Friday, January 28, 2011

Hello, Right Hand? Meet Left Hand, and Please Take Heed of What the other is Doing

I've been dreading this week....

Particularly because my inner Grover insists there's a monster at the end of it.  Particularly on Saturday.

It's a scheduling cluster#@$%, erm, nightmare.

Kelsey's Girl Scouts troupe has been working very hard on their display on Korea that will be part of the annual International Festival.  Kelsey digs learning about new cultures and ethnicities.  A lot.  Earlier in the month I was planning out my calendar, and at some point I had a jotted a note reading:

So I got about it and lo!  The Girl Scout Council of our town had scheduled the International Festival on January 29th.

But wait, Kelsey had another commitment on the 29th.  As in, my little Special K (my newest nickname for her!) had earned herself a place in the district spelling bee after kicking some booty in the school bee.

Now, some of you know that in my former career, I was something of an executive scheduler, and as such, am a little O-to-the-C-to-the-D when it comes to those pesky little things called details...so, when organizations that work with school-age children schedule major events fail to consult the academic calendars, respective to the population they serve, it grates on my nerves much like the waitstaff at the Olive Garden manage to do with the parmigiano.  Because clearly nothing says, "We're training your girls up to be short-sighted leaders - but it will be meaningful and fun along the way!" than a myopic planning maneuver such as this.  Oh, the other pet peeve is that our town's IF is not listed on the Events Planner portion of the GS COLORADO website, but the neighboring town's is listed as if it is the only one for our region, in February....seriously, these people need some admin skillz!

So there was my visceral reaction - but then Kelsey's was somewhat heartbreaking.  She quickly melted down into her woebegone state that is fairly common anytime anything deviates AT.ALL  from how she expected things to be (I feel for my future son-in-law, how I feel for him and pray for a gentle, long-suffering soul to step into that future role!).  Then she said, "Well, then I just won't do the spelling bee - I'll do the International Festival instead!"

At this point, the tiger mom in me - who normally pushes the snooze button and stays in hibernation as long as possible - came out and said, "No ma'am.  You most certainly are not going to forsake an academic activity for some fluffy little foreign fair.  You're going to spell like a champ, like it or not.  This is not the first time you'll have to make a decision in a conflict, so put on your big girl panties and suck it up, buttercup."  Because I have principles, and academics are important in them.  So are actual leadership/service learning opportunities - if they were going to help out at Habitat for Humanity that Saturday, I'd have probably let her skip the spelling bee.  But to forsake it just to go hang out with a group of girls, many of them the mean girl types at that, gabbing about Bieber and Taylor Swift and what clothes are in while they go and participate in a Cliff Notes version of world travel?  Nah.....

So....after that it stood that our weekend schedule would look like this:
Saturday:
Leave the house at 7:00 am in order to get from our northern-most district home to the southern-most district school by 7:30
7:30 - check-in at the spelling bee
8:00 - 9:30 Wait as Kelsey completes the written spelling bee exam - if she makes the cut, then we go on to oral round at 10:00
10:00-noon - Oral Round .... OR if she gets cut, make a mad dash to the other side of town and get her to the IF

Meanwhile, I will have both of the boys because Seth was informed at the beginning of the month that this was his Saturday to work.

And I'm on deadline for some grantwriting.

And holy cow am I realizing just how diligent I have to be with the time management trying to get this all done....

Also?  You extracurricular people who can't plan to save your life are putting a big rain cloud on my parade!


© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Oh Snap!!

Today an old HS friend emailed me with some questions about changing up blog templates, code and what have you...

I told her I knew some, but really just enough to be dangerous.

And then I got a hankering to finish the attempts I'd made at customizing this template's header - which I did and am very pleased with the results.

However....

In doing so, I completely wiped out my blogrolls!

And my memory really fails me when it comes to remembering stuff that is automated (and I'm kind of old fashioned and still click through to people's sites instead of reading a feed :gasp:).

So, if you're not already on here and would like to be, please leave your url in a comment.

Thanks!

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Resorting to the Bottle

This winter has zapped me of a certain joie di vivre...

While the sun is visiting more tropical elsewheres, oft-sunny Colorado has had to suffer through a dulled down version of its usually radiant natural beauty.  Even in winter, we usually have crystal blues and bright whites to lure us into venturing outdoors, despite the cold.  But not this winter.

Skies blanketed with clouds cast a sallow film onto the already scarce daylight.  Coupled with the bitter cold January has brought with it, and the winds, the infernal winds!, this muted experience has resulted in my hermit-like (for me, that is) retreat to the indoors, making the days long and weary.

Then there are the voices of doubt.  Those that question me frequently enough that I question my reality.

