"You do not have to change in order to love yourself." Some of the most obvious ideas are surprising.

Today, just an interesting quote from a post by Glennon Melton:

1. You do not have to change in order to love yourself. You have to love yourself in order to change. That means embracing yourself completely, right now at this moment -as a bitter, scared, disorganized faithless mess. ...  We must stop loving ourselves conditionally. We MUST stop being such jerks to ourselves. We must treat ourselves how we’d like others to treat us.
2. No one can have it all and people should just stop saying that already. I just listened to a woman give a speech the other day about how you CAN have it all. ...  I’m sure she meant well, but I kept thinking: you don’t have it all, lady. For example: you’re not a fisherman. Fishermen get up before sunrise and pull on their plastic gear and head out onto the bay before anyone in the whole world has woken up. They glide through the water and they sit, and they wait, and they work, and they watch the sun rise over the water and they say good morning to God first. And that is their slice of happiness. Made just for them. Not you, not her, not me.

How can ideas be both obvious and surprising?

Childhood then and now

Then: Children talked to imaginary friends 'face to face'.

Now: Child talks to imaginary friend on imaginary cell phone, in the car.


(p.s. They talk about how things are going on the "job site".)

Post-panic

I'm short on time here, but I do feel compelled to write a follow-up to yesterday's panicky post.
First, just writing that post made me feel a little bit better. (Thank you internet.)
Second, it led me to do something else that made me feel a lot better. I finally opened up to my husband that I am having some doubts. That's it. Just doubts.
I'd been afraid to say anything for fear that he would reply, "Well, if you don't want to go then just don't go," to which I would have frostily replied, "I didn't say that I don't want to go; I just said I'm having doubts."
He didn't say that though. (Which just goes to show that it's better to talk to your spouse in person than in your own head.)
He said something like this:
"Try it out. If you don't like it stop. But I want you to try it so you don't have any regrets."
It was a very brief conversation, as are all conversations during dinner with a four-year-old. The entire conversation took place during the brief window between, "I have to pee and I want more milk," and "Mom! I need help!" at which point I ran off to help in the bathroom.
And yet this conversation made me feel much better. And very, very loved.


For the record, it's not the school itself that is worrying me.
Rather, it is the prospect of going to school for three years, which is a massive investment, only to potentially discover that I have chosen the wrong career, again. Shudder.
However, I have to have faith in my ongoing ability to judge this for myself. Studying will help me discern whether, as I believe, I will be good at this and I will enjoy it. It's one thing to read about a topic, or to engage in it for oneself; it is quite another to perform on command. So, we will see.


With that out of the way I have to admit that I am a liiiittle bit nervous about the schoolwork -- I have a lot of software to learn, and I will be jumping into classes alongside students in their third and fourth years of study. I remind myself that I have seven (!) years of post-secondary education, but none of it is relevant, with the possible exception of a half-course on Medieval architecture -- best grade ever; go figure.

Panic

So, I've pretty much abandoned my blog. The usual reasons. Lack of time; too easy to get swept away in the internet once I go online... yeah, you know what I'm talking about; summer time...
HOWEVER.
I am experiencing something so unexpected and unwanted that I am throwing it out to the universe (well, the teeny tiny fraction of the universe which may read this post, anyway).
Here goes.
After years of cluttering up my life with things that might logically be organized in a home office, finally creating a home office, MONTHS OF PROCRASTINATION, and days of actively decluttering and organizing said home office, I AM ALMOST FINISHED! The end is in sight. There is just one more box to file away, and it contains stuff that I already sorted a few months ago but didn't file (telling, I know).
SO, I'm almost finished my most-dreaded decluttering job, and I feel... surprisingly... nauseous.
I should feel happy, but... my throat is swollen. Imagine if your throat were removed and replaced with a section of live boa constrictor. Exactly.
What gives?
Am I just anxious because it is time to pick up my son now and I haven't QUITE finished this job and my house is covered in paw prints and my in-law's are coming for supper tomorrow and, um, I start grad school in a brand new field in less than two weeks?
Um, yeah, maybe that has something to do with it.
OMFG!

Swinging through summer

It's been a busy few weeks -- and it's only going to get busier!
I did some career counselling as I try to find my path -- and figure out if my 'fantasy career' is really the right one. It's not that I don't dare to follow my dreams. I'm just wondering if my designated 'fantasy career' is in fact the career of my dreams. You know, if you got the chance to date your celebrity crush, would you want to? Perhaps not for long! And not at all if you're already sharing your life with the real man of your dreams.
On a completely different note, I got all craft-tastic which is totally unlike me.
First I warmed up with a hideous castle cake.
Then I helped my son make gifts for all nine(!) of his former teachers. They were supposed to be his own creations but, mea culpa, it turned into a bit of a family project.
And hosted a dynamite dino-party. Photos to follow. Roaring success followed by never-again resolution.
Finally, I recovered with a completely craft-free camping trip with our son, his two best friends, and their parents. A little (okay, a lot) disorganized, a little buggy, a lot hot, ample beach and chill time.
What will the next few weeks bring?

Consider me pinched

This morning my four-year-old invited me to have some Rice Krispies with him. As we sat across the table over breakfast, he began to sing in his pure, sweet voice:

Mothers are the best.
Mothers are the best.
Mothers really are the best.

"Do you like it?" he asked. I did, and I asked him where he'd heard it.

"I just thought of it," he said.

Pinch me!

Unfortunately, an hour later we had this little exchange:

Four-year-old: "What the heck is that?!"
That sounded a little rude coming out of a four-year-old's mouth, so I said:
"How about you try 'what in the world' instead of 'what the heck', okay honey?"
Four-year-old: "Okay mama. What in the world is that fucking thing?"

Parentism and petunias

I think I jinxed K with my Happy Father's Weekend post. His email struck me as funny and prompted me to try a dad-mocking tone (isn't that what successful mom-blogger's do?).
It's sad how common it is for moms to mock dads. Last night at soccer one of the kids arrived woefully underdressed for the cool, misty evening. She was accompanied by her father and I caught myself thinking, "Dressed by dad." I didn't say it out loud, but a minute later my friend did. I've ranted about men who don't hold onto their toddlers in parking lots. I've complained about dads who don't supervise their kids on the play structure.
It's sexist.
There are more-attentive parents and less-attentive parents of both genders, and we all have more- and less-attentive moments. The world is full of wonderful fathers, and I am blessed to raise my child with one of them.
As for Father's Weekend, both the Father's Friday Fire and Father's Saturday Golf were cancelled, and K spent lots of time with our son. On Saturday afternoon they shovelled mulch and even planted the annuals I'd bought for my hanging basket, while I cleaned up our basement storage room. Win-win! I missed being with them but my heart smiled when I caught a glimpse of them working on the basket together. Now I am happily reminded of them both whenever I glance up at this: