E is for Everything

“I Want It All” is one of my favorite songs by Queen. I love the trademark Queen choral send up, the passion in the performance, the lyrics, topped with a solo by Brian May.

This is my “get fired up” song, especially when I’m working out. I do want it all:

Adventure seeker on an empty street,
Just an alley creeper, light on his feet
A young fighter screaming, with no time for doubt
With the pain and anger can’t see a way out,
It ain’t much I’m asking, I heard him say,
Gotta find me a future move out of my way,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,

Listen all you people, come gather round
I gotta get me a game plan, gotta shake you to the ground
Just give me what I know is mine,
People do you hear me, just give me the sign,
It ain’t much I’m asking, if you want the truth
Here’s to the future for the dreams of youth,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,

I’m a man with a one track mind,
So much to do in one life time (people do you hear me)
Not a man for compromise and where’s and why’s and living lies
So I’m living it all, yes I’m living it all,
And I’m giving it all, and I’m giving it all,
It ain’t much I’m asking, if you want the truth,
Here’s to the future, hear the cry of youth,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now,
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all, and I want it now.

Not that I am youthful anymore, but I am doing things, changing things so I can have as much time to get everything I want — or as much “all” as I can actually can do. It’s not money, it’s not things. I want experiences, to see/hear/do the things I am interested in.

So here’s to the dreams of youth — getting fulfilled in late middle age.

D is for Duh!

Since I was late with yesterday’s post, I will make this one short.

Duh! is something that came into my vocabulary back in the early 70’s middle school. I think it was originated (at least in the school), by a couple drummers in our band. I love the simplicity of the word. The way it is a universal acknowledgement of the obvious. It is a great word.

Duh.

C is for Champion

My youngest daughter Rachel has a knack for gymnastics. What she doesn’t have a knack for is self-confidence. That may be typical for an almost 13 year old girl, but I wish that wasn’t the case. She is really a wonderful girl: smart, funny, and kind. A real winner in the category of Decent Human Beings.

She’s shown some natural ability and interest in gymnastics since she was 3, which I indulged. In the last three years, she has been in competitive gymnastics. She has never set a clear goal for herself, because she tries hard to stay out of the limelight. She does very well, running second to the superstar on the team. She’s good with being second banana, but she’s not good with accepting accolades for her accomplishments.
PointyToes
She surprised me last month by declaring she wanted to compete at State Individuals on bars. She set her mind to it, and qualified. We celebrated that accomplishment, and just told Rachel to do her best at Individuals. She is on the young side of her age group, so the expectation that she would place was low. Plus she wasn’t doing some of the fancy moves that other gymnasts in her age group would do. She was proud to have met her goal. It was so good to see that boost to her self-esteem.

At Individuals, she blew us away. She got her highest score of the season on bars with her simple but very clean routine. She finished 4th in her age group, and looked proud of herself on the podium. We sang the appropriate Queen songs at the top of our lungs on the way home. We called her “Champion” and did not receive the pre-teen death stare in return.

I am still calling her “Champ”, two weeks later, and she’s cool with the label. While her awards for other competitions can be found strewn across her bedroom, her 4th place trophy has a place of honor on her bookshelf.

It is good to see Rachel have pride in her accomplishment, and to take in and accept the congratulations.

B is for Boogers

I’ll come right out with it. I have some cold/allergy/virus thing going on right now. While the ‘output’ may not be huge, it is bothersome.

This leads me to a story about this (formerly) small person.
vina
On one morning drive to day care, while she was doing her two-year-old car seat chatter, Sarah had a huge noisy sneeze. Sneezes happen, so I didn’t think anything of it, other than to say “Gesundheit!”. Plus I had some nasty traffic to deal with.

After a bit, I noticed that it was very quiet in the backseat. I took a quick look over my shoulder to look at Sarah. Her face was covered in green boogers from her nose to her chin. And she had the happiest smile on her face. She was quite pleased with her accomplishment.

I quickly pulled over, got out and cleaned her up. How deep were her sinuses to hold all that snot? It took all the tissues in my purse, plus some McDonald’s napkins that were floating around my front seat to get Sarah’s face clean.

After that, I always checked to see Sarah’s nasal state immediately after she sneezed. I think I still do, and she’s 16 now.

When was the last time you were embarrassed by boogers?

A is for Adelaide

Adelaide is sleeping on the bed right now, while a the first thunderstorm of the season is hitting. I am glad she is sleeping because she’s right at the age where dogs develop storm phobias — 2 to 3 years old.

