I woke up with the overwhelming need for it to be Saturday this morning.
I have no idea if that is because I woke up at 1:00 a.m., with the pressing need to run and check my emails and Facebook (while I was sitting there, wide awake). This was followed by the inability to wake up and pull myself out of a nightmarish dream sometime within the next few hours. When my alarm finally went off, I was dreaming that I was exercising (of all things!).
The week has exhausted me.
I have no idea if it is because I had too much to do or not enough. I tend to do better when I am over-committed. You don't have a choice. You just go. And do. And get things done. When you don't have enough to do, everything becomes big. Washing my hair was one of my biggest chores. I should have done it sooner. Clean hair energizes me. Perhaps my hair has superpowers?
After-hours bookkeeping seemed to drain me.
Bringing home 'homework' was hard. Getting it done was harder. I don't know why it becomes so big when I take it out of its surroundings and into my home. When I work away from home, I have absolutely no distractions. At home, I find nothing but distractions. When I am getting paid to do a job, I tend to think I need to have uninterrupted time. Which rarely happens in the confines of my life-at-home. In the end, it took me four hours to complete the task at hand. It took me eleven days to do four hours worth of work. Perhaps I should have washed my hair sooner ...
I've rediscovered my work with 'little people' is something I rather enjoy.
This past while, we have had many more good daycare-days than bad. In fact the moments that I used to call 'bad' pass so quickly that I now see them as nothing more than a learning curve or a wake-up call that we need to change what we are doing when it stops working.
I have had the same 'family of three' for a year now. They have grown from one and two year olds, to two and three year olds. One year olds? Are hard. Two year olds? Are so much easier. Three year olds? I almost want to sit down and have coffee with them, they seem so 'mature' (not really, but you get my drift).
I work with great parents who are so very easy to like. One of my moms wrote me an email this week, telling me that they consider me family. Her words were a gift.
My job isn't always easy. It isn't always rewarding. It isn't even all that stimulating. But when I look back at where we were a year ago and see the little 'family' that come to play each and every day and how much they have grown, learned and evolved ... I must admit my heart swells with pride. I know it is wrong to be proud, but how can you help it when you see little two and three year olds treating each other with kindness, learning to co-operate among themselves and sprinkling their day with manners without any prodding or reminding?
I am so incredibly blessed to be living this quiet little life of mine. Within the safety and security of my home, I am earning a living. I am doing what I want to do. I am making enough money to pay the bills and afford the odd extravagance. I honestly could not ask for more.
Except perhaps, three day weekends.
My day just drove up into my driveway and this little post about nothing must come to an end.
The week is almost over and (apparently) so are my deep thoughts. Time to coast through our Friday!
Friday, January 30, 2015
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Christmas in January
On the morning of Christmas Eve, I wrote a little 'story' about a card which I didn't receive this past Christmas.
The words came straight from my heart and onto the page without editing. They were words to honor my uncle who has made a huge impact in my life and the life of so many others.
This story was shared among family and my cousin read my words to my uncle. I was touched that my words hit a chord that resonated among many.
My uncle told me my cousin had a hard time reading the words because of their emotional impact. I told him that is because they were a truth that she felt and recognized. Words that touch one's heart are hard ones to read out loud.
I haven't spoken to my uncle since Christmas. I wrote him a letter and passed along my greetings through family who have been able to go out and visit with him.
He has been busy recovering and spending time with family. That is harder than it sounds, but it seems like he is making slow and steady headway and he is on the hard road back to us.
Yesterday morning, I opened my mailbox and I found a handwritten letter to me inside. I didn't recognize the writing on the envelope but I recognized the return address. The letter was from my uncle. And it was a fat one!
He started writing to me on December 28th. He continued on January 14th, 15th and the 21st before he sealed it up and sent it on its way to me.
His words were a gift.
From a sunset he described which reminded him of a similar sunset my dad once told him about on their family farm growing up ... to remembering Dad's hair and eye color ... to his kind and grateful words as he started several of his messages in response to some of my letters or cards ... to his absolute Pride and Joy (he capitalized those words, not me) as he described the book of family memories, he helped me assemble. "I've spent hours up and down halls flogging your book. Much interest..."
I raked myself over the coals time and time again as I berated myself for taking so long assembling those memories. Yet, as I listen to the way my uncle has flaunted our book (he even has stories about telling his cleaning lady about The Book), I couldn't be more pleased that this book found its way into my uncles hands at a time where he needed something firm and tangible to hold onto.
Roots. They ground us in unfathomable ways.
Find what grounds you within your life. For one never knows when your 'root system' may be compromised.
Dig deep and hold on tightly as you weather life's storms.
My uncle seems to be coming through the other side of this latest hurricane. His world has been upended but to hear him dreaming of rebuilding his life in bright and shiny new ways makes me think 'he has his eye on the prize' and he will get beyond the point he is at and out pursue some of those dreams.
Dream big. Make the impossible possible. Look up. Try to look beyond the moment you are in. If you are in a deep, dark place, it is hard. I know. It feels impossible. Maybe it is. But only for the moment. Feel it. Let it wash over you. Don't deny the power of the eye of that hurricane. But trust the storm will pass.
From my own personal experience (in my world of fairy tale endings), the storm does pass. It may leave devastation in its wake but out of the devastation comes opportunity. Opportunity to cull the clutter of one's life. Opportunity to start over and rebuild. A clarity of seeing what is truly important in times of crisis. Out of the need to lean on and rely on others, you learn faith. Faith that stems from finding strength and support in the most unlikely of places.
My uncle has spoken fondly of many of the people he has met over the course of the past three months. "One of my many favorite people here ..."; "My new friend ..." Yet he is feeling like he is wearing out his welcome and admits he is a bit antsy about moving on.
