SISTER WISDOM : build a better life

In Emperor's New Groove, Kronk is, of course, my favorite character. I don't really know how you could have another favorite character.

Kronk has a shoulder angel and a shoulder demon and carries on a few bits of dialogue with them in the movie. At one point, he ends up dismissing them: “Eh, you guys are confusing me, so, uh, begone or whatever it is I have to say.” “That'll do,” they say, and disappear.

Kronk, You, and What's On Your Shoulder

What I'm not going to say here is that if you just listened to the voice of God all the time, you wouldn't have any problems. First, that's far too simplistic, kind of obvious, and also depends on what you mean by problems.

Some fine people who seemed to have it together as far as listening to God's voice continued to encounter what I'd define as problems. Lion's den, anyone?

What I am going to say is that you do deal with voices. Loud ones, quiet ones, all kinds of 'em, all the time. Yours, your past's, your culture's, and everyone else's. Blah, blah, blah. Know how I talk about how we talk too much? I think we do that, sometimes, just to cover us the voices blabbing away in our brains. We don't know how to turn them off, so we talk louder to cover them up. That helps, a bit. But there's a better way.

Get to the One Thing Already

So – big surprise – the one thing holding you back, my friend, is that you're listening to, and then acting upon, the wrong voices. But here's where it gets tricky, because it's not quite as simple as a shoulder angel and a shoulder demon.

Would that it were. And maybe, deep down, it is, but the problem is that on the surface level – the level on which we hear the voices – things get muddled. Sometimes the shoulder demon dresses up like the shoulder angel. Sometimes the shoulder angel sounds, well, stupid. Sometimes it's a regular carnival and everybody's in costume.

Vibes. Get the Good Ones.

The reason we listen to the voices – any of them – is that they appeal to some part of us. But it's subtle. It's manipulative. It's not always easy to identify, and oh-so-easy to justify. Here's a simple way to differentiate:

The good voices move you forward from positive motivation.
The bad voices move you backward, in circles, or not at all from negative motivation.

And right now, let's just go ahead and identify the absolute Queen of all negative motivation, at least as far as women are concerned.

Guilt, the Reigning Potentate of Bad Voices

Guilt is the Queen because she seems so right, so accurate. She'll talk to whatever matters to you. She'll phrase it in such spiritual terms, such self-sacrificial words, that saying no to her will seem like the worst sin ever.

But let me be the one to clarify something for us all right here, right now.

God does not motivate us through guilt. God motivates us through specific conviction (something is wrong in what you're doing, and this is it) and then equally specific encouragement (here is forgiveness, here is how to change). God pulls us onward, forward, by showing us what could be better in specific terms, not what might get worse in vague fear-shaped visions.

Queen Guilt, on the other hand: Vague. Subtle. Manipulative. General. Incessant. Overbearing. Fearful. Anxious. Keeps you running in circles. Keeps you from moving forward. Keeps you from letting go. Offers you no forgiveness. Offers you no hope. Commands you to change but offers you no way to do it.

Annie, 1: Queen Guilt, 0. Ha.

A couple of nights ago I had a list of things that I needed to get done for work.

Now, listen so you know where I'm coming from: I grew up with a stay-at-home Mom. I always thought what I'd be is a stay-at-home Mom. And I am. I'm also, however, a freelance writer. I get to work from home. I do this because, to my surprise, I discovered that I go stir-crazy if I'm not doing something in addition to being a Mommy. That's just me.

On this evening, I had a backlog and we were in between Internet services at home (don't even get me started), which meant that I needed to escape to wifi-land for a few hours. Which meant that I needed to leave my Baby and my babies. At home. On the weekend. Without me.

I didn't have a nice dinner made. I did have a backlog of laundry, a house dirty from our crazy weekend, and a husband who can handle all that stuff, all the kids, and all my paranoias just fine, thank you very much.

But guess what I still felt as I pulled out of the driveway? Yep. Guuuuuilty. No matter that I was going to work, not to have a manicure. Didn't matter. Queen Guilt was on the scene and just chatting me up like her BFF.

