Little Problems, Big World = No Big Deal (sort of)

We were on the driveway, almost ready to go for a walk yesterday morning when I heard the sound of an engine and then the thunderous sound of wood crack, snapping and popping in our back yard. 

I was certain I would open the gate to find half the fence toppled over and laying on the grass. But this is all I found.

This monstrosity hit our fence. And this is where it still sits.

Unfortunately, it looks much worse from the alley because they hit the post that is holding up the gate and it took the brunt of the blow.

I guess that says a lot for the structural integrity of the fence, doesn't it? To be hit with a machine the that size and still be standing?!

My next question is: "Who do I trust to fix this?" Somehow the consolation I received from the guy who ran into the fence, "I will fix it within the next few days" seems to be "not enough" for me. I want an experienced fence-builder to do the job. Not the guy who knocked it down.

It is a little thing, but it was my biggest problem within my insulated little world yesterday.

I'm pretty lucky, aren't I??

Still Colleen

I titled this post almost a month ago but the words didn't follow.

This morning, a few shared posts on the importance of recognizing the signs of a stroke on my Facebook feed reminded me of one of my greatest worries. Brain injury.

I had no understanding of the words "brain damage" until Dad survived a heart attack, but his brain did not. He stopped breathing and his heart stopped. He was revived after fifteen minutes. But fifteen minutes was too long. The damage was irreversible. We lost the essence of our dad that night even though his body mightily fought on and survived.

You hear of miraculous survival stories. You hear less about those who survived but never lived again.

One of my biggest fears is being held hostage in a body without a fully functional brain.

A head injury caused due to an accident could happen in the blink of an eye. There are illnesses of the brain - Alzeimer's disease, cancer, tumors, stroke and inherited conditions. Not to mention the myriad of other diseases that hold a healthy and vital brain captive inside of a body that gives out.

I don't obsess about my fears but every time my life is touched in some way by someone who is faced with a condition of the brain which is out of their control, my fears seep to the brim of my consciousness again.

My mind wanders as I think of those who are walking that very walk as I type. I simply cannot comprehend what it must feel like to be in their shoes right now. Nor the shoes of the family and friends who are their support system.

I watched "Still Alice" almost a month ago and it was a movie that struck a chord deep inside of myself.

"Alice" knew she had early stage Alzeimer's disease and while she was able, she devised many ways to feel like she had a sense of control over a disease which encroaches on its victim without mercy.

I watched her make a video, talking to herself in the future, at a time when she no longer held onto her own sense of self or memories or ability to function in a fashion she was accustomed to functioning.

I have often joked that I write everything down in case the day comes when I don't know who I am any more. I will be able to sit down and read about who I used to be ...

I have sat on the sidelines of my life, watching and empathizing with those who are waging a war against a brain disorder. Whether it is physical or psychological or a trauma to the brain, it is all so very delicate.

I cannot imagine how it feels when life as you know it spins out of control and you feel powerless to change where you are at.

If I ever become a stranger to myself and lose my way, what would I tell myself?

I would hope I would be kinder to that stranger than I am to the person who I wake up with each morning and live with all day.

Presently I tell the-person-within, that she doesn't do enough, isn't kind enough, doesn't reach out enough, doesn't care enough, doesn't work enough, and simply isn't as good as she is capable of being. She beats herself up over not keeping up appearances - whether it is a spotless and well maintained home or tending to maintaining the body she is presently living in.

In the future, I would like to forgive that person and remind her that she tried enough. She made the effort to be enough and reach out and touch those around her. She did her best and was the best mom she could be at the time, to each one of her children.

I would like to applaud that person for caring less about clean windows and fresh paint and cared more about spending her energy on taking what she needed to give to herself so she had a little bit left over to share with others.

I do not write to prove that I existed. My dirty little secret is that I write just in case I need to remind myself of who I once was.

I need to know that I did my best while I was at my best and that I forgave myself for all the rest.

What I need to tell myself at this very moment in time, is that the parts of your body that need your time and attention are not your hair, nails and feet. It is your overall body. Get out there and move and stretch and flex those muscles.

Sitting here in my computer chair has become my most comfortable place to be. I know I need to get out and use the rest of my muscles so I don't lose what I already have.

I am "Still Colleen" in this very moment and I should be paying more attention to the present than worrying over that which is out of my control.

Colleen, just wake up in the morning and do your best. Your best will change from day to day. But don't neglect your body, mind and soul. Nourish those and the rest will come.

Forgive yourself just a little bit more and talk to your present self the way you would talk to a future "you" who has no idea who you used to be.

