this plus that

On our weekly library trips, Puddin' and I have a routine. She picks out books with recognizable characters - Dora, Blue, Ms. Frizzle, etc. - and I find an equal number of picture books from the stacks. Often, she focuses her attention on the series books and ignores my choices. She'll let us read one as a bedtime story but they aren't her daytime playtime books. Every once in a while, though, I find one that captures her attention. this plus that is one of those books. Here's the trailer:

(Since when do books have trailers? It's an odd world we live in.)

Reading this book with Puddin' this morning I came across the words "good days + bad days = real life" and "once upon a time + happily ever after = pretend." Honestly, we all know that, right? This shouldn't be news but some days I need a reminder. Today, those words smacked me upside the head. Today, whether it's a nine-scoop-ice-cream-cone day or a trip-and-the-scoops-scatter day, it's going to be ok, because it's real.

Crazy Wins

Crazy keeps popping out all over the place, especially in my life. I'm starting to wonder if crazy is normal and sane is aberrant. Neatly controlled utopia is an obvious myth but is it possible to even get close?

I've spent a lot of energy in the past 6 months trying to fight the crazy. It's not going well. The more I fight, the more my routines and relationships are out of sync. There's so much crazy, I just can't handle cleaning. There's so much crazy, I can't be held accountable for what I eat. There's so much crazy, I don't have time for a run. There's so much crazy, I'd better not try to write. I've been so afraid of the crazy - both inside and out - that I stood stock still and let it invade. I've become a crazy zombie, feeding on sane brains, passing on the crazy with each passing day.

You know what? Crazy wins. I give in. Maybe by giving in and admitting that I've gone crazy I can reset the norms and use crazy for good. It's got to be possible, right? Crazy can be good. Crazy can be whimsical and fun. Crazy can be creative. Crazy can be inventive. Crazy can provide new ideas.

So that's my new goal. I'm giving in to the crazy but I'm not giving up. There will be crazy amounts of good in our family life again, as soon as I figure out how  to corral the stuff.

Thanks, Doc.

We had a well-check at the pediatrician today. They called us back almost on time, the nurse did her thing, and we were told the doctor would be right with us. After a long wait, I started to get annoyed - not really annoyed but just enough to wonder whether this is a doctor we want to continue seeing. We finally gave in and started eating our snack. Almost immediately, we heard the knock on the door. "I'm sorry for your long wait. The patient before you presented with a couple issues. He was born with his intestines on the outside."

I stopped chewing for a moment and pondered. The doctor continued, quickly but with attention to detail. He remarked frequently on how polite, well-behaved, and healthy Puddin' was. Our Dear Doctor seemed to find comfort in the unremarkable normality of his current patient. As for me, the assertive, independent behavior that had driven me crazy all morning was shining brilliantly in the glow of normal human development.

I'll never know him, but that unnamed kid was definitely worth thirty minutes of my time. Blessings to you, little guy. I hope you grow up well. With compassionate folks like Dear Doctor looking after you, you've got a good chance.

Wide Open Outer Petals

Once upon a time, back in my college days, some friends and I were sitting around being deep. We sat in an urban garden, looking at early signs of spring while wrapped up tight against the New England cold. We took turns sharing what we found revealed in the world around us. That kind of introspection isn't as easy anymore, what with the noise and the busyness of family life, but the insight of that day still comes back to me each spring.

What I saw that day was a daffodil. The warm colors draw me in and invite me to stop. The wide open petals of the outer layer hold arms wide open, calling out a welcome to anyone and everyone. The closed inner layer adds complexity, privacy, and a space set apart.

Over the past few months, I've been almost silent in the social media world. I've withdrawn from all networks and kept all my words to myself. It turns out that books are far more interesting than Facebook and that there's a lot of navel-gazing on web 2.0 that I just don't care about. In addition, there's been some rough stuff in our family over the past few months that made privacy feel important. In the midst of the current online privacy hullaballoo, social media was a risk I wasn't willing to take, so I closed my outer petals.

Meanwhile, spring has sprung. Daffodils are blooming all over our neighborhood. At our house, we transplanted over 200 daffodil sprouts from their overcrowded spot on the fence line to spacious new homes in garden beds around the yard. I've watched our plants closely, looking for signs that the growing bulbs have all they need to thrive. Most won't bloom this year since they didn't get enough sun last year to store energy. A hearty few, though, have buds. Despite my expectations, our daffodils are blooming.

Recently, I shared with not-so-close friends about a struggle I've been having and found that my openness led to a deeper friendship. Open petals invited connection, sharing, and understanding. I knew this. I've known this for years. Open petals bring nurishment to the inner soul.

So here I am, back online. I still don't know how to navigate the ever-changing world of online privacy but I know that its worthwhile.

A Sign for the Times

I have one resolution for this new year. I resolve to return my library books on time. I paid enough in library fines this past year to buy a new bookshelf, which I need, because we have piles of books all over our house. We love books and read lots of them but with the great abundance, we don't always finish them on time, partly because we can't always find them.

I have also sort of resolved not to resolve things but that doesn't count as a resolution because I'm not doing resolutions any more. Instead, I'm working on enjoying my life as it currently is. This year I'm looking again at who I am but the big difference lies in accepting who I am today as worthy. Worthy of effort, worthy of attention, and worth a chance.

When I'm tempted to plan ahead and make goals I'm instead trying to stop and value what is here and now. When I want to say I'm not good enough I'm trying to stop and find strength in my actions. When I take a dream to the impossible extreme I'm trying to stop and find stepping stones that lead slowly in the direction I want to go. It's not an easy outlook for me but it's worth it. Worthy of effort, worthy of attention, and worth a chance.

The thing is, I enjoy plans. I like getting my new calendar each year and writing in all the recurring data with color-coded ink. Office supplies make excellent stuffers for my stocking. The kicker comes a little down the road, however. I'm not such a big fan of keeping to the plans and then I end up feeling stressed, out-of-control, and convinced I'm a loser.

Last spring I had a similar moment, where I decided to see the chaos as a slide I willingly ride rather than a cycle I can't escape. I did quite well with my bliss for a while there. This autumn, however, I let myself get caught up in a bunch of changes and drama that happened around our family. The slide stopped being fun and again became an endless loop of pain. It's time to stop, breathe, and take in the abundance of good that each day brings.

I also need to stop and finish reading some of those books - as soon as I find them - and eek! They're due in just two days!

Genuis and Faith

Over Thanksgiving we were in the Outer Banks, celebrating my dad's birthday. While there we visited the Wright Brothers Memorial.

In case you can't read it, the big word carved into stone there is GENIUS. I asked Stan to pose there and this is what I got. To me, it's perfect. Stan doesn't always relax for pictures but here he looks so comfortable and at ease. Stan is most himself when he's in the world of genius, caught up in the startlingly profound thoughts inside his head.

I have enough genius to hold my own but it's not the place where I thrive. On another corner of the memorial, there's a word that better describes the world I live in. Stan has plenty of faith on his own but of the two of us, I'm much more comfortable with psyche and spirit.

My thoughts are allegory where Stan's are algebra. I like questions and Stan likes answers. We play off each other's ideas and help each other understand. Together, we bring a fullness to life that separately we could never achieve. Together, there is hope that we may find even some small measure of the success the Wright Brothers achieved.

(If you look closely you'll see that I'm slightly uphill from Stan and on my tiptoes. 4 inch heels are helpful for good photos but just won't do for sightseeing.)

A Meal to Be Thankful For

In church this Sunday we talked about world hunger. The speaker - Rev. Paul Montacute - is a regular member of our church who flies around the world with Baptist World Aid, trying to make a difference for folks in need.  Paul ended his sermon by having the congregation snap in time. As we snapped, he reminded us that for each snap, a child somewhere in the world dies of hunger-related causes.

Monkey and Peanut stopped snapping and looked at me with horror on their faces. Sure, they've heard about this before. They're accustomed to the idea of collecting money for world hunger, or giving and sorting non-perishable foods for local distribution. They know the facts but the reality never sunk in. Suddenly, they see how big a deal it really is.

This Thanksgiving, in addition to filling up a rice bowl with the family's spare change, we want to share with Monkey and Peanut (and Puddin' as she can understand) a little more about what it feels like to be in need. Tonight we're going to have a meal where the only thing available is rice, a few lentils and a glass of clean water. This simple meal - almost fasting compared to our normal fare - would be a luxury in some parts of the world. Tomorrow morning, we get to have our fill again at breakfast but most of the world's hungry don't get that option.