My uncle, who has been admired and revered among family, friends, neighbors and co-workers for the entirety of his life found an oasis within his 'refuge from the storm'. A safe and supportive place where he has been allowed the freedom to 'fall'.
He has been caught in the arms of strangers as they guiding him through and past some of the toughest days he has known.
Yes, family has been waiting in the wings, supporting, cheering him on all along the way. But there are times when one must rely on powers greater than the love and support of family.
I am beyond grateful my uncle was 'exactly where he needed to be' to work his way through this stormy season of his life.
Gratitude is deeply ingrained and woven into most every word he writes. He sees the gifts in people and the many ways small actions make a profound difference. He befriends cleaning ladies, fellow-residents and speaks kindly of those he writes about.
He lavishes compliments easily and proves his point by citing examples.
He recently told me how he 'hears' Mom in my laughter and my voice. He has accidentally called me by Mom's name. I know there was a mutual admiration between the two of them so I hold these comparisons close to my heart and quietly smile. He even wrote my mom's name and then crossed it out and replaced it with mine, in his letter to me. He will never ever know what a well timed gift he gave me.
Thank you, dear uncle. Your letter was the best gift I could have ever received.
Thank you.
The words came straight from my heart and onto the page without editing. They were words to honor my uncle who has made a huge impact in my life and the life of so many others.
This story was shared among family and my cousin read my words to my uncle. I was touched that my words hit a chord that resonated among many.
My uncle told me my cousin had a hard time reading the words because of their emotional impact. I told him that is because they were a truth that she felt and recognized. Words that touch one's heart are hard ones to read out loud.
I haven't spoken to my uncle since Christmas. I wrote him a letter and passed along my greetings through family who have been able to go out and visit with him.
He has been busy recovering and spending time with family. That is harder than it sounds, but it seems like he is making slow and steady headway and he is on the hard road back to us.
Yesterday morning, I opened my mailbox and I found a handwritten letter to me inside. I didn't recognize the writing on the envelope but I recognized the return address. The letter was from my uncle. And it was a fat one!
He started writing to me on December 28th. He continued on January 14th, 15th and the 21st before he sealed it up and sent it on its way to me.
His words were a gift.
From a sunset he described which reminded him of a similar sunset my dad once told him about on their family farm growing up ... to remembering Dad's hair and eye color ... to his kind and grateful words as he started several of his messages in response to some of my letters or cards ... to his absolute Pride and Joy (he capitalized those words, not me) as he described the book of family memories, he helped me assemble. "I've spent hours up and down halls flogging your book. Much interest..."
I raked myself over the coals time and time again as I berated myself for taking so long assembling those memories. Yet, as I listen to the way my uncle has flaunted our book (he even has stories about telling his cleaning lady about The Book), I couldn't be more pleased that this book found its way into my uncles hands at a time where he needed something firm and tangible to hold onto.
Roots. They ground us in unfathomable ways.
Find what grounds you within your life. For one never knows when your 'root system' may be compromised.
Dig deep and hold on tightly as you weather life's storms.
My uncle seems to be coming through the other side of this latest hurricane. His world has been upended but to hear him dreaming of rebuilding his life in bright and shiny new ways makes me think 'he has his eye on the prize' and he will get beyond the point he is at and out pursue some of those dreams.
Dream big. Make the impossible possible. Look up. Try to look beyond the moment you are in. If you are in a deep, dark place, it is hard. I know. It feels impossible. Maybe it is. But only for the moment. Feel it. Let it wash over you. Don't deny the power of the eye of that hurricane. But trust the storm will pass.
From my own personal experience (in my world of fairy tale endings), the storm does pass. It may leave devastation in its wake but out of the devastation comes opportunity. Opportunity to cull the clutter of one's life. Opportunity to start over and rebuild. A clarity of seeing what is truly important in times of crisis. Out of the need to lean on and rely on others, you learn faith. Faith that stems from finding strength and support in the most unlikely of places.
My uncle has spoken fondly of many of the people he has met over the course of the past three months. "One of my many favorite people here ..."; "My new friend ..." Yet he is feeling like he is wearing out his welcome and admits he is a bit antsy about moving on.
My uncle, who has been admired and revered among family, friends, neighbors and co-workers for the entirety of his life found an oasis within his 'refuge from the storm'. A safe and supportive place where he has been allowed the freedom to 'fall'.
He has been caught in the arms of strangers as they guiding him through and past some of the toughest days he has known.
Yes, family has been waiting in the wings, supporting, cheering him on all along the way. But there are times when one must rely on powers greater than the love and support of family.
I am beyond grateful my uncle was 'exactly where he needed to be' to work his way through this stormy season of his life.
Gratitude is deeply ingrained and woven into most every word he writes. He sees the gifts in people and the many ways small actions make a profound difference. He befriends cleaning ladies, fellow-residents and speaks kindly of those he writes about.
He lavishes compliments easily and proves his point by citing examples.
He recently told me how he 'hears' Mom in my laughter and my voice. He has accidentally called me by Mom's name. I know there was a mutual admiration between the two of them so I hold these comparisons close to my heart and quietly smile. He even wrote my mom's name and then crossed it out and replaced it with mine, in his letter to me. He will never ever know what a well timed gift he gave me.
Thank you, dear uncle. Your letter was the best gift I could have ever received.
Thank you.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Slow Dancing (for now)
Tonight's Gonna Be a Good Night ... ("I've Got a Feeling") was the song playing on the radio this morning when I was finally ready to accept my fate and greet the day ahead.
This was the 'theme song' they played at a dance competition I attended five short years ago. Every time some big award was given out, they would play the chorus of this song:
This was the 'theme song' they played at a dance competition I attended five short years ago. Every time some big award was given out, they would play the chorus of this song:
"I gotta feeling (oooooo hoooo) that tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good night
That tonight's gonna be a good good night"
The Black Eyed Peas
My heart started to beat to the tempo of this song. I sat back and marvelled at those receiving awards and thought of how the memory of the evening would replay each and every time they heard that chorus.
It was akin to the emotion I used to feel watching beauty pageants in my youth. I could put myself in their shoes and feel the tide of emotion sweep over me.
For years (and years) every single time I heard that theme song, I was transported back in time. Back to that competition. Back to the euphoria. Back to the moments of excitement I felt during that Cinderella-at-the-ball weekend.
The song brought back a feeling of happiness, dreams-come-true and pure and utter joy.
I laid in bed this morning and heard that very same song.
I tried to muster the joy I felt when that song first walked into my life. It was as if I was watching the highlight reel of someone else's life.
I was a different person back then.
I have changed and evolved and grown. I like a lot of the changes. I miss the passion I felt during those glory days though.
I am grateful my life isn't one big Dance Competition.
It took a lot of energy to primp and prepare for those two days of glitz. Fake tan, eyelash extensions, gel finger and toenails, crazy hair color, new hair style, costumes, evening wear, make-up and jewelry. It was fun while it lasted but it took a lot of energy to maintain the aura of 'a dancer'.
It took a lot of energy to primp and prepare for those two days of glitz. Fake tan, eyelash extensions, gel finger and toenails, crazy hair color, new hair style, costumes, evening wear, make-up and jewelry. It was fun while it lasted but it took a lot of energy to maintain the aura of 'a dancer'.
Oh, my dancing days.
It was a good run. It was a very good run! I loved every moment of it. Until I didn't.
What has changed? In a nutshell? Me.
I care more about what I look like on the 'inside' than on the 'outside'.
I have more fun dancing like no one is watching, than worrying about the intricacies of technique and perfection because everyone is watching.
The sad part is - I don't dance anymore. No where.
I don't dance in the kitchen like I used to. I don't go to dances. I miss the social interaction and the movement to music while surrounded with a group of people who share that passion.
It is less about the dance and more about the passion.
I miss that girl. But I'm glad I once knew and embodied her.
The day will come when the lyrics "Tonight's gonna be a good night..." will make my heart sing again.
Just not this morning. Just not today.
Life's ebbs and flows. I am not going to fight it. I'm just feeling what I'm feeling for as long as I need to feel it. I have the feeling if I fight it, it is going to come back and overwhelm me.
I don't feel like dancing right now. But I will. I know I will. I loved it too much not to fall back in love with it again.
In the interim, I'm just slow-dancing through the days.
Written Feb 15, 2010:
Coming Home
All good things must come to an end. So it is, with the Great Dance Adventure of 2010.
What lies on the horizon? Who knows. If someone would have told me I would have had this opportunity a year ago, I wouldn't have believed them. That fact alone makes me believe that absolutely anything is possible.
Life isn't full of grand adventures ... it is defined by how we walk through our daily routines.
The gift, is to find adventure in everything you do. Make each day the best day of your life-so-far. Every single morning, we awake to endless possibilities. Sure, they aren't all fun and games ... but even a bad day is a day to be conquered. Like climbing a mountain. You can only appreciate the view as you near the top. The view is fleeting ... the struggle is what builds your character and lasts forever.
Yes, this Dance Event has come and gone. The moment was fleeting, in the whole scheme of things. What will I remember? The challenge, the struggles, the fun, the adventure, the novelty, the people ...
Throughout this voyage, I have heard so much from so many. Encouragement, advise, support and friendship. When all of the memories fade, as memories do ... I will hold onto the words, the friends and the people who have made this such a Memorable Time in My Life.
I'm headed home as I write this ... back to earth and back to the reality that is my life. It's a good life - a life that I'm thrilled is awaiting my return. What if I didn't have that? An everyday-life that I savor, surrounded with people that inspire and fuel me. There is no Grand Adventure in the world, that could make up for not having what I've had all along.
I have a most wonderful life. I have fulfilled a most amazing dream. I am ready to put my feet back on the ground and go forward from here.
As always ... it feels good to be coming home.
Written Feb 15, 2010:
Coming Home
All good things must come to an end. So it is, with the Great Dance Adventure of 2010.
What lies on the horizon? Who knows. If someone would have told me I would have had this opportunity a year ago, I wouldn't have believed them. That fact alone makes me believe that absolutely anything is possible.
Life isn't full of grand adventures ... it is defined by how we walk through our daily routines.
The gift, is to find adventure in everything you do. Make each day the best day of your life-so-far. Every single morning, we awake to endless possibilities. Sure, they aren't all fun and games ... but even a bad day is a day to be conquered. Like climbing a mountain. You can only appreciate the view as you near the top. The view is fleeting ... the struggle is what builds your character and lasts forever.
Yes, this Dance Event has come and gone. The moment was fleeting, in the whole scheme of things. What will I remember? The challenge, the struggles, the fun, the adventure, the novelty, the people ...
Throughout this voyage, I have heard so much from so many. Encouragement, advise, support and friendship. When all of the memories fade, as memories do ... I will hold onto the words, the friends and the people who have made this such a Memorable Time in My Life.
I'm headed home as I write this ... back to earth and back to the reality that is my life. It's a good life - a life that I'm thrilled is awaiting my return. What if I didn't have that? An everyday-life that I savor, surrounded with people that inspire and fuel me. There is no Grand Adventure in the world, that could make up for not having what I've had all along.
I have a most wonderful life. I have fulfilled a most amazing dream. I am ready to put my feet back on the ground and go forward from here.
As always ... it feels good to be coming home.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Customer Service 101
I woke up with a fire in my belly this morning. And that was before I read the late-last-night email and early-this-morning text from my brother...
Let me tell you more.
In December, my sister and I planned a purely frivolous and extraordinary weekend in Vegas, to go see Dancing With the Stars Live in February.
As I was making the reservation, I kept asking my sister "Are you sure?" "Should I hit the 'I Accept' (and every other) button (there was to press along our way)?"
By the time we got off the phone that fateful night, it was a done deal. We were going to Vegas!
As if that wasn't exciting enough by itself, my sister-in-law texted me a few days later, asking me where we were staying, because she wanted to surprise my brother with the gift of a trip-for-two to Vegas (with her sister-in-laws, no less!) for Christmas; their upcoming 25th anniversary and my brother's looming 50th birthday. All in one.
The exhilaration levels rose by the moment. Between surprising my brother (he is a tough guy to surprise) and my sister with (at the time) that-which-only-my-sister-in-law-and-I-knew, was a gift unto itself.
It took (perhaps) less than a week before my brother admitted he read the confirmation email about the trip and the cat was out of the bag.
But my sister still didn't know.
We all walked around like Cheshire Cats, withholding this great surprise from my sister. It was fun and we were all anticipating her great surprise when we stumbled into my brother and his wife in Vegas, of all places. We couldn't wait to see her reaction.
Long story short, I was the one who spilled the beans to my sister. Perhaps it was meant to be, because due to circumstances beyond our control, it is looking like my brother and his wife may be backing out of the trip. Or at the very least, delaying their departure date by a day.
We had a 'conference call' between the three siblings last night. My sister and I agreed that my brother is in the hardest position of all, as we weighed out the facts we know and needed to decide whether we should all back out of our trip or not.
In the end, we thought the perfect compromise was for my brother and his wife to try and change their flight by one day.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?
Unfortunately this sounded like the best option for them because their 'comprehensive cancellation insurance package' has very strict guidelines about paying out. And our situation, as dire as it feels to us, does not meet their criteria. So they stood to lose their entire holiday and be out the full cost of the trip, plus their insurance costs.
Before I went to sleep last night, my brother emailed me to tell me that "Yes" they could change their departure date. The cost? $1800!! Their entire trip only cost $1600, so their total out-of-pocket-expense was $3400. It was 'cheaper' to bail out completely and not even go.
UNbelievable.
I woke up before my alarm this morning, with my brother and sister-in-law first and foremost in my mind. I had a plan.
I have learned a lesson within this little life of mine. "Never be afraid to ask". You still may be told 'no', but at least you gave it your best shot.
I called Expedia.ca bright and early this morning. I was on hold for less than two minutes. I got a polite representative and once she confirmed I had enough information to continue, I asked her if she had time to hear our story.
She said she did.
Our story is not long. It is not complicated. But it is fresh, new territory for our family, as we tread into this together.
Part two of the story is my brother and his wife.
This trip was booked with the best of intentions and a heart full of love and generosity. This is a couple who works hard for every penny they have, so a trip such as this is not taken lightly. It's a big thing. They will be honoring twenty five years of marriage in four months.
While they were on their modest honeymoon twenty five years ago, my brother looked at his new bride with stars in his eyes and full of wonder and hope for their future. I am not certain what the exact words were but in my mind's eye, I see this young couple boarding a ferry and my newly wed brother (probably) said (something to the effect of) "We will go on a cruise for our 25th anniversary ..."
A three-day-trip to Vegas was a small consolation prize. And one that cost them dearly.
I plead their case to the Expedia.ca representative. I did not deny their position of hearing every story in the book, when it comes to reasons for cancellation. But I explained this was new and foreign ground for our family and we would appreciate anything they could offer. Travel credit for a future holiday (for my brother and his wife) perhaps?
This representative listened to me without interruption and then relayed the facts to her supervisor.
Her supervisor first offered her condolences for our situation. She then offered two options (neither of which include losing the full cost of their holiday nor charging a exorbitant amount of money to switch dates).
Number 1 - I appreciated both of these representatives hearing me out. Number 2 - I was relieved neither one of them immediately defaulted to a line akin to "I'm sorry, but that is our policy". Number 3 - I was grateful to be passed along to a supervisor without having to demand that my plea be heard by someone who could make decisions that fell outside of regular company policy.
I wish they had offered my brother and his wife a free cruise as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary but all stories do not end with a fairy tale ending.
Because the second thing my quiet little life has taught me is to "Dare to dream for impossible things".
Let me tell you more.
In December, my sister and I planned a purely frivolous and extraordinary weekend in Vegas, to go see Dancing With the Stars Live in February.
As I was making the reservation, I kept asking my sister "Are you sure?" "Should I hit the 'I Accept' (and every other) button (there was to press along our way)?"
By the time we got off the phone that fateful night, it was a done deal. We were going to Vegas!
As if that wasn't exciting enough by itself, my sister-in-law texted me a few days later, asking me where we were staying, because she wanted to surprise my brother with the gift of a trip-for-two to Vegas (with her sister-in-laws, no less!) for Christmas; their upcoming 25th anniversary and my brother's looming 50th birthday. All in one.
The exhilaration levels rose by the moment. Between surprising my brother (he is a tough guy to surprise) and my sister with (at the time) that-which-only-my-sister-in-law-and-I-knew, was a gift unto itself.
It took (perhaps) less than a week before my brother admitted he read the confirmation email about the trip and the cat was out of the bag.
But my sister still didn't know.
