The Sound of Quiet

I try to get up before my kids in the morning.  I like to have some time before I have to be "on."  I like to drink my first cup of coffee as I check Facebook.  Feed my cat.  Wake up a little bit.  And I like the quiet.

Ahhh, quiet.  It's so rare, as a parent, to have quiet.  Silence.  I think parents tend to forget that silence is even a sound.  An option.  So many of the vibrations surrounding me are filled with crying, fighting, whining.  And asking.  And chatter.  Chatter chatter chatterchatterchatter.  


Sometimes, when I'm with my parents or other people who aren't necessarily around kids all the time, I find that I can tune out my kid's noise.  I don't realize I'm doing it until the person I'm with winces.  Usually trying very hard to ignore the screeching.  And that's when the sound hits me.  Like, sometimes when I first wake up, I don't hear the fan.  And then I do.  I don't hear my kids screaming at each other.  And then I do.  I guess it's just my brain's way of taking a moment of silence.  Even amongst all the noise. 

Oprah once said we should have ten minutes of silence a day.  I remember thinking, Ten minutes!  Only a woman with no kids could find ten minutes of silence.  But I agree with her.  When I have some time to enjoy the quiet, especially in the morning, I'm a better person for it.  Well, a better mom, at least. 

My Mug Overfloweth

I was at a family bridal shower yesterday.  My cousin, one of the hostesses, presented a devotion somewhere between opening presents and having cake.  I don't remember all of the Bible verses she referenced, but it was what she had to say about cups overflowing that got my attention.

I have heard that saying all my life.  My cup overfloweth.  I have always thought about it in terms of myself.  My things.  My blessings, too many to count.  How nice for me. It's about me.

But my cousin presented it in a new light.  She said God is the liquid (I imagined coffee, of course).  And it's God pouring into the coffee cup.  And he fills us up.  To the very brim.  And keeps pouring!  As she was talking I was imagining coffee spilling over the sides of my mug.  Spreading over my counter, creeping towards the edges and then cascading over in a golden brown delicious waterfall.  And then she said, "And the liquid spilling over is what we share with others."  Because God has filled us up, we want to share Him.  We want to be the carafe that pours Him into those around us. 

So, as I pour myself a cup of coffee this morning, I'm going to think about how I can pour God into the lives of the people He blesses me with today. 

Vacuuming

We're having some friends over tonight, so I've been cleaning my house so that when they get here they will think that this is how it always looks.  That's why we clean, right?  To fool our guests?  Anyway, as I was vacuuming the basement last night my $1200 Kirby started burning up.  Literally.  It smelled like it was going to explode and when I took the front off (if you have a Kirby then you know what I'm talking about, if you don't, then just bear with me) and the little thingy sticking out was red hot.  Like an iron in the fire hot.  Frick, I thought, now I can't vacuum. 

And then I thought (this time in a happy voice!), Now I can't vacuum! 

I spent yesterday evening, when I would have been vacuuming, not vacumming.  And this morning I kept not vacuuming until I had the bright idea to call Kirby and ask them how I go about getting my very expensive, yet broken, vacuum fixed.  They transferred me to Parts and Services.  The lady told me to check the set up inside the front piece, make sure it's right and then try it again.  I assured her that I had already done that and she insisted that I try again.  "Whatever," I said.  Actually, I said, "Thank you," because I'm polite.  But in my head I said, "Whatever."

I went down to the basement where my smoldering vacuum had sat all night and did as she instructed.  Did the same thing I had done last night and hadn't worked.  Of course, this time it worked.  And now I have to vacuum.  Stupid Kirby.

Currency

Not too long ago I could get my kids to do just about anything "for a high five."  That's right.  Slapping hands.  Up high.  "If you clean the basement I'll give you a high five."  "Brush your teeth and I'll give you a high five."  "Bring mommy her wine and I'll give you a high five."

But, they don't want high fives anymore.  Now they have started asking for things.  Like ice cream.  Or a dollar.  I thought I was so clever.  I wasn't bribing them with food or things.  But I guess I was bribing them, just the same.  And now that they are bigger, and a high five from mom is stupid and for babies, I'm at a loss.  Now we talk a lot about privileges.  Like TV and the Wii.  And that they need to be earned.  And then I end up threatening, and then following through on the threat, to take them away.  But that's punishing me far more than it punishes them! 

One thing that seems to work short term is losing my mind.  Quite literally.  Lately it seems, having all three kids home all day every day, I can't keep up with the mess.  The other day, after my high fives were shunned and Sophie still hadn't brushed her hair and there were still breakfast dishes on the table, I snapped.  "I JUST NEED A LITTLE HELP AROUND HERE!  I CAN'T DO THIS ALL ON MY OWN!"  Their faces reflected the insanity they saw in mine.  And guess what?  Things got done.  Fast. 

But I don't like losing it like that.  I feel guilty later and while the kids are doing what I asked, they are tip-toeing around me like I'm a sleeping dragon they don't want to wake.  And that just makes me feel like a monster.  So, I'll keep working on it.  There has to be a happy medium somewhere.  Right?  And in the mean time, I guess I'll have to get my own wine.  (Just kidding, Mom.  I have always gotten my own wine.)

Truce

I'm declaring a truce with my body.  We've been at war for almost two years now.  Oh.  Who am I kidding.  We've been at war since I turned 13 and started getting boobs, the first sign that my body liked to hang on to fat for dear life.  I've struggled with my weight for most of my life.  You've heard it all before.

