~Miracle Suit~

I am conducting a grand social experiment today. It’s Mother’s Day, but I did not remind my kids this week that this holiday was coming.

I want to see if they’ll take a moment to recognize the day without being TOLD to. As future husbands and fathers (perhaps), I would like my sons to be the kind of men who independently and thoughtfully recognize things like birthdays and Mother’s Day.

They are in middle and high school, so making crafts designed to be heartfelt gifts in their classrooms is in the distant past.

I did not drop hints. Or make a list of things I’d like. Or make big plans.

I did not nudge, cajole or insist that they make a plan for a card, a gift, a memory making moment.

But the media is chock full of reminders. There are cues everywhere.

They are visiting their paternal grandmother with their father for a couple of hours. And they will be giving HER a gift that I nudged, cajoled and insisted that my former husband plan and purchase.

The hard part will be not slipping into pouting mode if they forget.

I must be willing to accept that they may not. And, if they do let the day pass without a kind word, I must save my disappointed tears for late tonight.

They are boys. Teenage ones, at that. Holidays are rarely on their radar until the day is upon them — the exception being Christmas, but how on Earth could they possibly miss that one?

I must remember that the absence of gift or card does not mean that they do not appreciate me. Or that they do not love me.

It simply means that they need a little more coaching before adulthood arrives.  For while they are boys, that does not give them a carte blanche excuse to be clueless about social and relational behaviors. The ultimate goal is to raise them to be men who appreciate and value other people.

If, however, they return home and celebrate this day with me unprompted, my heart will swell with pride, and my face will light up with a smile. I will know that one more important facet of becoming a “good man” has been crafted into their character.

And that will be a most important Mother’s Day memory.

Photo Credit: Duchessa on Sxc.hu

I love Kid President. He just makes me laugh.

For those of you who haven’t been introduced to this amazing kid, it’s interesting to note that his real name is Robby Novak and that he was born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta (Brittle Bone disease). What started as a promotional video for Freed-Hardeman University’s annual benefit dinner — his first video — A Pep Talk - has been viewed more than ten million times.

Thought he might give you a giggle and a warm fuzzy today too.

The world could use more positivity, and this kid delivers it with an infectious smile.

Enjoy! (For email subscribers — Kid President video here)

Loved it, didn’t you?

If you did, share it to spread joy today!

I stumbled upon this video this weekend on Facebook.

Given that I have had deep, wrenching sobbing sessions related to my boys leaving the nest, it seemed like the perfect meditation for my life.

I have viewed being alone as a negative. Something to be avoided.

The words of Tanya Davis planted a seed in my mind that those thoughts might need to be challenged.

I soaked up these words, marinated in them, and they have begun to change the flavor of my thoughts on alone-ness.

And if it benefits me, it will benefit many of you.

In that spirit, I share with you:

How to be alone

How do you manage your alone time?

Some people thrive on taking risks.

I am not one of those people.

I live my life cautiously — taking one carefully planned step at a time.

Last week, I took a risk.

It was fairly well-calculated. And relatively safe.

If it didn’t work, there was no risk to life or limb.

I put my name in the hat for a position on the Board at my son’s school.

I wrote a very short introductory piece and submitted it to the school for them to include next to my name in the voting process.

I spoke from my heart. I did not list my multitudes of leadership roles. I did not trumpet my years of public school teaching experience. I simply said that I wanted to serve. I wanted to give back. I figured that was the type of information they sought. Every time I think I understand how things work there, based on my experiences with public school, I’ve learned that they do things differently. Which is a very good thing.

Apparently, selecting a person to serve as a parent representative on the Board is the ONE thing they do like everywhere else.

When the voting began, I saw my name and my heartfelt little blurb along side three AMAZING descriptions of three other parents who HAD listed their leadership experience, their expertise in education, their prior work related strengths they bring to the job.

My blurb looked like I was a lost puppy looking for a home.

When the voting was finished. Two parents were selected as representatives on the Board.

I was not one of them.

As I sat with my disappointment, I felt like crying. Or crawling under a rock.

Yes, I was disappointed that I won’t be serving in that role.

I was still feeling the tiniest bit embarrassed.

But when it got right down to the crux of the matter…

I realized that I just don’t like to lose.

And that realization stopped me dead in my tracks. My resistance to risk taking is less about being careful and more about making sure that if I take that risk that I win.