We all walked around like Cheshire Cats, withholding this great surprise from my sister. It was fun and we were all anticipating her great surprise when we stumbled into my brother and his wife in Vegas, of all places. We couldn't wait to see her reaction.
Long story short, I was the one who spilled the beans to my sister. Perhaps it was meant to be, because due to circumstances beyond our control, it is looking like my brother and his wife may be backing out of the trip. Or at the very least, delaying their departure date by a day.
We had a 'conference call' between the three siblings last night. My sister and I agreed that my brother is in the hardest position of all, as we weighed out the facts we know and needed to decide whether we should all back out of our trip or not.
In the end, we thought the perfect compromise was for my brother and his wife to try and change their flight by one day.
Sounds simple, doesn't it?
Unfortunately this sounded like the best option for them because their 'comprehensive cancellation insurance package' has very strict guidelines about paying out. And our situation, as dire as it feels to us, does not meet their criteria. So they stood to lose their entire holiday and be out the full cost of the trip, plus their insurance costs.
Before I went to sleep last night, my brother emailed me to tell me that "Yes" they could change their departure date. The cost? $1800!! Their entire trip only cost $1600, so their total out-of-pocket-expense was $3400. It was 'cheaper' to bail out completely and not even go.
UNbelievable.
I woke up before my alarm this morning, with my brother and sister-in-law first and foremost in my mind. I had a plan.
I have learned a lesson within this little life of mine. "Never be afraid to ask". You still may be told 'no', but at least you gave it your best shot.
I called Expedia.ca bright and early this morning. I was on hold for less than two minutes. I got a polite representative and once she confirmed I had enough information to continue, I asked her if she had time to hear our story.
She said she did.
Our story is not long. It is not complicated. But it is fresh, new territory for our family, as we tread into this together.
Part two of the story is my brother and his wife.
This trip was booked with the best of intentions and a heart full of love and generosity. This is a couple who works hard for every penny they have, so a trip such as this is not taken lightly. It's a big thing. They will be honoring twenty five years of marriage in four months.
While they were on their modest honeymoon twenty five years ago, my brother looked at his new bride with stars in his eyes and full of wonder and hope for their future. I am not certain what the exact words were but in my mind's eye, I see this young couple boarding a ferry and my newly wed brother (probably) said (something to the effect of) "We will go on a cruise for our 25th anniversary ..."
A three-day-trip to Vegas was a small consolation prize. And one that cost them dearly.
I plead their case to the Expedia.ca representative. I did not deny their position of hearing every story in the book, when it comes to reasons for cancellation. But I explained this was new and foreign ground for our family and we would appreciate anything they could offer. Travel credit for a future holiday (for my brother and his wife) perhaps?
This representative listened to me without interruption and then relayed the facts to her supervisor.
Her supervisor first offered her condolences for our situation. She then offered two options (neither of which include losing the full cost of their holiday nor charging a exorbitant amount of money to switch dates).
Number 1 - I appreciated both of these representatives hearing me out. Number 2 - I was relieved neither one of them immediately defaulted to a line akin to "I'm sorry, but that is our policy". Number 3 - I was grateful to be passed along to a supervisor without having to demand that my plea be heard by someone who could make decisions that fell outside of regular company policy.
I wish they had offered my brother and his wife a free cruise as a gift for their 25th wedding anniversary but all stories do not end with a fairy tale ending.
Because the second thing my quiet little life has taught me is to "Dare to dream for impossible things".
Friday, January 23, 2015
Ready for a Weekend
The week that never ends (it goes on and on, my friend) is sliding down to a stop at the end of today.
Apparently I was in the twilight zone at 9:51 p.m., as the phone on the nightstand beside my bed rang a minimum of four times and I didn't hear a thing until my bookkeeping boss' voice woke me up as she was in the process of leaving me a message.
She has to leave town this weekend so we will be unable to work, as previously planned. I was so disappointed (not really).
I have not yet completed the project I was supposed to do at home, to lessen our load this weekend so I was just a small bit elated.
That job went from "I must get it done before I go into work tomorrow" to "I must get it done so I can fully enjoy my unexpected day off tomorrow!!"
Same end result. Different level of elation (or not).
I must have become accustomed to letting unfinished business weigh me down over the course of (not) completing my dad's family's book of memories. Because I seem to be weighed down an awful lot lately.
The ten minute task of writing my daycare receipts for my families felt daunting this year. The receipt book sat on the computer desk for almost two weeks before I wrapped up that job yesterday afternoon.
Another ten minute job related to my son's bookkeeping work has been shelved (possibly because I know this will lead up to year end tax work).
I didn't write my mom's weekly letter (which I try to do on Monday) until Wednesday.
I haven't swept the kitchen floor all week. Nor have I vacuumed. I found a sticky patch of floor in the kitchen yesterday and swiped down one piece of the floor. And nothing else.
I delayed sending an email to the family (which was of a 'copy and paste' variety) because it felt too hard to do.
I find it harder and harder to wake up in the morning. Writing has become work and something I squeeze into the minutes before my day takes over.
I think I am feeling the January Blues. I just want to curl up on the couch and read, watch TV, play solitaire and work up an appetite to want to snack (even snacking has become something that I find hard to squeeze into my day).
It has been a long month.
I know I am the one who is in control of turning things around and changing the drudgery of my days.
Morning is key for me. Sleeping in that extra hour has given me a little more wakefulness at the end of my day. But sleeping in has also deprived me of the time I used to do 'hard things'.
Six impossible things before lunch has become a daunting task. Those impossible things have boiled down to:
I feel drained. The less I do, the more I want to do less.
I crave solitude. The more alone I feel, the more I want to be alone.