This year, Stan and I want our kids to see what a blessed life they really live. Even though we don't have all the latest gadgets or coolest clothes, we have an abundance far beyond our needs. We hope that they will learn to give thanks and praise in all circumstances - in need, in want, and in abundance.

For any who are interested, here are some of the resources we're using:

• Feeding Minds, Fighting Hunger has maps, facts, lesson plans, aimed at elementary kids and teenagers.
• Bread For the World has articles on causes of hunger and poverty, big picture solutions, ways for individuals to get involved, and this little miracle food kids can relate to.
• There are lots of ways to show what global food distribution looks like. Here's a story of how one couple shared a hunger feast.
• Free Rice challenges kids to different sorts of questions and gives away grains of rice for each correct answer. A simple (brain-enriching) way for kids to take part.
• The Water Project has games and lessons for kids of various ages to teach them the importance of water and how it impacts people in poverty.
• And for those who like a tear-jerker, here's a page of stories from hunger-stricken areas around the world. Have your tissue box handy.

Blessings to you all. May you have happy and thankful days ahead.

The Nearness of You

Puddin' sings random songs all day long. Sometimes the songs narrate her day but more often, they are words and sounds strung together in nonsense phrases. Today, in the midst of one of these songs, Puddin' sang the line "it's all ok and I know you love me even when you're not here" and then morphed back into the Dali-esque lyrics she's known for. I took a moment to soak that one in. She knows that she is loved, regardless of whether or not the people offering that love are tangibly present.

Folks often marvel at how well Puddin' expresses herself. Stan and I marvel at how self-aware she is. This tiny person has grasped the concept that love doesn't require physical nearness and has learned enough words to put that deep thought into words that clearly express it. And then she put it to music. I hope to God that she can keep these realizations as she grows.

Then, of course, she starts into something like "that chocolate comes from cows. I only like chocolate that comes from cows," and sets me off on a totally different sort of marveling.

Soundtrack of a Meltdown

Earlier this week I had a meltdown. The kids were each whining, ignoring, disobeying, or something of that ilk - all at the same time - and it was just too much. I put myself in timeout, pounded my pillows, stomped on the floor, whisper screamed all the things I'm not supposed to actually say, then wiped my tears and went to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

I sat in my favorite chair just long enough to drink my tea and, while there, listened to my ipod on shuffle. My ipod must have been eavesdropping on my afternoon because the next five songs were each in their own way a perfect accompaniment to the emotional angst of my moment. Here is the soundtrack of my meltdown:


"Not Pretty Enough" by Kasey Chambers
Am I not pretty enough
Is my heart to broken
Do I cry too much
Am I too outspoken
Don't I make you laugh
Should I try it harder
Why do you see right through me

I live, I breathe, I let it rain on me
I sleep, I wake, I try hard not to break
I crave, I love, I've waited long enough
I try as hard as I can


"Time After Time" by Eva Cassidy
Sometimes you picture me--
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said--
Then you say--go slow--
I fall behind--
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look--and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting
Time after time

"Once You've Loved Somebody" by The Dixie Chicks
I should go out tonight
Get on with my life
Break these chains of solitude
With a little luck and a little help
I might even find myself
In the arms of someone new

Once you've loved somebody
It ain't that easy to do
Once you've loved somebody
Like I loved you

"Down In Flames" by Mindy Smith
I would tell you I am happy
If I wasn't so damn sad
And the loneliness both overwhelms and keeps me empty
That's how it's been for a while

And life's so hard
It's the little things that seem to be getting me today, yeah
Life's so hard
But I'm doing what I can to not to be getting down
I'm going down in flames
Going down in flames

I need some direction
I need someone to listen
Someone to tell me that they know

"What it Means to Love" by Meredith Andrews
How could I forget Your face
When all it took was just one day
For me to see it wasn't ordinary
I could never be the same

You took my hand and led the way
I didn't even know Your name
But something happened deep inside me
And I knew life would have to change

So how could I go back to life as usual
And how could I return to who I once was
I just want to take your story to the world
‘Cause you have shown me what it means to love

You healed the sick, You calmed the sea
But Your heart was for the least of these
You came to love the lost and broken
Your cross has set the captive free

Now I no longer live for myself
Your words are so clear
Help me live it loud enough so they can hear 

In the space of five songs, I wondered what I had done wrong, and how I could be better; I marveled at the misty changes from the beautiful love we used to share; I contemplated leaving them; I wallowed in the pain and sadness; and then I remembered the love that empowers me to get up from my comfy chair and cook the little rugrats dinner. We were all just fine from that point on. Thank God for grace, tea, and good music.

Sweater in a heat wave

Heady perfume of pee and sweat. Walking, wandering, shifting, moving. Rock pillows, bench slat beds. Nothing for blankets but whatever you own. Sweater in a heatwave, fully dressed in August so no one steals your life while you nap. Scrap dinners and hand out snacks. Longing for fruit but getting starbursts. Eventually the longing ends. Constipation, coughs, cancor sores, callouses. No conversation, no touching. Skin longs for skin, mind longs for mind. Only yourself to depend on until you finally give up. Fear of people - will he molest me? Will she snub me? Will they lock me up? Life survived but not lived. Tomorrow can't be better but can easily be worse.

Playing Favorites

I don't have favorites. No favorite color, food, song, nothing. I even found myself saying one day that my husband was "one of my favorites" because I have so conditioned myself not to have favorites.

I get asked about favorites fairly often and often struggle to defend my lack of answer. It's not that I don't care, I promise. I'm not apathetic to life. I care deeply about the world around me. I want lots of color, lots of food, lots of song, everything. I just don't want to be fenced in. I refuse to choose and thereby let go of the chance to have all the others. If I choose a favorite color does that mean that folks will bring me only that color? If I have a favorite food does that mean I have to have that for every occasion? I don't want to miss out on any of the goodness life has to offer.

Today I'm wondering, though: am I too open-minded? I'm a musician but I don't have a favorite kind of music. I can play bits of different kinds of music but there's not much I do exceptionally well. I like to write but I dabble with visual arts as well. Like an un-cropped photo, I try to fit in everything. Would my artistic endeavors have more substance if I were willing to cut some things out?

I used to think that jack-of-all-trades was a good thing, until I learned the rest of the phrase: master of none. I'm no longer satisfied with the jack's freedom to dabble; I'm ready for mastery. To that end, I'm going to go on record here - on the internet that never forgets anything - to name a few favorites.

• My favorite music is jazz.
• My favorite foods come from Latin America
• My favorite color is yellow. And orange. Wait, can I have green too?

This might take a while. I'm working on it though, because I'm no jack.

Path of Bliss

"The more altruism we develop in a day, the more peaceful we find  ourselves. Similarly, the more self-centered we remain, the more  frustrations and trouble we encounter."
Dalai Lama, from Path of Bliss
I'm testing blogging from my phone today. There are quite a few things to ponder in that statement alone but I also stumbled upon this quote, which I've been meaning to ruminate on. Sitting in a peaceful spot with my coffee, I've decided to test the quote. Will the children - not to mention the general public - cooperate?

Error Codes

Blogger (blogspot) has not been functioning terribly well this week. There was some update that went badly and then they had to restore to a previous state. Most of this has been fixed but somewhere in the midst of it, my blogger profile is tainted. I finally figured out how to get into editing and posting through a few sneaky tricks but if I try the official method I end up with a variety of error codes. This got me thinking ... what if there were error codes parenting?

ERROR_ARENA_TRASHED
There are too many toys in this room.

ERROR_BAD_ENVIRONMENT
Someone is cleaning your room today. Who will it be?

ERROR_TOO_MANY_THREADS
There are 17 dirty pairs of underwear under your dresser.

ERROR_CHILD_NOT_COMPLETE
Homework must be complete before dancing naked down the hall.

ERROR_ARITHMETIC_OVERFLOW
Each child is responsible for her own homework.

ERROR_WAIT_NO_CHILDREN
Tell a parent where you are going before you leave.

ERROR_NESTING_NOT_ALLOWED
Worms stay in the dirt - the outside dirt.

ERROR_NO_VOLUME_LABEL
Spiders are not grounds for shrieking.

ERROR_SHARING_VIOLATION
Do not steal the preschooler's toys.

RPC_S_PROXY_ACCESS_DENIED
Proper identification required for Mama's 4-inch heels.

ERROR_DEVICE_DOOR_OPEN
Close the fridge. Close it. Really. Close the fridge NOW!

ERROR_NOT_ENOUGH_QUOTA
Eat your vegetables.

ERROR_BAD_FUNCTION_TABLE
You left dishes on dinner table for someone else to clean up.

ERROR_VIRUS_INFECTED
Washing hands after potty is not optional.

ERROR_ILLEGAL_FLOAT_CONTEXT
Flush the potty.

ERROR_ATOMIC_LOCKS_NOT_SUPPORTED
Your hair is still full of shampoo bubbles.

ERROR_NETWORK_BUSY
Stop interrupting my sentence.

ERROR_EXTRANEOUS_INFORMATION
I don't need to know what color shoes your teacher wore today.

ERROR_BAD_ARGUMENTS
Don't make me settle this. You don't like my solutions.

WAIT_TIMEOUT
Next time settle the argument for yourselves.

ERROR_FAIL_SHUTDOWN
Go back to bed and stay there this time.

ERROR_NO_INHERITANCE
Just you wait.

That should get me started. What error messages would you like to see for your daily life?

Sliding Through

Lately I've felt like I'm falling. I haven't been able to piece together enough time to get all the good or important stuff done. I keep thinking there's just one more busy week to get through but then another appears.

Last night I felt the weight of 20 years on me - as in, we're going to be having these same struggles almost daily for the next 20 years. What an utterly depressing thought. 20 more years of flailing as I fall into the abyss, waiting for solid ground.

But tonight a different thought occurred to me: what if it's not falling but sliding? What if the spasms of terror, the pitted stomachs and the sloshy perspective are all just part of the joy in the ride? As we give in to gravity and the laws of physics we find ourselves on a ride that brings excitement. As I give in to the laws of human nature and accept the relationships around me, I find myself on a ride that brings unexplainable pleasure.

Like going down a slide, I willingly put myself into the position of fear and anxiety again for the rush that comes with momentum. And like the slide, I know that I'll soon enough hit solid ground - and climb right back up the ladder to do it all again.

Post 101

In my couch-ridden flurry of words yesterday I managed to get up to 100 blog posts. I like marking milestones so here I sit, writing post #101

In the academic world, 101 signifies the basics or an introduction. Writers and publishers often use 101 as a seemingly random number meaning a lot. [101 Uses for Cow Manure; 101 Ways to Save the Astroturf; 101 Questions to Ask Your Future In-Laws.] Of course, I'm also required by marital vows to know that 101 = 5 in binary.

5, as a discussion topic, isn't going to get me very far. [Unless you want to hear about my upcoming birthday - on the 5th of a winter month. I'm a big fan but am honest enough to admit that most of the rest of the world doesn't care.] I don't want to spend time coming up with 101 examples of anything so that idea is right out. I guess that leaves me with the back-to-basics idea.

I went back and re-read some early posts to remind myself why I set out to blog in the first place. Here's how I described myself in my very first post: I'm introverted, quiet, serious. I am independent. I crave solitary contemplation and study. I'm also married with two gorgeous step-daughters, a precocious toddler, a dog and a cat. I'm outnumbered....My reason for writing is simply to stake my claim, to stand my ground, to try to keep my sense of self and my sanity in the midst of loving these voracious minds and hearts. I love my family and I love my life. Mama just needs a little space.

A year and a half later, many of those needs are still the same. There doesn't seem to be a whole lot of sanity to spare but I'm grateful for my little space away from the high volume of life. Thanks for coming to visit me here. And if you find any spare serenity feel free to send some my way.

11 Things for 2011

Puddin' and I have been fighting a cold for a few weeks and since neither of us have been very good about sitting still and resting, we're both still struggling with the nasty cough.  We got through Peanut's birthday yesterday (Happy birthday my dear!) and her humongo nutrition project is almost done. I've got to rest up quick so I can get to work planning her Mystery Mansion birthday party coming up soon.

So, since I'm confined to the couch for the day, I'm spending WAY too much time online. I can finally get to that New Year's post I've been meaning to write.

I don't do standard New Year resolutions. I don't like putting that kind of pressure on myself. I do enjoy pondering and planning though. A new year gives me a good excuse for reflecting and setting some goals. Here are some things Stan and I would like in the coming year:

1. Play more games as a family
2. Let the kids get messy with crafts
3. Share my passions with the family
4. Incorporate scripture into our daily lives
5. Practice music more often
6. Laugh more when the kids are around
7. Be creative daily
8. Read the pile of parenting books by my bed
9. Get out and hike
10. Give the kids more one-on-one time
11.  Let the kids make their own mistakes

Helping Hands

"We all know well that we can do things for others and in the process, crush them, making them feel that they are incapable of doing things by themselves. To love someone is to reveal to them their capacities for life, the light that is shining in them." - Jean Vanier

Peanut is having a hard year at school. She's in a challenging program and for the first time in her life, she can't do everything on the first try. She's not the best in her class. She has to think deeper than before to find the why & the how behind the answers. Homework, which used to be a blur of quick mastery, has become a battle. When faced with work that requires more than pat answers, Peanut whines and cries and begs for help. It's easy to see that helping her - by which Peanut means tell her exactly how to arrive at the answer - crushes her ability to master the material. Loving Peanut means helping her see that she is capable.

In other areas of life, however, those lines aren't as clear. I'm a willing musician and I take joy from playing, especially in our church services. But if I step in to play guitar at every gap in the schedule, am I undermining someone else's chance to join in? I appreciate hearing another person's perspective because it helps me see the larger scope of  an issue. However, if I listen to a person's gripes, am I cutting off his motivation to do something about the problem? When I see someone hurting I long to draw that person in and hold her in a warm embrace; I want her to feel safe and accepted. But if I stand by someone in crisis without calling him to take action, am I reinforcing his belief that he is powerless?

I'm striving to value the person underneath the stress rather than how I feel when I'm helpful. I'm struggling with the guilt and helplessness I feel when I don't step in to resolve a problem presented to me. Little by little, I'm learning to love others in a way that reveals the light shining within.

To find out more about Jean Vanier check out his entry on Wikipedia. His words are even more powerful in the fuller context of his life. This quote - and most others from my blog - came from a daily email sent out by Sojourners.

All Good Gifts

I skipped a whole month of blogging. November happened here in our house but I just wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Things were mostly good, even when they were hectic, but I still didn't feel like sharing.

Now December is here. We started lighting Advent candles. The Christmas decorations are going up little by little. There is much Christmas music in the house. Much of the shopping is done. I've started the heavy allergy meds. [Sidenote - with the help of a recently rediscovered friendship and the other allergists she works with, we might figure out what the deal with the Christmas tree allergy is. At the very least, I'm hopeful that I'll make it to Christmas Eve without bronchitis this year.]

Because of the way the custody schedule fell this year, we haven't had much recreative time with Monkey & Peanut. I've missed weekend time with them. So much of our everyday time is spent with to-dos and planners. Monkey is sometimes surprised to hear me laugh because in the midst of the school routines she forgets that there's a side of me that would rather scrap it all and just have some fun. Deep down I just want to curl up on the sofa with her and read a good book together but responsible parenting prevails. [We started Harry Potter & the Sorcerer's Stone almost two months ago and we're still only half way through. We need weekend time for that alone, even without all the other stuff.]

Tonight we set aside the schedule and had family time. We lit our Advent wreath and talked about how we wait in hope for the good that Jesus brings. We sang our invitation to Emmanuel - a little too loudly for Monkey's taste. Then we played a board game and drank coffee together. (Puddin' got milk, I promise.) We laughed and talked and tried to touch our noses with our tongues. We sent the kids to bed an hour late.

I'm still not feeling particularly verbose about our goings-on here. I feel like protecting the time, keeping it close and holding it sacred. Holidays are for sharing, though, and my lovely sister-in-law has chastised me for holding out on her.

So for each of you out there - I wish you hope & peace, joy & love, as you go through each day of this holiday season. I'm on the lookout for these good things in my world and will cheerfully share what I find. I'd love to hear what good you come across as well.

