Soul Food

Apparently, the former non-church going, against organized religion girl is now being inspired to blog about sermons from church. I guess I need to give some credit to Pastor Jeff. A couple Sundays ago his sermon mentioned that ministering happened in more places than just church, and the importance of fellowship in the days of Jesus. He talked about some of the church activities such as the Thursday night dinners, created to provide food for those that needed it, but that fellowship was perhaps the more important thing these individuals received. He mentioned the fellowship time after the service and that it was a time to gather and connect with one another. What got me thinking was the mention of food and its importance in not just nourishing the body, but feeding the soul when shared together. I am a food girl. Five or six years ago I went to a board lunch with my dad, as his date. Afterward, he told my mom I had “quite an appetite.” My friends at work jokingly laugh with me that I am motivated by food. I admit that I am a three meals a day and snacks girl. Before I had kids (back when I actually had time) I used to love finding recipes to try. Anyone that read my blog last summer knows that I embarked on a project to research my family’s food choices and made some changes based on what I discovered. I pride myself on feeding my kids well. I have made conscience decisions to not make a big deal out of food, because research shows that creates issues later in life. I provide my kids with plenty of healthy food, only require a “no-thank-you” bite of anything at dinner, and don’t force anything, or at least not much. I realized as I listened to the sermon a couple weeks ago, that despite my front of food not being a big deal, food is a big deal to me. Food is more than just nourishment to me. I always look at how the food is presented on the plate, and try to make sure I have a variety of colors and textures. But more than the appearance is the event of eating. I try to make dinner a family time, although with a one and a four year old, this often means a constant getting this and that and cleaning up messes. But I try to ask everyone at the table how their day was. Dinner is a time to reconnect with my family after being away from them all day. Food is both how I celebrate and how I mourn. When something good happens, I tend to want to go out to eat to celebrate, or at least go out for dessert. When life hands me more than I can handle, I seek comfort in a meal with the ones I love. When I want to show appreciation, I tend to think of hosting a meal or taking someone out for one. Food is definitely tied to emotion for me. All the research and articles that say this emotional attachment to food is unhealthy, well, they just might be wrong. Maybe they don’t take emotional health into consideration. My emotional attachment to food has not led to obesity, or high cholesterol, or high blood pressure for me. Granted, some of this is the luck of genetics, but some of it is not. Maybe the nourishment of my soul, through the fellowship of a shared meal, has unmeasurable and un-researchable benefits. So long live the food girls…

Failure is an opportunity to do things again, only better

I currently receive three parenting magazines – Parents, Parenting, and Working Mother. I didn’t subscribe to any of them. My husband told me he ordered one from a fundraiser, but couldn’t remember which one. So if anyone reading got me a magazine subscription – thanks! I usually browse through them in the car, or when I am trying to stay awake past 9 pm. There are many things in them I find interesting, some things I find useful, but rarely anything I find to be earth-shattering or rocket science. But not too long ago, I encountered a simple, seven paragraph article that really made me think. The article was written by a dad – rare in the parenting magazines that are marketed to moms. The author referenced the book, “The Last Lecture,” by Randy Pausch, one of my all-time favorites. The book is a collection of advice and thoughts from the author, who was dying of pancreatic cancer. It is thoughtful, funny, sad, and above all, inspiring. The book inspired the writer of the article to ponder what advice he would give his own children. The one that caught my eye was, “Failure is an opportunity to do things again, only better.” For a fear-of-failure person like myself, this is good, but hard to swallow advice. Especially lately. Jack is reaching an age where some of my mistakes are becoming apparent, and requiring some undoing. He worries too much – probably a product of my constantly worrying and telling him to watch out, be careful, stay safe. I’ve gotten sucked into arguments with him too many times – he thinks he can argue all the time now. I’ve given in and spoiled him too many times – now he thinks he is entitled to treats and toys. While I know parenting is a learn-on-the-job kind of thing, I still hate making mistakes. I hate admitting them even more. But I guess I should remember I can do things better tomorrow, and next week, and with Brett (and make almost as many mistakes with him, just different ones!). I also thought about the situation with my parents the past few months. Nowhere in my life have I ever felt like I failed so much. I often think if I had gotten my mom help sooner, she never would have fallen and wouldn’t have the lasting issues she will always have to manage. If I had been tougher earlier on, she would have gotten more care, and had less issues. If I hadn’t tried to balance care for my mom and compassion for my dad, maybe situations would have been different. I’ll never know. Most days, I wish I could have a second chance at the whole thing. As hard as it is, I need to remember I have an opportunity to do things better, every day. I need to remind myself to seize the opportunity, rather than dwell on the regret. Easy to say, tough to do. So whoever sent me the subscription to whatever magazine I read that advice in – thanks. You gave me a much needed reminder that I have opportunities in front of me, and to get ‘em!