My heart aches for those who are walking down a tough and challenging and twisty path right now. I have no idea what are the right things to say or do. I just want to walk beside you and be your friend when you need one.

Our health is everything when we have it. Be kind to yourself today.

The Quietest Weekend

As I sit here and look around the house, forty five minutes before my work week is scheduled to begin, everything looks exactly the same as it did the moment my work week ended Friday afternoon.

Nothing has been vacuumed or cleaned or picked up or rearranged in the house. The lawn has not been mowed. Groceries have not been bought.

It is like the weekend did not exist. Except it did.

Since 5:30 Friday night, I have not poked my head out the door, excluding a twelve hour "Saturday" which included work, travel time and a trek out to my son's farm for an "egg pick-up" errand (and supper).

As I drove home on the last leg of Saturday evening, getting home 12-1/2 hours after I left it that morning, I felt as empty as my gas tank.

It was as if two hours of conversation took all that I had and it disappeared into thin air with little to show for it except for bugs splattered all over my freshly washed car.

What I should have done with that empty tank Sunday morning, was go out and fill it up again.

But I didn't.

I parked myself on the couch and read a book. And slept. And read. And ate. And read. And slept. I was on a continual loop. All day.

By 7:00 p.m., I had finished reading my book and we had not yet had supper. The lawn was not mowed. Groceries had not been bought.

I looked in the fridge and thought "good enough". We have milk to get us through today. We have enough food in the house to get us through a few months.

I found my "budget spreadsheet" open on the computer this morning and when I went to update this past weekend's spending onto it, I realized the only money I had spent all weekend was $5.05. It was a very frugal weekend in more ways than one.

I was "cheap" with my money, my words and my outbound letters/emails/phone calls. I have retreated "within" a lot lately and that is not an entirely good thing.

A person needs to expend a little energy to refuel their own resources. Just as I need to spend some money to fill that half empty gas tank and scrub some bugs off the windshield, I need to spend some energy and surround myself with friendship to refill my own personal "tank".

I use every excuse in the book to justify these "lost weekends". I have every "Saturday" accounted for until August 8th and I think that is what is dragging me down. I seem to be hoarding my "Sundays" in an attempt to regain that lost weekend day. Except my strategy is not working.

I'm waking up on "empty" this morning. It is time to find a strategy to reorganize my resources and fill up on what needs to be filled.

I hear my day on the doorstep right now. It is time for my work week to begin.

Do I Expect Too Much?

I read something on Facebook and now I can't find it for the life of me. Maybe I dreamt it. It spoke to the guilt complex that drives me, whispers in my ear and taunts me all day, every day as I "rule my daycare world".

This little memo on Facebook (or my guilty imagination) went something like this: "Two year olds don't sit still; two year olds don't share; two year olds don't do about a million (okay, maybe only five) other things that I try to teach my two year olds to do and say each and every daycare day."

It went on to say that two year olds need to explore and climb and touch everything and basically all of the things I let my two year olds (and younger and older) do in a very controlled environment.

I read this and was consumed with something akin to guilt but it came off more as an accusing rebuttal to each and every point I read on the original post.

Do I really expect too much of my little people?

I tell them almost each and every day. "Your job is to be kind to each other and to be happy", it is as simple (and as hard) as that. I guess I should add "And don't break my house or my toys while you are being kind and happy".

I have limits and guidelines and no-kid-zones. I discourage running, screaming and rough housing in the house. Even outside, I like a "hands off" rule when it comes to kids man handling each other.

Do I micromanage my days? Possibly so. Do I make myself crazy while doing so? Probably. Do I have to do what I do and how I do it, to ensure we are all still standing at the end of the day? I believe this is my truth.

I've had parents question little bumps, bruises and scratches. I like to see with my own eyes what is happening throughout the day so I can explain any imperfection a parent may notice.

I have turned my back and had children "go wild" and climb toys that were never meant to be climbed and throw things that I have found in places where no toy should be found and someone ends up crying and I don't know the whole story and about a million other things.

So yes, I do my best to be 100% accountable but it is impossible to see all, know all and do all when you have five little people running about the house, so I have rules and expectations. I have a lot of rules.

I have another little motto when it comes to sharing "Just because you are bigger and stronger, doesn't mean you always win". I don't think a two year old should grab a toy from a four year old any more than I think the reverse is acceptable (when I am not watching, of course).

I miss so very many of these indiscretions that I'm sure it would make my head spin. Almost-four-year-olds seem to be notorious for being sneaky and I simply don't trust what I do not see.

The best I can do is have the same rules in place for all. Whether you are "one" or "two" or "four", you must be kind and try to be happy (aka: save crying for emergencies, not as a manipulative ploy). I don't want anyone to put toys in their mouth or standing/jumping on or off the furniture or bullying another or walking around the house with food or drink or a vast number of other house rules.

I need to keep all of my little people safe and contained within my reach. And I need to know my furniture and belongings will still be standing at the end of a daycare year.

Then there is the "sitting still" part.

Even I feel very odd if all of my kids are too still and too quiet. It is not natural. But it is necessary and a very good way to wind down into nap time, to be still and quiet as a part of our routine to lull their little brains and bodies into a restful state.

The same goes at meal time. Meals are a time when I insist on a calm and regulated atmosphere. There is a "no choking allowed" rule here and it is one I enforce within ounce of my control. Small bites. Chew and chew and chew and swallow before you take the next. No goofing around while you are eating. Manners, manners, manners. Yes, I do expect my little people to adhere to those rules too. Whether they are a year or twelve years. Meal time is not a time to be monkeying around.

I am such a grinch. I have such high expectations of my little daycare family. I am so busy supervising and monitoring and guiding that I forget to smile some days.

I have a little tape which rewinds and replays each and every daycare day. Be kind, be happy. Not just the kids. Me too!

Do better, be better, do as much as you can. Keep these children safe and happy and fed and rested and (relatively) clean.

I do what I do, so my parents can pick up their children intact at the end of the day. I just hope these guys are happy too.

Do I expect too much?

When the parent of my new one-year-old gazed at amazement when he saw his little guy sitting still at a little picnic table, with a (plastic) glass of water at the day's end he said, "He never sits like that! In fact, we've noticed a real difference in him since he started coming here. He sits and eats breakfast too ..."

I think this little guy was raised in a no "NO" zone before. They placed snacks in a place where he could graze and eat all day. He fell asleep on the couch when he was tired. Just by watching his mom with him (when he was trying to play with an electrical cord which I have securely attached to a table leg to keep it out harm's way), letting him explore and gently telling him "don't do that", but watching him do it anyway ... I am thinking that my way is so very different than their way.

Is that a bad thing?

Any time I feel a parent look at me in a manner which makes me question myself, I tell them I have to be strict. Because if I wasn't and had five kids "doing what they want to do", it would not be good for anyone.

I agree. Two year olds do not want to share or sit still and they do grab toys and like to climb on everything.

But isn't it our job to guide them into learning to share and sitting still at appropriate times and steering them towards places where they are allowed to climb, and encouraging appropriate behaviours so we can take them out in public?

I berate myself so much throughout my daycare days, that I do not appreciate these little "words of wisdom" to come and taunt me into believing I'm even worse than I thought I was. The truth of the matter, is that the reason these words struck such a chord within me is because I feel like I'm expecting too much of these guys. Or am I?

That is the question. Facebook, would you like to answer that one for me as well?

Encouraging Words

I've been thinking of backing down from this "writing out loud" gig for a little while. Again.

Each and every time I have to submit articles for the publications I write for, there is this whiny, nagging and just a little bit witchy (maybe replace the "w" with a "b" and it is a better descriptive word) voice inside my head that says "Just who do you think you are??!"

Then one  morning, I will roll over and wake up with a renewed state of confidence  and fire off my words and buff my nails against my chest and after reading something I have written, I will think "That was good. That was really good."

The morning after that one, I reread those very same articles and realize I was just a little delusional to think my writing was anything more than mediocre honesty, at best.

Then I carry on with living my merry little life and just write about things that really don't matter. Sometimes, little things come to the surface as I make my way through my quiet, predictable life I lead and I think I make a good point now and again. Certainly not always.

This week has been a little bit of a "Who in the world do you think you are???" kind of week. But I just keep on writing. A little here and there and sometimes not at all. 

Then, two days in a row, I received a little feedback on some words I put out into this great big world. People I have never met gave me the gift of telling me how they integrated some of my little metaphors-for-living into their own universe. They told me a little piece of their story and how it fit into what I wrote.

Wow.

I write an awful lot of nonsense. This I know. Some days I will start out writing about one thing and then get derailed before I get back to my point. My fingers have a mind of their own and if I don't censor them, sometimes they have something more important to say than the rational side of my brain is trying to write. 

It was one such day, when I thought "Why in the world am I writing this?", that evoked a comment from a friend I have not yet met in person (we have been penpals for twenty years - I wrote a little about our friendship at a distance here).