And I let it go on, all the way to the parking lot, before I finally realized I wasn't talking to myself. I was being talked to. I was being told what to feel, couched in a whole bunch of vaguely spiritual “good wife-good mom” terms that just punched my buttons.

But that's when I realized this: if God had wanted me to stay at home that night, this is NOT how He would be telling me.

At that point, I punched a few buttons myself, ejected Queen Guilt from the sidecar, went in and got my work done and got back home. End of story, until the next time...

What's Your Next Time?

We've all got hot buttons. You know you do, and chances are those might be areas in which God is calling you to change. But don't confuse the voice of God for the voice of guilt. Guilt will keep you spinning in the same cobwebs. God will set you free.

Remember: it's not a question of which voice is loudest. It's a question of which one you listen to, which one you hear, which one gets your attention. And that part is up to you.

Here's a recap:

Bad voices will appeal to your insecurity, pride, ego, flesh, fear, stress, mistakes, past, comfort, ease, desire for security, need to be right, need to be needed, need to fit in, need to be liked, fear of man, religious sensibilities.
Good voices will appeal to your morals, dreams, courage, humility, understanding, true confidence, sense of adventure, sense of risk, sense of purpose, deeper vision, long-term goals, sacrificial love, wisdom.

Bad voices will be urgent: do it now, do it now, do it now or else.
Good voices will be direct, specific, and consistent: this is the way, walk in it.

Who are you listening to?

We had a small unnerving crisis last weekend. I say small, because I know that in the whole big scheme of life, the universe, and everything, our crisis matters not a teensy bit. But in my small pond, it was a big unnerving splash.

Joe's salary is base + bonus on the hours he makes. So his paycheck fluctuates. It's a very fair set-up, but sometimes we think we know what we're going to make in a pay period and... we're wrong.

So that happened. Friday.

Then Joe's iPhone broke. Friday night.

Then we discovered that our mortgage payment had gone up. By $200. In my financial world there is not $200 of wiggle room for the random upping of the mortgage payment. (No, just in case you're concerned, we're not on an ARM; they just recalculated our escrow and we have to bring our escrow balance up in time for tax payment.)

The good news of our weekend was that Joe's iPhone is still covered by warranty (29 days left) so they fixed it for free. Sigh of relief.

All weekend long my brain sounded like this ohmygodohmygodohmygodohDear God I'm sorry, I need to trust you, I know I do, I'm sorry, help me to trust You, it's just that ohmygodohmygod Okay I did it again, I'm sorry I'm really trying.... Ad infinitum.

Monday night, Joe's on his way home, and I'm scrounging around, depressed by the fact that my pantry and freezer are so close to empty and I have no grocery money. I'm feeling sorry for myself, and resentful, and all I can think of is all the people I know who seem to be making it just fine and what do they know that we don't know? and why is this so difficult for us? and aren't we working as hard as we can? and what else can we do? and it just isn't fair. And other purposeless phrases. I find a package of sausage and throw it in the sink to thaw, figuring that pancakes and eggs (one of my favorite meals anytime, anywhere) and sausage will be just the thing.

Joe gets home and we give each other that looks that says ohmygodohmygodohmygod - yeah I know, me too - ohmygodohmygod as he is engulfed by children. Happy children. Happy children who do not understand why they need to make this pack of Pull-ups last as long as possible.

We finally get dinner made and kids seated and plates served, and we're sitting around the table eating pancakes and Joe's explaining to the kids why we have to give them spankings when they are foolish, because we do not want them to grow up to be foolish people who are always unhappy and cannot serve God. Robbie, my little handsome not-yet-three-year-old, forks his last bite of pancake and waves it mid-air to emphasize his words: "I am being wise." He shoves the pancake in his mouth and nods. "Foolish vewwy bad."

And I look at him and my eyes get all watery and I think this is it.

A little while later, I am doing dishes and Joe has taken the kids outside so I have a little space in which to do dishes. I can see them all from the kitchen window. I'm standing at the sink, scrubbing plastic Lion King plates and wiping drops of syrup, and outside I see my handsome husband balancing three chattering children on the hammock with him. He looks up and gives me the "I Love You" sign.