Mean

I am a Taylor Swift fan. Say what you want, I think the girl is darn talented, mature way beyond her years, and cute to boot! When Jack was about 2 ½, he declared that Taylor Swift was his girlfriend and he wanted to invite her over for dinner. When asked what we should serve her, he said hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, and peas. My well rounded little eater! Because Jack and I both love Taylor, we listen to her a lot. Her latest album is a good one. The other day, her latest single, Mean, struck a chord with me (pun intended!). Taylor was inspired to write the song about critics that were, well, mean to her. They wrote nasty things just to be mean. We all know these people. We’ve met them as kids in school; we’ve met them at parties; and we’ve met them at work. Specifically, most recently, I’ve met them at work. I have workplace bullies. They don’t beat me up, or take my lunch money. But they are no better than the kids in school or the critics Taylor sings about. They criticize the work I do. They use their position to get what they want, at the expense of others, or sometimes, the entire organization. They talk about people (I’m sure me) behind their backs. They are rude. They are snobby. They are, simply put, mean. I’ve spent too much time questioning my abilities and worrying about what they say. I was reminded of this fact the other day as I sang along with Taylor, loudly. (Because, I sing like a rock star in the car, by myself; unfortunately, my abilities disappear whenever someone is within earshot. Strange.) So, to my workplace bullies – you know who you are – “Some day, I’ll be, big enough so you can’t hit me. But all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

Picture Post!

I realized I hadn't done a picture post since the fall!! So, here are the last few months with our family, just, ya know, on speed. :)

Jack is playing T-ball this spring and LOVES it! It helps that he is great at it!

My photogenic little Monkey! He's very into saying "CHEESE" right now!

When did my baby get so big???

Brett loved our little "nature walk" at Aunt D'Lynn's.

LOVE this picture!!

My funny, silly boy!

Brothers

Taking care of this baby is exhausting... :) What a smile :)

Jack's Tumble class Christmas program - what a great performer he is!!

The fam

My little Mama's boy

The Joy of Parenting

I recently read an article online stating that studies were finding that people with children were reporting they were less happy than their childless counterparts. And when people reached the "empty nester" age, there was little difference in the happiness reported among those with grown children and those without. The article went on to discuss if the "joys of parenting" were simply a myth, created by parents to cope with the stress of child rearing. I started to ponder this idea... I certainly am not going to claim that motherhood is all smiles and a walk down easy street. I am certainly not always happy; although, I've said before, I am a glass-half-empty girl. Part of my unhappiness is my own doing. There is plenty about raising two young boys that is anything but fun and certainly unglamorous. Since I continue to make it through each day, I have obviously learned to function on less sleep, but I will never learn to be OK with it. The whining drives me insane. And the rowdiness and roughness of two boys is often a little more than this quiet, likes-to-read-books, mom can handle. The worrying that accompanies parenting is exhausting. And don't even get me started on how much those little monsters cost... However, until I read this article, along with the impressive statistics about happiness levels in it, the idea had never occurred to me that maybe I was just blindly believing the long perpetuated myth that children were "worth it." I started to wonder if my unhappiness was really rooted in my decision to be a parent. Maybe those messy miniature human beings taking over my house were the root of everything that was wrong, and *GASP*, a mistake. Then I looked over at my large collection of pictures of those little people. The ones I frame and display where I can see them because they make me smile and make me feel better when I am unhappy. I started to think about each of them and the moments that have made up their short little lives so far. I thought about the time we had to take Jack to the ER because of a bad case of croup, and I remembered the overwhelming flood of relief when they got him a breathing treatment and a dose of steroids and he started breathing normally again. I remembered my long, hard delivery of Brett, and that as soon as the doctor handed him to me, I completely forgot about the pain and the wreck my body was at that moment. I thought of Jack's laugh. I thought of Brett's smile. I thought about all the times they have made me smile, and laugh, and cry tears of joy and pride. Maybe for some people, the joy of parenting is a myth. I see plenty of parents that choose themselves over their kids; that work long hours all week and then pay babysitters to watch their kids on the weekend. I've never wanted to make that choice. A good Friday night is t-ball practice and a frozen pizza. For me, parenting is a joy. Not every minute, and sometimes not even every day. But I have to believe there are those huge moments which flood me with emotion that more than make up for the days when they drive me crazy and when I wish I could just get some sleep. Today is a Happy Mother's Day. And overall, most every other day is, too!