It was the part of my tale where I let myself get sidetracked from the moral of my story that spoke to her. 

The day after my penpal friend wrote such encouraging and touching words, I received an email from an editor who has become a "virtual friend" who quoted my words and cited an example of how they applied to life as she knew it.

This week has been sprinkled with encouragement. Family and friends have written &/or called just when I needed it the most. 

My cousin called me yesterday and told me of the reaction my uncle had as he "lapped up" the last letter I wrote to him. She asked me if I remembered what I had written (I didn't). She told me I had said something to the effect of "feeling like I was sitting down and having a cup of coffee with him"and this was a part of the letter he shared with her. She asked him, "What would you think of sitting down and having that cup of coffee with her?" He replied, "I think that would be great!" Little did he know that my mom and I are planning on being there, sipping on a cup of java with him in less than four weeks from now.

Simply hearing my cousin describe the way my uncle felt as he touched and read my letter was such a gift. I can't remember what I wrote about. I just put pen to paper and let the words tumble onto the page. They seem to be words that touched a chord with him. 

I think I could have written anything. Sometimes it is the mere act of seeing a person's handwriting that brings them right into your world and touches you. 

Some people write. Some people call. Some people act in giving ways. 

If you feel you have something to say to someone, please say it. Write it. Communicate it in whatever form that feels most comfortable to you. What you are holding onto is a gift. Share it with the one who has inspired you.

I feel like I've been touched by angels this week. Simple words have come to me from so very many different directions. Each set of them have been a gift.

Thank you, Universe! You have been incredibly generous!! I appreciate it more than you will ever know.

Sprinkle kindness generously throughout your day. If someone touches you in some way, let them know it. You will never know the difference a few simple words can make to someone who is having "a day" that they aren't wearing on their face. 

A little kindness goes a long way.

Missing Andre

It has been seven and a half weeks since our senior partner in cathood purred his last purr and drifted quietly out of our lives.

The reality of losing him was devastating. Before, during and after the realization that he was failing quickly and he had lost the battle within, was sadness personified.

Walking through life in the days that followed left an empty hole in my heart.

Then life went on.

Junior Cat became our Only Cat and he didn't show any signs of missing his furry, purry buddy. There was one mournful meow he let out for no reason whatsoever, but that was the only indication that his life had changed.

My broken heart started mending and I started missing the fact that I missed Andre so much. It wasn't right. I sort of wanted to hold onto the "sad" because I felt closer to him that way.

It didn't happen.

My son and I went through the collection of pet photos we have amassed over the years and reminisced. We replayed memories, videos, we talked and we laughed. We were beyond the tears.

This week, I have been missing Andre again.

His close up is the screen saver on my cell phone and his entire face fills the screen. I just gazed into his closed eyes and thought of his purr, his snuggle and his ability to love each of us for who we were.

I have been spending endless hours outside with the kids and I miss my little black kitty. He loved, loved, loved the outdoors and if he was still with us, he would have been soaking up the sun or hiding in the lilac bush or snuggled up on the lawn swing or ...

I miss him.

Andre's junior partner in cathood is not a snuggly, purry cat and he is terrified of the world outside of our doors. He's unique and different from Andre in every way. Except his black fur coat.

It was like he read my mind. I missed seeing my little black kitty enjoying the great outdoors. Yesterday, our Junior (and Only) Cat took a few tentative steps outside.

At first, he needed to know he could come and go as he pleased. There was much going inside. Then outside. Then back in. Then back out. He needed inside. Then he meowed to get back outside. 

He explored the deck area. Then had to touch carpet to regain his composure. 

Back outside, he rechecked the boundaries and eventually allowed his feet to touch the sidewalk. Then ... he placed his two front feet on soil (it should be grass but it is packed dirt) and he stayed there.

Two paws on brand new territory. Two paws placed firmly on solid cement. He came to terms with that arrangement. Then he took two more forward steps and started exploring the grassy area of the back yard.

He made a half-lap around the yard. He stuck close to the garage but the fenced area frightened him. He hustled back inside again. Then came right back out.

He made another half lap, going the opposite direction. Then he stopped at the fence line. It was as if he had an inner state of knowing the fence was all that was saving him from losing us and his home. He wasn't taking any chances.

Back inside.

He did this for a while, expanding his horizons with every step outside his comfort zone. He was focused. He saw nothing but safety verses the unknown for the first long while.