And I look at him and my eyes get all watery and I think this is it.

This is it. This is what matters.

I pause my scrubbing for a minute to look up. Okay, God, I say. I'm sorry. I'm done. You're in charge. I'm not.

No more ohmygodohmygod but O God, how great is Thy goodness, which Thou has laid up for them that fear thee; which Thou hast wrought for them that trust in Thee before the songs of men!

What matters in your life today?

The first step is admitting you have a problem. And this is your problem. You have an assumption. A basic, unconscious assumption about life:

Everything is going to be okay.

Not to rain on your parade, but, well, your definition of okay and the reality of what actually happens in your life are not going to line up.
Bad things will happen to you. Sometimes because of you, sometimes because of other people, sometimes just because. No good reason that you can see.

We don't acknowledge the truth that things aren't always going to be okay. Instead, we drift along with this mentality of inevitable triumph, regardless of the signs telling us otherwise. And we reinforce this (false) idea in each other.

• "Don't worry, everything will work out."
• "You'll figure it out."
• "Things will get better."

There is, however, no guarantee of things working out or getting better or even not getting worse. When you assume that no matter what, it's all gonna be okay in the end, you remove personal responsibility from the picture. You also remove reality from the picture.

Drop the Okay Lie

The Okay lie: You assume your kids are going to turn out okay... so you don't take your job as a parent seriously, you let things slide, you don't deal with bad attitudes when they first appear. The result: your kids end up rebellious, unhappy, and lost and you shake your head and wonder how that happened.

The Okay lie: You assume that if you work hard and don't mess up too bad, you'll end up with a good career and stable finances.... so you don't pay attention to economic problems, industry lay-offs, small business closings, cutbacks, or even the great opportunities (involving risk) that come along. You don't take charge of your own career/money in a proactive way. The result: you become a victim of economic shifts and don't know what hit you until you're 6 months into unemployment.

The Okay lie: [here's one from my personal experience] You assume that your cancer-stricken Mom will make it. She'll fight it off, the chemo will work, she'll get better, and she'll be there in your life the way you expect, and God won't let her die yet. Life is a right, after all, and God owes us this much. Right? The result: When you lose something that matters this much, you can't avoid being shaken. But if your core belief is "I deserve an okay life and God better work it out," then the not-okay stuff will shake you through the center and put your very faith in God into question. I spent a year not sure if I wanted to believe in God again. I finally came to this conclusion (basic, I know, but it took me a while): Life is a gift, not a right. The good things that we receive are blessings, privileges, not automatic rights that we can demand.

Rights vs. Gifts

It goes against Western culture to talk about our inalienable rights not being rights. But the concept is bigger than government-for-the-people; it's more about created-and-Creator.

"Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, 'What are you making?'
Does your work say, 'He has no hands'? Woe to him who says to his father, 'What have you begotten?' or to his mother, 'What have you brought to birth?'
Isaiah 45: 9-10

Now, here's the good news.

You can't (and shouldn't) walk around expecting Death to drop on your head at any moment. You can't live in fear (well, you can, but it won't be much of a life).
But when you drop the everything is going to be okay just because belief system, you can handle what does happen much better. Pretty quickly, you'll see that 99% of life falls into 1 of 2 categories:

1. Stuff you can control
2. Stuff you can't control

For the first category, losing the Okay Lie means you start taking responsibility for what you can control (how you parent, what you do with your money) and doing your best at it. Guaranteed better results with that approach, no matter what the area is.

Riches, Peace, and Freedom

For the second category, losing the Okay Lie means two things:

First, you start receiving every good day, every good things as a gift, a blessing, a privilege. You are thankful. You are grateful. You see how rich your life is, already. [Guess how thankful I am for good health. And for the fact that I have my Dad and sister. And for a mother-in-law and a stepmom who are such loving grandmoms to my kids.]
Second, you start trusting God the way He should be trusted, as Creator, not as giant-Santa-in-the-sky. And with that trust comes peace and freedom. Peace: I don't have to fight the inevitable truth that I will experience pain. I just have to remember to come to God with my pain. Freedom: I don't have to be in control of the things that I can't control. It's beyond my ability to guarantee a good life for myself and the ones I love. I am free to live, do my best, and trust God with whatever else happens.