If that isn’t perfectionism, I don’t know what is.

From the recesses of my mind, I pulled out this nugget of wisdom:

When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.

What did I learn from losing?

I learned that I don’t like to lose which ordinarily would be a motivational speech for getting out there and winning.

But, in my life, maybe the lesson to be learned is that I need to get in the game.

Even if it means taking the risk that I might lose.

We always learn more from the losing than the winning. ~Yani Tseng

As a homeowner, I know that maintenance is a necessary use of my time.

Lately, though, the age of my home combined with the lack of available hours has left me with a ginormous list of honey dos and a deep feeling of inadequacy.

I’ve always been a DIY kind of girl.

I come from a long line of people who figure out how to fix stuff, but there are only so many hours in a day. And only so much energy.

This weekend ended up as a series of meltdowns.

I just can’t seem to get on top of what needs to be done.

There’s rotted siding.

Ripped screens.

Massive dandelions in my tulip bed. Seriously, it looks like the tulips ought to be considered the weeds, because they are hopelessly outnumbered by the invaders.

The fence needs repair.

The lawn looks like a goat patch (no offense intended to my friends who have goats).

And the list for the interior is so long it wouldn’t fit on one side of a piece of paper.

There’s not much of a budget for any of this work.

Twice this weekend, I considered putting my house on the market.

Moving into an apartment.

Eliminating all this maintenance from my life.

But the reality is that in order to sell, I would have to fix all this stuff anyway. And I love my home. I love being able to work on the yard. I love being able to paint the walls. Or do something fun with the backsplash.

My family and large dog living in a small apartment does not sound like much fun, either.

So, I guess it’s one step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Tackle the most pressing problem first. Work to get ahead.

And if I need to ask for help, then I need to ask for help.

If I need to hire someone to do something I don’t know how to do, I’ll hire someone. (And knowing me, I’ll want to watch them work so I can figure out how to do that job the next time).

It’ll have to be something I do daily, not just on the weekends, if I’m ever to get ahead.

And one step at a time, it will be enough. I will make progress on this place.

I will.

So, if my blog is quieter than normal, just know that I’m up to my elbows in caulk, my hands are dirty from the dandelions, and I’m gaining satisfaction from making progress in my real life instead of my online one.

photo by: Micky**

]]> http://www.rubberchickenmadness.com/2013/04/overwhelmed-weekend-warrior-maintenance/feed/ 11 http://www.rubberchickenmadness.com/2013/04/we-will-not-be-silent/ http://www.rubberchickenmadness.com/2013/04/we-will-not-be-silent/#comments Thu, 25 Apr 2013 11:00:18 +0000 RChicken http://www.rubberchickenmadness.com/?p=7621

Many years ago, I remember being at a family function on my former husband’s side of the family.

As conversation tends to do when people are all gathered in one place, the banter turned from pop culture to politics and religion.

And before I knew it, someone was tossing around the N word.

I remember being shocked. Because in my world, raised by my family, such language (and by association, the derogatory meaning of such language) was never part of my upbringing. I quite simply didn’t quite know what to say.

I was new to the family, had my hands full with an infant son, and remember being completely offended, but yet not able to use my voice to declare my offense.

In hindsight, it seemed as though that was the worst possible move. Even if raising my voice to express my horror at the use of derogatory language referring to ANY group of people would have meant alienation from the people who spoke the words, I should have done so.

But I must also remember that in the intervening years, I have worked diligently to make sure that my children never sit by and allow someone to denigrate another person — or group of people.  I have raised children who know how to respectfully raise a question. Who know how to accept others. Who are not threatened by someone being different in color, religious beliefs or sexual orientation.

My children have friends who were born into a gender that doesn’t match their brain. My children have friends of different faiths — everything from fundamental Christianity to atheism. My children have friends of many colors — of skin and of hair. My children do not know the restrictive nature of prejudice and discrimination. They know openness. They know kindness. They know their friends by their names. Not by their labels.

We accept and celebrate the diversity of the people who are connected to our family.

I’m not certain I would have been so determined to make sure that happened unless I had made that one mistake many holiday gatherings ago.

My one-person timidness has evolved to the boldness of three.

And we will not be silent.

If my words have touched your heart today, won’t you please share them?

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