Saved by grace

I weep a lot. I thank God I laugh a lot, too. The main thing in one's own private world is to try to laugh as much as you cry.
- Maya Angelou

This week, I had a major & public parenting failure. There was screaming. A well-meaning stranger tried to help. Instead of letting her, I slunk away with my confused children in tow. The woman's words have led to huge amounts of shame, resentment, and anger but most importantly to soul-searching.

I've been trying too long to be perfect. Being a good mom to intelligent, beautiful daughters is a hard job. There are a thousand ways to second-guess myself every day. Being stepmom is even harder. I feel like "good" isn't enough. There's always someone watching. If someone is feeling punitive on a day I make a mistake then we could all end up in court, redrafting the custody agreement. Therefore, I can't make mistakes. To be good enough as a stepmom means perfection. And perfection for stepmom means perfection for kids. Monkey wouldn't have made that mistake if I had coached her a little more with her homework. Peanut would have done better on the test if I had made sure she was in bed on time. The harder I try to reach the bar, the further we move away from it.

Peanut is a people-pleaser so she's done her darnedest to reach the standard. She'll wear what she's told, read what she's told, think what she's told. Of course, switching from house to house those things she's being told change a few times each week. She's still trying, though. She wants to be perfect so that we'll love her more. Even typing that sentence breaks my heart. She has no concept of how wonderful she really is, much less what things make her uniquely so.

Monkey, on the other hand, is completely her own person. She will not be anything other than who she is. She is not normal and has zero interest in going there. Her reaction to the perfection stress has been to flout every standard but turn around and throw the bossy perfectionist stress back at the rest of the family. She's learned that imperfect people still get to demand perfection from others.

The ugly flip side of this is that there is another woman who loves these children madly and who is doing the best she knows how for them. On my good days I wish her well and assume the best of her. On other days I criticize and judge. I rehash her actions, count her mistakes, and scrutinize her motivations. I wish I had more good days but I'm too busy trying to hide my imperfection.

The day after my ugly, screaming tantrum was rainy. Puddin' and I were off to pick up Monkey from school and Puddin' asked to wear her boots. Puddin' is a puddle jumper. A block before the school there's a deep muddy puddle that delights her little soul. I let her jump and run and twirl her umbrella. Monkey came along and together we stood, watching Puddin's joy. Perfect-mom cried out that Monkey should go straight to work on her homework but I let Puddin's laughter drown the nagging voice. I let out a deep laugh at a particularly exuberant leap and Monkey commented that she never sees me laugh like that. On my good days I laugh a lot. I wish I had more good days.

Stan and I have recently started talking with the kids about the difference between living in a perfect world where mistakes are punished and a grace-filled world where mistakes are forgiven. We are all - parents and children both - trying to choose grace. Grace, like muddy puddles, brings delight to our souls.

Beauty vs. Drama: Battle of the Queens

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting. - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I have beautiful kids. I live in a beautiful part of the world. My handsome husband has a beautiful soul. I have some beautiful shoes. There is much beauty to behold in my world.

Sometimes I have trouble seeing beauty because there's too much drama in the way. Emotional drama does a good job of obliterating the joy of a beautiful moment. Kid drama sucks the life out of me like no other since I'm reminded that I'll be spending time with them for many years to come, whether or not they've outgrown these behaviors.

One of the kids got mad at school when she lost a game so she threw the game pieces across the room. Her lack of self-control makes for intense, hard to process drama. Another kid feels her emotion bodily so every negative emotion becomes a stomach or headache. Eventually, in dramatic fashion, stress becomes vomit.  And, of course, toddlers are pretty much designed for drama. Me-do-it turns to screaming rant in seconds, often without warning or obvious way out.

It's not all drama, of course. I love the beautiful glow on their faces when they feel proud. I love the beautiful toddler run. I love the beautiful curiosity & creativity. I love the beautiful ambition to do more each day. I love beautiful moments when none of them around.

Kid-free moments bring hope for serenity. Kid-free beauty can be savored in quiet rather than experienced prosaically.  Kid-free time brings freedom to explore without fear of destruction.

This weekend Stan and I will have a blissful 24 hours kid-free. We don't have any fancy plans but the simplicity is part of the beauty. We will pluck tasks from our to-do lists, seek out creative expression, and enjoy the vast silence. Life is already looking more beautiful, just knowing that for a brief time - and soon - we will not be outnumbered.