Everything is not going to be okay. But that's okay.

"Nothing mankind has yet made is worth any regret." T.E. Lawrence

As of this writing, my kids are cute little stair steps: one, two, and three years old. And the reason I'm writing is because the stair steps are asleep and don't need my attention. When the stair steps are awake, writing is only a fond dream. A fond dream, kind of like the fond dream I had of what my house would be like... before I actually had a house of my own.

Transitioning Into Real Life

I'm one of those (rare?) folks who went straight from Mom and Dad's place to newlywed life. A tricky transition, at best. I understood budgets and how to clean and cook - how to rearrange furniture - how to pick out matching curtains.

But I didn't understand how to transform myself from someone who cared more about reading a great book or writing a great article than rearranging furniture or hanging up curtains. Oh, don't get me wrong. I do care what my house looks like. I care a lot. It pricks my pride when things are, well, iffy. But I don't care enough to put all my waking hours into turning this place - our home - into something magazine worthy. And when you're working with a newlywed budget for home decor - in our case, a wopping $0 - all you can put into it is time.

You Say Crafty, I Say Crappy...

I tried a lot more DIY type stuff before babies. I sewed a little curtain, with a very crooked hem, to hang over my kitchen window. I didn't have any curtain rod or hardware, so I bent two forks and managed to attach them to the wall, then used welding wire to string the curtain. It looked... well, let's just be honest: it looked iffy.

My talent does not lie in the crafty, sewing, DIY, decorating world. Oh dear, no. I am finally realizing this, instead of pretending like I have a latent talent for it that just hasn't been discovered yet. (By the way, did you ever notice that "latent" and "talent" are the same but for two letters swapped in position? Hmmmm. That might mean something.)

My latent talent remains hidden, well below the surface. And I'm kind of coming to a strange peace with letting it stay there.

Proof I Am Getting Somewhere

Point A: I cajoled a dear friend of mine into sewing up the curtains for my front window, after purchasing the fabric with an "Oh sure I can do this, it's just a big rectangle" pep talk and then staring, guiltily, at the fabric for 3 months.

Point B: I have stricken the phrase "I need to paint that ___________" from my vocabulary for at least the next three months. I do need to paint things, lots of walls and cabinets and doors and trimwork, but I've quit pretending that I actually want to or will DO that painting.

I'm way too busy with other things, things I love more, things that matter more to me. Family, teaching my children, getting outside, dates with my husband, losing the last 20 pounds of baby weight, writing writing writing and reading.

I Didn't Think I Was a Liar

There is a level of honesty with myself in those statements that I never gotten to before. I kept putting things on my list and putting them off and feeling guilty and making plans and repeating the cycle. And all the time I wasn't getting any of those "house" things done and I was distracting myself from the things that really matter to me.

The truth about myself and my love-hate relationship with my dwelling is this:

• Truth 1: I love it when it looks good, but I hate putting the time in to make it look good, or better, than it does now. Regular cleaning is about all I can manage. (And I confess, even the cleaning is below my Mom's standard. Please don't lift rug corners, touch over-eye-level surfaces, or open closets in my home.)
• Truth 2: Functionality matters more to me than trendy or pretty or even matching.
• Truth 3: I would rather (by 1000%) spend my "extra money" (ha ha, what is THAT?) on a) more books or b) really good food or c) a massage than on decor, curtains, pillows, fabric, furniture, etc. You know, that stuff that makes a house look good.
• Truth 4: I'm not as much of a DIY Frugalista Home-Freak as I'd like to pretend. I'm not going to spend my weekend breaking down that toddler bed, stripping it and repainting it and turning it into a headboard. No, I am not. I am going to spend my weekend playing with my kids, working in the garden, hiking in the woods, doing the absolute minimum cleaning necessary, and maybe baking some really fattening but delicious cookies to eat while I finish my current read. (Note to self: put that half-reupholstered rocking chair on Craigslist asap.)
• Truth 5: I am, finally, five years in to this whole house/home/marriage thing, okay with those truths about myself. I am finally not berating myself for being a secret member of the Anti-Cutesy-Crafty-Home-Decor Mom Brigade. I don't have anything against cutesy or crafty or home decor, I'm just done feeling guilty because I don't spend my time on it. It's just not me.