I'm teetering on the edge of sadness, but I know I am truly content underneath my exterior. I feel like I am conserving my resources for an uncertain fate.
I think it is time for a weekend. I am grateful that is exactly what is in store for me, ten hours from now.
Now it is time to make the most of these ten hours, so the weekend I think I need so badly is free and clear of obligations.
Apparently I was in the twilight zone at 9:51 p.m., as the phone on the nightstand beside my bed rang a minimum of four times and I didn't hear a thing until my bookkeeping boss' voice woke me up as she was in the process of leaving me a message.
She has to leave town this weekend so we will be unable to work, as previously planned. I was so disappointed (not really).
I have not yet completed the project I was supposed to do at home, to lessen our load this weekend so I was just a small bit elated.
That job went from "I must get it done before I go into work tomorrow" to "I must get it done so I can fully enjoy my unexpected day off tomorrow!!"
Same end result. Different level of elation (or not).
I must have become accustomed to letting unfinished business weigh me down over the course of (not) completing my dad's family's book of memories. Because I seem to be weighed down an awful lot lately.
The ten minute task of writing my daycare receipts for my families felt daunting this year. The receipt book sat on the computer desk for almost two weeks before I wrapped up that job yesterday afternoon.
Another ten minute job related to my son's bookkeeping work has been shelved (possibly because I know this will lead up to year end tax work).
I didn't write my mom's weekly letter (which I try to do on Monday) until Wednesday.
I haven't swept the kitchen floor all week. Nor have I vacuumed. I found a sticky patch of floor in the kitchen yesterday and swiped down one piece of the floor. And nothing else.
I delayed sending an email to the family (which was of a 'copy and paste' variety) because it felt too hard to do.
I find it harder and harder to wake up in the morning. Writing has become work and something I squeeze into the minutes before my day takes over.
I think I am feeling the January Blues. I just want to curl up on the couch and read, watch TV, play solitaire and work up an appetite to want to snack (even snacking has become something that I find hard to squeeze into my day).
It has been a long month.
I know I am the one who is in control of turning things around and changing the drudgery of my days.
Morning is key for me. Sleeping in that extra hour has given me a little more wakefulness at the end of my day. But sleeping in has also deprived me of the time I used to do 'hard things'.
Six impossible things before lunch has become a daunting task. Those impossible things have boiled down to:
- Getting out of bed
- Getting dressed
- Opening the blinds
- Unlocking the door
- Allowing the day to 'walk in'
- Smiling and accepting my fate
I feel drained. The less I do, the more I want to do less.
I crave solitude. The more alone I feel, the more I want to be alone.
I'm teetering on the edge of sadness, but I know I am truly content underneath my exterior. I feel like I am conserving my resources for an uncertain fate.
I think it is time for a weekend. I am grateful that is exactly what is in store for me, ten hours from now.
Now it is time to make the most of these ten hours, so the weekend I think I need so badly is free and clear of obligations.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Small Victories
As I closed the door on my daycare day yesterday, I felt like running a victory lap.
It was just one of those days where (about a trillion) reminders of the 'same old', 'same old' all seemed to come together and create a friction-free kind of day.
I am not exactly certain how many times I repeat myself throughout the course of my day. It is a lot.
I say the same old things. Time and time again. Everyone gets the same lessons. Caring. Sharing. Taking turns. Be gentle. Be kind. Manners, manners, manners.
If you push, you get put to the 'back of the line'. If you don't say please, you don't get 'more'. If you want to walk in front of someone say 'excuse me'.
Reminders, reminders, reminders.
Our days are pretty loosely structured but there are many things the same.
The routines before we go outside. Everyone must go to the bathroom first. All snow gear is laid out on the floor so everyone can do their best to get dressed on their own. Coming back inside is the same thing, only in reverse.
Meal time is pretty routine. Manners are always encouraged. Chew, chew, chew, chew some more and swallow is the name of the game. Bathroom time follows meal time.
Before nap routines are another version of 'rinse and repeat'. Every day. Everyone goes to the bathroom (again) and we either settle in and read books or watch (part of) one of the three Toy Story movies.
Yesterday was an interesting day because I bought a second 'Leap Pad' game. Up until yesterday, the Leap Pad was only for the 'bigger kids'. But ages do not remain stagnant. Our one-year-olds have all turned 'two' and our two year olds have all turned 'three'. It was time to bite the bullet and introduce the little guys into the big guy's territory.
Two Leap Pads and four kids means sharing. A concept young people hear about but don't like too much when sharing involves something shiny, brand new and full of interactive fun.
As long as we had 'four', sharing was rather easy. The little guys didn't know they were going to get a turn at first, so they had absolutely no trouble sitting beside their older friends and watching. Then when the three-year-olds tired of the games and were ready to abandon them, I let the little guys have a turn. Easy peasy.
The challenge came at the end of the day. We were down to three kids and two Leap Pads. I have a timer that I set for five minutes at a time. I explained the concept to my young audience and the only one who had had first hand experience with taking turns every five minutes was the three year old. So I gave the little guys the first five minute stretch. All went well until they had to 'switch' and rotate their turn.
Two years old is a little young to grasp the idea of 'five minute turns'. But not too young to be introduced to it regardless.
My little two-year-old girl does not take kindly to a world which does not spin according to her rules. She cried. She cried so long and so loud she could not hear my assurances she would get the next turn. Thankfully she stopped crying before the five minutes were up, so she did get her turn. But the next time her time was up, she was doubly angry. She cried past the five minute mark and forfeited her next turn. By the third go-round, she still wasn't happy but she sort understood the concept.