I’ve never had a storm phobic dog. I don’t do anything special other than if a big lightning bolt causes them to jump, I make all kinds of happy noises and tell them what a wonderful dog they are. It’s worked so far.

Here’s a picture I took of Adelaide today, using a vignette filter on my cell phone camera. Isn’t she cute?

2015-04-01 16.55.54

Tell me in the comments if you have/had a dog and if they had a storm phobia. Thanks for stopping by!

Children Learn What They Live: Adrian Peterson and Rethinking Childhood Discipline

I have some sympathy for Adrian Peterson of the Vikings, as he was disciplining his children the way he was disciplined by his family. He has said as much. We all know that children learn by watching adults, and it’s not surprising to me that someone who hasn’t had (or made) the space to think about childrearing and discipline winds up disciplining the same way he was. He’s young enough and his life has centered around football for so long, he hasn’t developed the maturity it takes to be a parent.

Now, he is charged with the abuse of his child. I can imagine there’s confusion in his mind — switching is what he got as a child. Was that child abuse back then? Were his parents child abusers? Are they now also considered child abusers? It’s a hard place to be, acknowledging that your parents would be considered child abusers in today’s world and that you too are now considered a child abuser by the law because you were raising your children the way you were raised. His parents were probably tough disciplinarians (like their parents) but they loved and wanted the best for Adrian, too.

Adrian Peterson has a lot of thinking and reconciling to do. He is learning, the hard way, that switching is not how you discipline kids. The court will probably “give” him that opportunity to think and learn and reconcile. May he mature, and become a better parent and learn effective disciplinary methods.

There are more Adrian Petersons out there, male and female. They don’t attract the attention like a professional football player. But hopefully they will take note of Adrian Peterson’s situation, take it to heart, and also work to be a better disciplinarian, before they wind up opening the door to a Child Protective Officer.

Love Thy Enemy

And God said ‘love your enemy, ‘and I obeyed him and loved myself.”
~ Khalil Gibran

Oh those are hard lovely words!
What does loving yourself look like? Is it primarily physical, or primarily mental?
If you love yourself, aren’t you being selfish?

I am my own worst enemy. I am trying to change that but it is hard, hard, hard.
I started a regular schedule of taking my meds and vitamins every morning. While we were in Portland, I just downed a handful of pills every morning at breakfast. I had measured them out for the whole trip. All I had to do was open the container, swallow, and chase it with liquid.

I have two weeks of meds laid out. I refill the case every two weeks. Every morning, I sit at the table by my computer, and send them down the chute.

I’d like to say I feel better. I’d like to say I am now a picture of health. I can say that I take my medication every day. I can say that I am probably better off for doing it.

I don’t know that love has to be a huge gesture, but rather it can be a series of small kindnesses that add up. So right now I am doing one small kindness. Tomorrow, I will start another small kindness that I can do every day — write every day. In two weeks, I will come up with another one.

So tomorrow, after I take my meds, I will do some exercise — one of my interval workouts. Then take a nice shower to take off the sweat. Then I shall sit down and write some morning pages. Then move on with my day. I will have shown myself a bit of love.

90 Minutes for Me – Why Not?

In the last couple of weeks, I have been jumping into the start of my work day (every day for me is a work day). I should be centering myself, getting my water, coffee and something to eat, and planning my day. I find that when I just jump into the work, I lose track of taking care of me and doing the things to make me successful. It becomes all about everyone and everything else, and trying to make others happy. Which ultimately makes me less productive all around.

I am going to focus the first 90 minutes or so of my daily awake time around getting me physically, medically, mentally, and organizationally prepared for the other 930 minutes of my day.

The hard part is getting around my negative voice telling me that I’m stealing from others if I take that time for myself first in the morning. The voice that tells me I get out of bed and need to immediately serve others AND tells me it would be so much nicer just to stay in bed all day. Maybe I should just tell the negative voices to go fight it out in a corner!

I want to believe that I am worth spending that first 9.7% of my day on myself.

Grateful for: 6/22

My husband – it’s his birthday today. Happy 67th, John! Your birthday pies will be made shortly.
Living on high ground
A working sump pump
Coffee. Always coffee.
New friends that feel like old friends.
Puppy snuggles.
A teenager that still wants to be with her mama after a day of fun with her friends.
A less-sulky and more open to sharing — today — pre-teen.
Did I mention coffee?
The bounties of nature: food, plants, flowers.