The Time Has Come

There is one last truth that accompanies the previous five, and you know what it is already. It's the title of the post, it's the inevitable break-up. I can't expect to have a perfect (or even semi-near-the-neighborhood-of-Perfect) house if I'm not willing to put time into it. This is a simple concept, and I get it.
It's time to let go.

One day, I hope, mere years rather than decades from now, all this investment in writing writing writing and reading will have paid off in some sort of tangible (read: bank account) way, and then I might revive the relationship with my perfect house.

No, not that I'll have "made it" as a writer, so I can take some time off to work on the house. Heck, no. Just that I'll finally be rich enough to hire somebody to do it for me...

-----

Images

1. The red house with cows courtesy of Jody McNary Photography on Flickr.

I'm talking to you women who are going through the motions. You're listless, confused, bored, frustrated, tired all the time. You seek distraction. You depend on your spouse or your kid or your dog to make you feel needed, seen, alive. Unfortunately, your spouse/kid/dog doesn't always get it.

I'm talking to you women out there who have thought of a dozen new businesses, but started none of them. You've dreamed up new products, contemplated marketing ideas, started little projects... and never gone past the dreaming. You've always stuck at the starting line. It wears you down.

I'm talking to you women who feel stretched to the max, pushed and pulled and demanded and needed and wanting to be everything to everyone. But also, inside, you're wanting to scream because you've pushed your own needs down for so long.

I'm talking to you.
Are you listening?

Are you wondering where you went?

Do you look back at photos of yourself and think, "Where did that girl go?" Do you stutter and mumble when people ask you what you've been doing lately? You mutter a boring answer like "oh, the job" or "oh, the house" or "oh, the kids" and then change the subject. Are you excited about anything in your life right now, or are you just tired? Kind of bored. Listless.

I don't buy the boredom excuse.

The world is so full of a number of things... and so are you. You're in there, stuffed way down near the back, crammed into a little wad behind "money worries" and "family obligations" and "taking care of other people" and "trying to get life figured out" and "large chunk of self-doubt I keep banging my shin on." Yep. There you are. I see you. Hi! Go on. Give me a little wave.

We need to get you back out into the light.

Let's talk about something inspiring, something fresh and energizing, something that awakens you... something like house cleaning. Yeah. That's it.

Look, here's the deal: some things aren't a matter of choice or preference but of necessity. House cleaning is a great example. I don't love it. It's not a natural high. It's not my fun activity for the weekend. (Is it yours, because if so, let's work out a deal...). But it has to be done, for a number of reasons, so we do it. Sometimes finding yourself isn't about what you do but about how you do it.
You still have a choice and personal expression in even the lowliest of tasks. There are three ingredients:
1. Attitude
2. How you do what you do.
3. Where you put the attention (yours and everyone else's).

"There is choice involved in the very simplest form of creativity..." says Schaeffer, and then she goes on to say that those "'if-only' feelings can distort our personalities, and give us an obsession which can only lead to more and more dissatisfaction" (1).

Let's take that housecleaning example a little bit further.

I'm not going to start preaching about the atmosphere of the home,

...the sanctity of what you do as a modern homemaker, the benefits for your children... though those issues certainly deserve thought and attention. But let's just look at you. You live in a house. You don't want to live in a dirty place. So you clean. You pick up your clothes, you wipe off a counter, you sweep the floor.

You can either do all those things (for yourself and for the other people living in your home) with a grudging, bitter, woe-is-me attitude that can't wait to be getting to the important stuff in life or you can find a way to make the necessary duties less drudge, more lively. Schaeffer refers to this as "bringing the artistic into life" (2).

I'm not saying you have to don a lacy apron and make sweet love to the vacuum cleaner.

I'm saying get creative, even on the things that are daily ho-hums.