Her two-year-old buddy was pretty dramatic when his turn came to wait out five minutes. He wiped non-existent tears off his face. He turned the corners of his lips downward and breathed very, very heavily. But he did not cry. So he did hear me saying the words reassuring him he would get another turn.
These guys have all honed the art of making their parents feel bad at the end of the day and 'pretending' they don't want to go home. My plan was, to have the Leap Pads out of circulation before parents arrived. But I missed the mark by about one minute and thirty six seconds.
Parent #1 (mom of my two-year-old boy) arrived a minute (and thirty six seconds) before his turn was up. I explained to her what we were doing and the timer was due to go off in seconds and his turn would be over. She encouraged us to finish out his last turn.
Her little guy wasn't thrilled to give up the Leap Pad at the end of his turn but was resigned to the (now) familiar routine.
#1 - Mom was totally impressed with her boy for being so accepting of giving up a coveted new play-thing.
Then her little boy decided to play the 'I don't want to go home' game and I scrouched down to his level, asked him to look at my eyes and told him we would bring out the Leap Pads tomorrow, but he had to be really good for his mom and put on his jacket. And he listened!!
#2 - I was shocked and surprised at this success. And so was his mom.
She then asked how his toilet training went that day. I said, "Perfect!" She said at home, he won't even try. He cries and screams and will not even try to go any more.
#3 - I think his mom felt a little defeated. Why is her son so different at daycare??
She left and I thought of the ways 'toilet training' is working for him here.
He is doing what 'the big kids do'. All four of them go to the bathroom before they go outside, after meals, before watching Toy Story (or reading books).
It is a routine. We do (much of) the same thing day in and day out. Often 'something good' follows going to the bathroom. We head off and do something that I don't want interrupted by one-of-four needing to go to the bathroom.
Expectations never (ever) change here.
I expect these guys to listen, be respectful (to me and to everyone else) and do their best. My mom has often reminded me "They are only two!!" and I shake my head and think "WOW!! They are only two and look how good they are doing!!"
Some of my days, I feel like I'm banging my head against a cement wall. I do the same things over and over. I say the same things over and over. I have to remind everyone of the same things over and over. I feel like Bill Murray's character in 'Ground Hog Day'. I feel like I'm caught in a time warp, running in circles and getting no where.
Then I have a day like yesterday.
All four of 'my kids' went home happily and without making their parents feel badly for working all day.
All four of 'my kids' had a relatively successful day in caring, sharing, being kind and taking turns.
All four of 'my kids' have been listening all along.
Sometimes, it is the littlest things that make the biggest difference. Watching little people be kind to one another, using their manners and doing hard things (taking turns when you are 'only two' is one of the hardest things in the world) is one of life's greatest rewards.
These little guys are going to grow up one day. If they leave my daycare with the mantra 'Be kind. Use your manners. Care. Share." running through their brains on auto replay, my work here is done.
It was just one of those days where (about a trillion) reminders of the 'same old', 'same old' all seemed to come together and create a friction-free kind of day.
I am not exactly certain how many times I repeat myself throughout the course of my day. It is a lot.
I say the same old things. Time and time again. Everyone gets the same lessons. Caring. Sharing. Taking turns. Be gentle. Be kind. Manners, manners, manners.
If you push, you get put to the 'back of the line'. If you don't say please, you don't get 'more'. If you want to walk in front of someone say 'excuse me'.
Reminders, reminders, reminders.
Our days are pretty loosely structured but there are many things the same.
The routines before we go outside. Everyone must go to the bathroom first. All snow gear is laid out on the floor so everyone can do their best to get dressed on their own. Coming back inside is the same thing, only in reverse.
Meal time is pretty routine. Manners are always encouraged. Chew, chew, chew, chew some more and swallow is the name of the game. Bathroom time follows meal time.
Before nap routines are another version of 'rinse and repeat'. Every day. Everyone goes to the bathroom (again) and we either settle in and read books or watch (part of) one of the three Toy Story movies.
Yesterday was an interesting day because I bought a second 'Leap Pad' game. Up until yesterday, the Leap Pad was only for the 'bigger kids'. But ages do not remain stagnant. Our one-year-olds have all turned 'two' and our two year olds have all turned 'three'. It was time to bite the bullet and introduce the little guys into the big guy's territory.
Two Leap Pads and four kids means sharing. A concept young people hear about but don't like too much when sharing involves something shiny, brand new and full of interactive fun.
As long as we had 'four', sharing was rather easy. The little guys didn't know they were going to get a turn at first, so they had absolutely no trouble sitting beside their older friends and watching. Then when the three-year-olds tired of the games and were ready to abandon them, I let the little guys have a turn. Easy peasy.
The challenge came at the end of the day. We were down to three kids and two Leap Pads. I have a timer that I set for five minutes at a time. I explained the concept to my young audience and the only one who had had first hand experience with taking turns every five minutes was the three year old. So I gave the little guys the first five minute stretch. All went well until they had to 'switch' and rotate their turn.
Two years old is a little young to grasp the idea of 'five minute turns'. But not too young to be introduced to it regardless.
My little two-year-old girl does not take kindly to a world which does not spin according to her rules. She cried. She cried so long and so loud she could not hear my assurances she would get the next turn. Thankfully she stopped crying before the five minutes were up, so she did get her turn. But the next time her time was up, she was doubly angry. She cried past the five minute mark and forfeited her next turn. By the third go-round, she still wasn't happy but she sort understood the concept.
Her two-year-old buddy was pretty dramatic when his turn came to wait out five minutes. He wiped non-existent tears off his face. He turned the corners of his lips downward and breathed very, very heavily. But he did not cry. So he did hear me saying the words reassuring him he would get another turn.