I made a fatal mistake a few years ago.  I got really thin.  I was training for the 3Day.  Hardcore.  And without my really trying my body thinned out.  I have never been that fit and trim before.  That lasted for a summer and then that fall I was pregnant with Lily.  I will never know how realistic it was for my body to stay like that long-term.  But that has become my goal.  My unrealistic goal.

I hang on to those clothes in the hopes that I will fit into them someday.  I buy new clothes that are too tight, in the hopes that I will fit into them someday.  I bought a cute white skirt a few months ago.  It almost fits, but gives me a major muffin top and is just tight enough to make me feel uncomfortable.  A few weeks ago I got up early and met up with a couple of my 3Day teammates.  We walked 15 miles.  I came home, showered and got ready for a graduation party we were going to that afternoon.  I put on that white skirt.  It dawned on me later that because of how uncomfortable I was in that stupid skirt, I felt fat.  Even after walking 15 miles in under four hours.  That doesn't add up.

I do a lot of things right.  I eat mostly organic food.  I exercise every day.  Usually for an hour or more.  I cut down on snacking and I have been working on eating fewer carbs.  Our big cheat once (or twice?) a week is Chipolte, and I don't even get cheese, sour cream or guac on my burrito!  This is realistic for me.  And this is what my body looks like.  I need to stop comparing myself to my single, child-free, vegetarian sister.  And I need to stop comparing myself to myself-from-three-years-ago.

I hate when people say things like "You look great for having had three kids." or "You're 35 now."  But I'm starting to see the truth in that.  My body is different than it was in my twenties.  And three kids takes a toll on not only my body, but my time and energy.  Two things I need more of if I want to reach my "goal."   

I'm healthy.  I will never be thin, but I'm not overweight.  And when I wear clothes that fit me, I feel good.  So today I'm going shopping.  I'm going to buy clothes that fit this body.  Not the body I wish I had.  Not the body the media thinks I should have.  But, my body. 

New Do

I accidentally colored my hair.  Well, I colored it on purpose.  And I even purposely chose to do something a little different.  But I didn't mean to do something this different.  Although, it's not different bad.  I like it.  I really like it, actually.  And apparently it's not as different as I thought, as it took my husband three hours to notice.

I wanted to lighten my hair.  Not because blonds have more fun (that's a bunch of hooey) but because I am in a fight against gray hair and the lighter my hair, the less noticeable the little buggers are.  At least that's my philosophy.  So while I wanted lighter, I hadn't anticipated it getting this light.  It's not platinum blond...probably not even blond.  But it's drastically lighter than it was twenty-four hours ago. 

Now here's where I have to fight off not only grays, but also my anxiety.  As I drove home yesterday and snuck little peeks in the rear-view mirror at my new color, I would get a surge of excitement.  Yay, I would think, it's different and fun and summery!  But on the heels of that would be, What will everyone think?  What will Wade think?  What will MY MOM think? 

I went for a walk with my neighbor last night and she noticed right away (thank goodness I didn't have to walk for three hours in this heat!).  I'm one of those people who has a hard time taking a compliment.  She said she really liked it.  While I know the correct response would be to say "thank you," I can never seem to just leave it at that.  I dove into the whole explanation about not expecting it to get so light and does it make me look like I'm trying to look younger and I hate the whole What did you do to your hair? conversation because I can never tell if people are being sincere or just being nice.   

So.  Anyway.  Like my blog and my tattoo and my patio set, I am adding my hair to the growing list of things that I like and I will continue to work on letting that be enough.

Bad Business

I won't do this very often, but I'm giving a bad recommendation to a local company.  We have a sprinkler system and for years we used a "big" company to service it in the spring and fall.  A couple of summers ago we decided to switch to a smaller, local company: Systematic Rain.  We like to support small businesses and they had better rates.  Win.  Win.

I'm not sure what happened.  New management, perhaps, but this year they have been nothing but rude and unreliable.  For instance, earlier this spring when the guy (hereby known as TG) called the house, he asked for my husband.  I explained that Wade was at work and asked if he was calling to set up a time to come out.  He said yes.  I said that I was actually the one he needed to talk to about times.  TG responded, and I quote, "Ha ha ha (totally condescending laughter)...have him call me (totally condescending tone)."  I was livid and told my husband as much.  Wade called TG back and said "Give my wife a call to set up a time to come out."  TG stammered something about doing that soon.  He never called.

Weeks later we finally get an appointment set up and some guy (hereby known as SG) comes out.  He gets the sprinkler system up and running and explains that there are a couple of spots with low pressure, but nothing that should be a problem.  A couple of weeks later SG shows up, completely unannounced, at my front door.  He says he's there to fix a leak.  I know nothing of the leak and nothing about him coming out that day and tell him so.  He leaves.  A few days later we are informed, by our neighbor, that there is a massive leak in our system that is flooding part of his front lawn.  Wade calls.  We never hear back from TG or SG.  We call our "big" company (which I just earned is also local).  They were out two days later and have everything fixed.

Today, just a moment ago, as a matter of fact, I happen to look out my front window and see a man with two huge shovels walking across my lawn.  Not to my front door, but headed to the spot where the leak used to be.  I saw his Systematic Rain truck parked on the street.  No appointment.  No warning phone call.  I ran out to stop him before he dug up my front yard.  "We had a different company come out to take care of that," I said.  "Oh, " he said,  "Perfect."  Not a sarcastic perfect.  But a friendly, glad-you-got-it-taken-care-of-by-someone-other-than-us perfect.  What?

Is it just me?  Are my expectations too high?  Not returning phone calls and speaking like a male chauvinist pig to someone who wants to pay you money don't seem like traits on which to build a successful company.  Anyway, I guess the grass is always greener with the other sprinkler company.