Like this: get your organizational powers to work and make up a cleaning schedule that is the most efficient thing anyone's ever heard of. Figure out how to get your house sparkly in ten minutes a day. Or this: make your own aromatic, natural cleaning potions, if that's what toots your horn. Use them to clean your own home, wow your friends with the non-toxic goodness, and start up a side business... Or this: Put on some loud, fast, fun music, your old grubby clothes, give all the kids a dust rag, and party like it's 1999 while you clean. Or this: wear your Bluetooth and chat up your old friends while you wash dishes, wash windows, wash clothes. Or this: carry a trash bag and challenge yourself to declutter each space as you clean, week-by-week creating the simple, minimalist space you crave.

Why are we talking about housecleaning in a series that is supposed to be about rediscovering the you that got buried under all those cleaning supplies?

Because you have to start where you are.

I'm guessing that even though you feel like you want to run away from home some days, you have a commitment to staying. You love your husband. You love your children. You're not going to run away, which means that you need to rediscover yourself in that home you have to clean, while you're with those kids you need to care for, when you're spending time with that husband who loves you, too.
If transforming your life can't happen in the daily grime and grind, then it's not real transformation; it's just redecorating. We don't want that. That's a waste of time.

"We are all in danger of thinking, 'Someday...'" (3).

Look at the obstacles which those we call great overcame to give action to their passion, their creative impulse. How many other greats are unknown, not for lack of talent, but because they settled down into and hid behind life's circumstances? Maybe you are one of them. Great people refuse to be defined by situational constraints.

Not a single one of us is meant to live a mediocre life. Every one of us has the potential for greatness, for genius in some way or another. And the world needs all it can get. The vast majority never challenge themselves beyond a little circumscribed circle some person or culture or situation has drawn around them.

Are you one of those?

The vast majority live in unsatisfying, unfulfilling mediocrity due to lack of action. There are several key reasons why we often don't take action, and we're going to figure them out. Which statement rings true for you?
1. I don't want to be, but I feel kind of stuck in the "if-only" attitude, simply because I just don't see how it's even possible to make time, space, energy, money or otherwise for anything else in my life.

2. I'm frustrated, unfulfilled but I'm busy with daily life and I don't even know what I would do if I had the time. Hobbies? Interests? Did I ever have any of those?

3. I know what I want to do - it's been bugging me for years now - and I know I could make it happen, somehow, but... I just don't. I'm scared or lazy or uncertain or something, but I just can't seem to build up enough momentum or even desire.

4. I'm doing what I've always wanted to do, living the dream you could say, but really? I'm disappointed and afraid to admit it. If this is "my thing" and I'm not excited about it, what else is there?

It's time you blew away that smoke screen and figured out how to get back to the you that is excited about life. You don't even need a pretty journal (but you can go buy one if you want to).

1. Schaeffer, Edith. The Hidden Art of Homemaking. Page 25, 33.
2. Schaeffer, Edith. Page 33.
3. Schaeffer, Edith. Page 33.

Hello, week in review.

We found the first open daffodils. We smelled them. We tried not to touch them.

Later we found lots more, so we picked a few and put them in a vase for Mommy. I love being Mommy.

Read the rest of this entry »

This post is part of the 30-Minute Blogging Challenge at Steady Mom.

I just started a pot of coffee brewing, and since my coffee maker needs to be cleaned out yet again (darn hard water) and takes about 30 minutes to brew a pot, that's my automatic timer. I'm taking this 30-minute posting challenge because I have that feeling, the one of a pesky little guilt peering over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "You're on the computer agaaaain?" It's hard to hear the whisper sometimes because of the kids hollering in the background... Read the rest of this entry »

I went online to recheck the library books I have out. I got an error message saying "You cannot renew these items because you owe too much money."

Yesterday I made a list of 11 things to do. I did two of them. (But I did also go sledding and make snow angels. I have priorities, people.)

Ironically, I've been working on an article called "Getting Organized for Winter."