These guys have all honed the art of making their parents feel bad at the end of the day and 'pretending' they don't want to go home. My plan was, to have the Leap Pads out of circulation before parents arrived. But I missed the mark by about one minute and thirty six seconds.
Parent #1 (mom of my two-year-old boy) arrived a minute (and thirty six seconds) before his turn was up. I explained to her what we were doing and the timer was due to go off in seconds and his turn would be over. She encouraged us to finish out his last turn.
Her little guy wasn't thrilled to give up the Leap Pad at the end of his turn but was resigned to the (now) familiar routine.
#1 - Mom was totally impressed with her boy for being so accepting of giving up a coveted new play-thing.
Then her little boy decided to play the 'I don't want to go home' game and I scrouched down to his level, asked him to look at my eyes and told him we would bring out the Leap Pads tomorrow, but he had to be really good for his mom and put on his jacket. And he listened!!
#2 - I was shocked and surprised at this success. And so was his mom.
She then asked how his toilet training went that day. I said, "Perfect!" She said at home, he won't even try. He cries and screams and will not even try to go any more.
#3 - I think his mom felt a little defeated. Why is her son so different at daycare??
She left and I thought of the ways 'toilet training' is working for him here.
He is doing what 'the big kids do'. All four of them go to the bathroom before they go outside, after meals, before watching Toy Story (or reading books).
It is a routine. We do (much of) the same thing day in and day out. Often 'something good' follows going to the bathroom. We head off and do something that I don't want interrupted by one-of-four needing to go to the bathroom.
Expectations never (ever) change here.
I expect these guys to listen, be respectful (to me and to everyone else) and do their best. My mom has often reminded me "They are only two!!" and I shake my head and think "WOW!! They are only two and look how good they are doing!!"
Some of my days, I feel like I'm banging my head against a cement wall. I do the same things over and over. I say the same things over and over. I have to remind everyone of the same things over and over. I feel like Bill Murray's character in 'Ground Hog Day'. I feel like I'm caught in a time warp, running in circles and getting no where.
Then I have a day like yesterday.
All four of 'my kids' went home happily and without making their parents feel badly for working all day.
All four of 'my kids' had a relatively successful day in caring, sharing, being kind and taking turns.
All four of 'my kids' have been listening all along.
Sometimes, it is the littlest things that make the biggest difference. Watching little people be kind to one another, using their manners and doing hard things (taking turns when you are 'only two' is one of the hardest things in the world) is one of life's greatest rewards.
These little guys are going to grow up one day. If they leave my daycare with the mantra 'Be kind. Use your manners. Care. Share." running through their brains on auto replay, my work here is done.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Be Gentle Out There
I let the weight of my world fall onto my shoulders one morning and allowed myself to succumb to the emotions that came to the surface.
Heavy thoughts entered into my mind and I felt them.
I didn't know what to do with these feelings so I turned on some music, played a mindless game of solitaire and sang.
Music speaks directly to my soul. I found a song that hit home and played it over and over again. I found another song that hurt my heart. I couldn't sing the words. The tears started to roll down my cheeks and I simply felt.
I purged the emotions that hit me like waves in the solitude of my morning. I simply existed without pretense or any form of outward strength.
I felt raw and vulnerable when I picked myself up up and had a cleansing shower before I faced the day ahead of me.
I met a friend for lunch. I dropped by to see another friend on my way home.
I felt raw and ragged inside. I was sore and I was hurting.
I couldn't believe that no one could see through the veneer I had erected around my outer self. I felt hollow and vulnerable but carried on in my regular, ordinary fashion. And no one saw through the cracks.
That realization stopped me in my tracks.
How many other people are out there, wading through that-which-must-be-done on a daily basis feeling broken inside?
I replayed my day and wondered what I may have missed as I spoke with friends about things-that-really-don't-matter. We had conversations which did not break beneath the surface. There is a very good chance (a certainty, I am almost sure) they had their own 'cracks' which I did not peek through and ask about what I did not see.
I was conscious of this throughout the week that followed.
I kept my iron curtain closed and talked about nothing to those who crossed my path. The better I knew a person, the less I revealed.
I had a conversation with a friend who I tell all. I told her nothing. She told me of what was transpiring within her busy, hectic and often stressful life. It was a conversation like many others. She knows me better than I know myself but she did not hear the difference within me.
We talked a week later.
I was ready to open up and reveal my hurting heart. She said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
I told her I had to come to terms with things in my own head and heart first. During that quiet week, I realized that is what I do each and every time I am standing on the precipice of a time-of-great-change.
I get very quiet. I keep to myself. I need to think my own thoughts before I am ready to share them with the world and allow others inside. I need to be strong in my own conviction before I'm ready to buffer the opinions of those who-are-not-walking-in-my-shoes.
I explained this to my friend and she immediately found herself within my words. "I do exactly the same thing" was her thoughtful response.
Each of us opened our door of vulnerability and shared that-which-we-dared-not-speak-aloud.
Taking the words out of your head and putting a voice to them is not an easy thing to do.
Opening up and baring an open wound is a risk.
No one wants their deepest fears trampled on or cast aside. No one wants to hear someone tell them what to do or how to feel. No one wants their trust to be shattered by laying it all out on the line and no one 'hearing' them.
Yet opening up and releasing the very words which you have been guarding so closely takes the power and impact of those words out of your head and out into the open where they can be seen, heard and felt with greater perspective.
There have been times I have withheld the 'good stuff' and held it near and dear to my heart just as closely. That very same 'power' is a wonderful thing when it is a head and heart full of words and emotions, that make your heart sing. They tend to lose some of their impact when shared.
Be gentle out there. You just never know what someone is not saying when you think they are telling you so much.
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