Then there was a change in his posture. It seemed to happen all of a sudden. His chest started bursting with pride and if he had a voice I think it may sound a little like my little two year old daycare daughter who mastered climbing a ladder onto a new platform at the playground a little while ago. "I knew I could do it!!", as she bursted with pride as she overcame her fear and hit new heights. I think our Only Cat would have sounded very much like her.

Once he overcame his greatest fears and actually didn't need to check in with the house to see if he was still welcome there, he started noticing the great big world around him. In small ways.

He started attacking the little almost invisible flying "gnats" that came to life with each step he made in the grass. His expression changed in that moment to reflect his senior partner in cathood. He looked like a curious little kitten, instead of an overgrown lion cub who was let outside for the first time in his life.

He started hearing the birds singing in stereo sound around our back yard. It was as if he fully appreciated the view outside of our living room window coming to him live and in color. And he was an active participant instead of a quiet observer in this thing called "life".

I sat on the swing and just watched our big, black kitty coming to life right in front of my eyes. My heart swelled as I thought of our little black kitty and how much I have been missing him. It felt so right to have his best buddy outside chasing bugs and eating grass and starting to notice the birds.

Andre was an outside cat with a quest for adventure. We couldn't tame that, as much as we tried. He had a zest for life which I now marvel. It was hard to keep that little kitty tucked inside of our home where we could protect him from the dangers outside of our doors. In the end, we couldn't protect him from the illness that consumed him. He was so wise to live hard and push limits while he was here with us.

Our Only Cat is so different. He is afraid of everything. He has lived with us and known us for two years and he still jumps at shadows and acts like he can't trust us. His eyes are so full of fear of the unknown and that-which-lies-outside-our-door.

It felt good to sit still with my son and watch this brand new side of our big, black cat emerge. It was like opening the living room window and inviting the world into his realm of safety. 

Life isn't all about sitting back and watching it pass by. It is about taking those tentative steps into something new and rediscovering it. Day after day.

Welcome to the big, scary world, Kitty Cat. We'll do our best to keep you safe. I promise.

A Broken Microwave, A Fire Alarm and a Power Outage

Did you ever have the oddest sequence of events take you to exactly where you needed to be, but wouldn't have gone there on your own? Me too!

Our microwave has been smelling like the makings of an electrical fire every time I have forgotten not to use it the past few weeks. Last night I had some decent leftovers for my son to warm up for supper. Only no microwave.

Darn!! I had to go out and replace our microwave. Either that or cook! Blech to both, but buying a microwave seemed like a longer term investment so I opted for that.

I didn't want to go to the store where I bought our first dud microwave, so I went to the next closest.

I walked into the store and people were everywhere. I wondered why and then deduced that "June 1st" payday may have something to do with the unruly mob.

I needed some bananas while I was there and after I walked by some bad looking strawberries I found some bananas that didn't look any better.

I was just about to get grumpy about the crowd, the unsavory looking fruit and the fact that I didn't want to be there when the fire alarm went off.

"Everybody out of the building" said one store clerk.

Why didn't I think of that before? Why did it take a fire alarm to make me realize I had the choice to leave the building?? I honestly wonder where my head is at some days.

I ended up at a preferable store, buying a preferred brand of microwave (one that had not let me down in the past), with the ability to pick up some groceries and milk while I was out.

The benefit of needing a microwave before my son's supper could be warmed up, is that he had time to mow the lawn before I returned home with the food warmer upper.

I was finally ready to sit still in front of the TV and waste the remainder of the evening. I deserved it. I had mowed my half of the lawn, gone shopping, showered and put in a full daycare day. I was done and ready to call it a day.

Then the power went out.

I love my new laptop computer!! The power went out but my computer kept on going, powered by its back-up battery source.

The internet was down due to the power outage but I had a bookkeeping job to do that had nothing to do with the internet and everything to do with sitting down and getting at it.

The gift of a one hour power outage, combined with fifteen minutes to finish up the job and send it on its way once the power and internet were restored was just what I needed.

I would have made that job bigger than it needed to be if I had put it off another day. Thank goodness for that powerless hour. Double gratitude goes to my computer that just kept on going. With or without a power source.

The gift of a fire alarm removed me from a store I didn't want to be in, in the first place. It redirected me to a place where I could do a little one-stop-shopping and not have to leave the house for the rest of the week.

The gift of a broken microwave forced me out of the house when that was the last place in the world I wanted to be.

Three "gifts" put me exactly where I needed to be last night. I did the hard stuff. All I had to do was wake up this morning, without the weight of what I should have and could have done last night.

The hard work is done. Now all I have to do is keep taking one small step in front of the other and the next hard things won't feel so bad.