So I changed the article, because the article sho-nuff isn't changing me. Read the rest of this entry »

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I ♥ Resolutions

Okay, I love New Year's. It's my favorite holiday. (I just realized that this year so I'm broadcasting it in hopes that the people I love will recognize and support me in my favoritism by buying me gifts for New Year's, too. I mean, it's the least they could do, really.)

I love making resolutions. I come up with a long list every year. Some years I decide not to go overboard, and I limit myself to something reasonable: 10 or, okay, 11 if I just can't help it.

And yeah, I don't keep them all. At all. Hardly ever. I goof, I fail, I mess up, I quit, I weaken, I have no willpower.

Except for this year. This is the year.
Right?

Making Progress? Really? (Or Is That Heartburn?)

I've noticed a disturbing trend, lately, despite my habitual resolution making and breaking: I'm actually making progress. I guess the endless repetition is finally getting to me. My resolutions are generally far bigger than can be accomplished in one year, anyway. (For example, #11 from 2005, "Prove global warming is a myth" and #6 from 2007, "If not a myth, figure out how to solve global warming." That just takes some time, I don't care who you are.)

I'm making progress. Don't ask me how, exactly. I still do a lot of the same stupid stuff in the same stupid way (i.e., get mad at Joe for not reading my mind, expect my kids to get along with each other, stay up too late, eat too much, forget to work out, forget to call, forget to write, forget my name, find myself on the Amtrak headed to Toronto in early spring... oh wait, sorry, I just lapsed into a Mommy-escape fantasy there. Back to what I was saying.)

I still do the same stupid stuff, but I don't do it quite as often. I still do the same stupid stuff, but I get over it quicker. And I'm happier. And maybe this has nothing to do with New Year's and making resolutions at all. Maybe this is just me and where I am in life, and I just happen to be reflecting on it all as 2009 goes out and 2010 comes in.

The last 5 years have been a rollercoaster. More ups than downs, and crazy fun, but intense.

A Recap

2004:
January - Joe and I start courting. (And yes, I said courting not dating and I'll go into that some other time but not here, goshdarnit, so just keep reading and don't get bogged down in those little details.)
May - Joe and I get engaged.
September - Joe and I get married. I move to St. Louis, since, being married and all, we kind of want to be together.
2005:
Jan - September - We adjust to married life, we work together in the family business, we have fun, I miss my family a lot, I want to have a baby, I start worrying that I can't get pregnant (no birth control! Hello!), I start writing more.
October - We're pregnant!
December - We buy a house and move in!
2006:
Jan - June - Pregnancy and home ownership.
July - Mara is born on July 11. We have a wonderful home birth. She is beautiful. She is an easy baby.
2007:
Feb - We decide that Mara is so easy, we should have another. We're pregnant!
May - I spend the entire month in MS to be with my Mom, who is not going to get better. It is the strangest experience I have ever had. Our emotions are as strung out as possible. I miss my husband.
June - My mom dies. I go back home. I am numb.
November - Robbie is born. Our son. I start getting unnumb.
December - We spend Christmas in Colorado. I think I was supposed to be born there, and live there, and we start plotting how we will move there.

2008:
April - My Dad gets married and my sister gets married, within a week of each other.
August - We haven't figured out what causes this. We're pregnant! My dad says, "You've got to be kidding me!" I alternate between "YAY" and fits of "ohmygoodness-howcouldyoudothistome-whydidwethinkthiswasagoodidea-wearegoingtobeinsane-weareinsane-ican'tdothis-aaaaaaaaaah."
2009:
April - Zeke is born. I think, "Third birth at home, nooo problem. It'll be easy." Haha, Andrea, haha. But he is beautiful, our little Ezekiel.
May - July - Our house, when did it start shrinking?
August - From out of nowhere  comes a new place to live. We move into "the parsonage." It's big. It has a huge stone fireplace and a sunroom and is on the 10 acres of church property, woods and fields and flowers and deer. I am in heaven. We rent out our house.

End Recap.

And here we are.
2010.
I think this is what I'm defining as progress, this feeling that I finally know who I am and am comfortable in that.

But don't think for a minute I'll stop making resolutions.  I've gotten way too good at it to quit.

Image courtesy of Sara. Nel.