These things have got me hankering for a bit of liquid courage.

Something to drown out the voices and make the day shine a little bit more.

Help me find a little bit of comfort and spice.

Oh, wait, before you go all Intervention on me, let me clarify:

I'm not talking about Smirnoff, merlot, or Coors.

No, behold; the bottle of which I speak:

You see, with me staying increasingly indoors, the afore mentioned sallowness and muted colors have not only applied to the scenery outdoors, but to my hair as well.  Just as a blonde's hair dulls up in the winter, so does mine lose some (though certainly not all) of the coppery undertones.

The voices?  Only the frequent commenters who inquire as to where my son(s) gets his red hair from, while I (and often Seth too, with his red beard) am standing right there!

So....after a long period on the non-hair-coloring wagon (nothing has touched my hair since the highlights I did when Christopher was a newborn), I've fallen off in hopes of escaping the reality of this situation.

And I likey.

Disclaimer:  both pictures are in the same crappily lit room, my bathroom, for equal opportunity purposes.  No make-up is being worn in either picture, so please brace yourselves for what you are about to see.  My face is noticeably redder in the second picture only because I exfoliated while in the shower in which I washed out my hair; the new color does not make my skin look like that!  Finally, picture quality is not great, but it's what I've got.

Before

After

I think this was just the mid-winter pick-me-up  that I needed.



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Metaphorical Fish

Last week I was something of a mess.  To say the least.  


But you know me....I don't do the whole minimalist thing, right?  


Sooooooooooooo.....about last week...


Our family was recovering from what is now being referred to as the 2010 Year-End Pukefest, a quaint little GI bug that tore through EVERY family member with a vengeance for almost a whole week.  The laundry was epic, taunting me to the point of overwhelmed tears.  My wee baby boy, Mr. >5th %ile for Weight, didn't eat, save for breastmilk, for a whole week, turning his already scrawny form into downright gaunt...and that is not just a hypersensitive mama growing paranoid, this is a noticeable weight loss that caused comments from others.  Yeah, that helped too.


The older kids went back to school, and though the officially dreaded re-entry day was smooth, the subsequent ones were not.  As in I completely lost my cool with Kelsey, in one of her horribly defiant I-will-NOT-go-to-my-room-even-if-it-is-more-for-you-to-cool-down-than-it-is-for-me-to-be-in-trouble moments, and while it didn't escalate physically, it prompted Colton to retrieve the phone and inform me he was dialing 911 because he was so scared.  Well.  If that's not enough to deflate the hot air running the anger balloon and cause it to create a heaping pile of GUILT I don't know what will do it for ya....


And then, as we had been healthy for mere days and just in time for the weekend :read: Urgent Care, Christopher began to cough.  And run intermittent fevers.  During which time he became attached to my hip, or breasts as the still-nursing case may be, and any separation to said appendages was cause for marathon meltdowns.  And the non-eating resumed.  A myriad of PTSD-like emotions, due to the coughing and intermittent fevers triggering memories of my own hellish journey, legitimate maternal worry, and battle fatigue set in.


The low-grade, ambient stress regarding my potential return to work gnawed at me as a big cloud of UNKNOWN loomed over me.  I can deal with a lot of things, but UNKNOWN is akin to Alice's Jabberwocky: a formidable foe that initially scares the muchness out of me.  Eventually, I can get to a point where I can slay the UNKNOWN as Alice totally made the Jabberwocky her b!t*#, but as of last week, I was still in the "Oh, hells no!" phase regarding defeating the UNKNOWN.  As such, it was kicking my booty.  Not to mention the fact that after I'd submitted my application, I got a response from a local non-profit re: a grant consulting proposal I'd sent them.  Their response was yes, they would like me to contract with them on an on-going basis.  So then I was torn between was that the right thing and I was abandoning that, testing God, in favor of the higher-paying, more family-time sacrificing job at the city?  Mother guilt X the UNKNOWN = WRECK


It was no surprise then, that I cried at the drop of a hat over E.V.E.R.Y thing.  Movies.  TV shows [that I'd already seen!].  Songs.  Intonation in my child's voice surely meant that I was a failure at everything.  And was so irritable with Seth that super stoopid things became grounds for verbal grudge matches.  


Not pretty, right?


Monday, I took Chris to the doctor.  Diagnosis: double ear infection and croup - not killer pneumonia as my paranoia had tried to persuade me.  Easily fixed with some time and medication.


Then, I called the HR department at the city, and anonymously inquired as to where they were in the hiring process for The Position.


"Oh, well, they've already interviewed and I think they've got a person in mind now.  Thanks for your interest."


