade and protection that these majestic trees so ably provide. It is interesting to me that these trees are firmly rooted, on directly opposite sides of the road. They are big, strong, solid trees that have weathered many Florida storms and even hurricanes, together. And although they sit on complete opposite sides of the road, they look to be almost exactly the same. They all carry the same tree DNA.

By far, the most exquisite part of these lovely trees, is the canopy of delicate, yet sturdy sunlit leaves and branches, that they have created, where they come together in gambrel fashion. It is breathtaking, how desperately these trees seem to want to meet in the center, as the highest part of each of these trees, reach for each other, in a deep yearning stretch. It just seems so natural and correct, for them to want to find each other in the center of the road. And where these awe-inspiring trees finally do meet, their coming together, at the highest place – oh my, their creation looks almost as lovely a rooftop, as does the beautiful, vast, starry night sky.

We have so much to learn from the wise, old, sensible trees.

Minutes of Unrest

Good one from Think Smarter (Twitter) this morning:

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My husband and I watched 60 Minutes last night. I have a love/hate relationship with 60 Minutes, because I love the unique stories that the show presents, yet the show really stirs me up emotionally. Too much. Last night, I felt muddled wondering if mining our ocean bottom is really an answer to prayers and a wonderful, vast, unexplored resource, or the last natural environment on Earth that we have left to destroy. I just don’t know. And then the story about Sesame Street making a special TV show, especially for the children who have grown up in tents in refugee camps in the Middle East (miraculously, many of these tents have satellite dishes), touched me to tears, but then, it also made me sick to my stomach, imagining one child, much less thousands, growing up in those fields of desperation. I then found my thoughts wandering over to my shallow side, getting hypercritical about Lesley Stahl’s earring choices and her moppy hair style, which spurred me into some curiosity about Lesley’s age. Lesley Stahl is 77 years old!! She is still an interesting (because she, herself, is curious and interested), sharp, objective reporter. Lesley Stahl has written a book about how much she loves being a grandparent, and she and I share the exact same birth date. Shame on me. Lesley Stahl can wear her hair and her earrings any damn way that she wants. Lesley Stahl is awesome. Simply awesome. Back on the pedestal, she goes. (See, I told you, 60 Minutes puts me in a conflicted state of mind, which is not a restful way to end the week.) 60 Minutes should NOT be aired on Sunday nights. But, it is a good contrast to and break from football . . . . . and then, the conflicted mind continues on and on and on . . . .

Sunday Soul

I’ve been haughty and I’ve been humble.

Humble feels better.

I’ve been valid and I’ve been vulnerable.

Vulnerable feels more connected.

I’ve been smart, salty and sassy.

But that was all to cover and soothe

My sweet simple soul.

I dined by myself last night.

Table for one.

It was

Delicious.

“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.” – William Wordsworth

“Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. ” – Thomas Gray

Readers, I’m feeling like today is a good day for poetry. Please take the time to write down the poetry flowing from your heart today and please post it to my Comments section, if you have the inclination. Love, peace and poetry are my wishes for you today. Tranquility.

Conversation Starter

My youngest son called me up the other day, with a nervous tone in his voice. One of his best friends from high school, a boy whom we all adore, but who definitely has some wilder tendencies, was visiting my son at his university last weekend. (they go to different schools) I held my breath wondering what my son’s confession was going to be, and I instantly was wracking my brain as to what the boys might have gotten themselves into, in their youthful exuberance.

“I don’t want you to be disappointed in me,” my son stammered.

This is the time in the conversation when I wanted to scream, “Just spit it out, dammit!!” Many times in previous years, I have screamed those very words to all four of my darling children, during times of high hormonal content in my bloodstream mixed with bad sleep from the previous night, but this time, my son actually caught me at a calm, post- relaxing, meditative moment, so I remained quiet and patient.

It turns out that my son wants to change his major to a less practical major, one which really interests him much more. Phew. Exhale. Sigh of relief.

“You could NEVER disappoint me, except in moments that you would deliberately hurt yourself or hurt other people from bad intentions and actions,” was my first and instant response. We then had a nice conversation, weighing the pros and cons of his decision to change his course of studies. Me, being the forever dreamer/optimist, focused a little heavy on the “pros”, whereas his father, who is visiting the boys this weekend for his brother’s annual fraternity “Dads’ Weekend” and is far more practical and level-headed, will probably focus a little bit more on the “cons”, when he has breakfast with my youngest son this morning. (My husband and I balance each other out quite well, in that way.) Still, in the end, it is my son’s decision with what direction that he wants to take his life, and I trust that he will find the right answer for himself.

“Honor thy father and mother” is one of those biblical edicts that has caused stomachs to churn for centuries. It cropped up in my head, as I felt the disappointment in myself, that my son feared talking about his major change with me. Everyone has a different idea of what “honor thy father and mother” actually really means. Now that I have been a parent for almost 24 years, I have seen this edict from all different angles and I feel more firmly in my ideas about that edict, than I ever have before.

My husband and I chose to bring four children into this world. We did this for us. We wanted the experience of parenting. We wanted to build a family together. My children’s beautiful souls graciously accepted the challenge of being our children, despite not asking to be born. They have fulfilled their commitment to us, by allowing us the magnanimous experience of raising them. I am honored. I am more than honored, by that fact. I am utterly grateful. I hope to have a satisfying relationship with all of my children and their families for the rest of our lives, but that is up to all of us, as adults, to be healthy, considerate, loving people, who have and who accept healthy boundaries – people who anyone would want to have a satisfying relationship with. When we are adults, it becomes a mutual thing. There are no “shoulds.” I am not a selfless martyr. I chose to have my children. I also have a life outside of my family and that is important for all of us, for all of our ultimate growth experiences in Life. I do not care to have any relationships with any other people that are heavily based on fear, guilt, control, obligation or shame – not my children, not my husband, not my extended family, not my friends, not even with myself or with God. I choose authenticity. I choose healthy Love.

I think that it is very sad to use the Bible to make excuses or pardons for inflicting our ugly behavior (without repentance), the kind of negative behavior that we sometimes and most often, inflict on the people who are the closest to us – the people whom we love the most. I read something recently that said the true way that we honor our parents and our family name is basically, by not being a jerk. We dishonor our parents by leading lives filled with deceitful, criminal activities. “Honoring” speaks nothing of the intricacies and delicacies of a mutually satisfying relationship.

I know that not everyone sees things the way that I do. I am comfortable with that. I love the variety in this world. It has taken me a long time (probably most of my life) to figure out my current life philosophy and I understand that this current philosophy is more than likely to evolve and to grow and to change, as I do. The people whom I most intimate with in life with, are also in the ever-changing process of growth and unfolding. I respect that. My conversation with my son this week, spurned a lot more thought, introspection, and contemplation than just my opinion on his career goals. It is said that relationships are “people growers” and I like to think that my son and I both experienced some healthy individual growth from our conversation. This individual growth helps the garden of our relationship to continue to bloom in a healthy, satisfying way for both of us, a relationship with its roots being firmly planted in the deep, rich, nourishing soil of authentic Love.