My first instinct was self-defeating, that maybe-I-did-something-so-wrong-that-it-negated-all-the-previously-glowing-commentary-from-my-former-boss thing - serious self-doubt, ya know?  I mean, they didn't even call me for an interview!  That lasted for maybe 5 seconds though.


And then...


You asked Me for a roadblock if it wasn't where I wanted you right now.  You told me MY will and not yours, remember?


Ok, God.  I get that.  And yes, things DO happen for a reason, and so I will trust that.  In the meantime, could You shed some light on this for me?  Clarify just where we're going with this whole exercise?  I mean, uh, the money has to come from somewhere right?  And it's, uh, not there.  So, while we're on this whole 'you said' schtick, might I remind You that You said  You had 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,' so, don't forget that, mmm-kay?  Thanks.


Sidenote - I know that kind of prayer seems irreverent to some, and for you I will apologize.  My intent is not to offend - I just think that God wants my heart, my real heart and not some Pope-ish, rote acceptance of the things that don't quite seem fair or clear.  So we are real with each other like that.


Yesterday was good.

Today I went to a non-profit networking meeting and it felt good.  A peace that things would fall into place covered me.  A few people inquired about my consulting services and asked me to follow up with them.

Tonight I got a voice mail, informing me of a key opportunity with which to substantially expand my [from-home] grant-writing business.  All through church I kept feeling goosebumps.  That phone call that quieted that small, albeit powerful, voice of self-doubt I heard the other day.  When I followed up on it and spoke to the person who'd called me, I was buzzing with gratitude my Heavenly Father for the very real potential that lay before me.

In early December, I was about to give up on the consulting endeavor, as I hadn't managed to get many bites.

I'm reminded of a story in Luke Ch. 5:

One day as Jesus was preaching on the shore of the Sea of Galilee,[a]great crowds pressed in on him to listen to the word of God. 2 He noticed two empty boats at the water’s edge, for the fishermen had left them and were washing their nets. 3 Stepping into one of the boats, Jesus asked Simon,[b]its owner, to push it out into the water. So he sat in the boat and taught the crowds from there. 

 4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Now, go out where it is deeper, and let down your nets to catch some fish.”

 5 “Master,” Simon replied, “we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But, if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.”

6 And this time their nets were so full of fish they began to tear! 7 A shout for help brought their partners in the other boat, and soon both boats were filled with fish and on the verge of sinking.

 8 When Simon Peter realized what had happened, he fell to his knees before Jesus and said, “Oh, Lord, please leave me—I’m too much of a sinner to be around you.” 9 For he was awestruck by the number of fish they had caught, as were the others with him. 10His partners, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, were also amazed.

Jesus replied to Simon, “Don’t be afraid! From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” 11 And as soon as they landed, they left everything and followed Jesus.
This year is going to be a deep-water year, I have a feeling.

© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved

Thursday, January 6, 2011

I Didn't Wanna Do It

I'm not much for the so called genre known as Chick Lit, nor do I find myself drawn towards the books Oprah has endorsed as worthy for her club.

As such, Eat Pray Love held no real appeal to me, with the whole premise of glob-trotting to find oneself being completely irrelevant (and impractical) to my life - I didn't feel a connection would be made.  And I didn't see that it fit in with my values, seeing as its plot hinges upon the dissolution of a marriage - apparently for little compelling reason, other than the oft-cited, self-indulgent "I fell out of love."  That whole vein of thinking is a selfish cop-out to me, being that I've fallen out of love with my own husband about as many times as I've fallen in love with him over the years, and where would we be if I'd been so selfish to call it quits on those grounds alone?

Lately, I've been in a funk though, and found myself craving something inspirational, if not just a couple hours of thought-provocation.  So I added Eat Pray Love, the movie, to my Netflix queue.

And promptly fell in love with it.  So much so, that I now want to read the book.

Oh, Julia Roberts' character, Elizabeth Gilbert, struck me as selfish alright - but lately, I have seen myself in that light, too.  It was nice to be able to project my frustrations with myself onto someone else for a couple hours for a change.

Some of the more new age-y concepts of God didn't align with mine - particularly that of God dwelling within you...as you.  Theological tangent in 3..2..1: I agree that God dwells within those who choose Him and commit to Him, that's called the Holy Spirit - and I even agree with Gilbert's assertion (below) inasmuch that God lives in any of us, despite our tempers, our ambitions, emotions, etc., but God does not conform to us by living in us, as us, nor does He conform us all into the same type of Stepford-like person.  Instead He transforms us into beings that are closer to Him and His will, as he takes up residence in our diverse, as He intentionally created them to be, souls and personalities.
God's not interested in watching a performance of how a 'spiritual' person looks and behaves. The quiet girl who glides silently through the place with a gentle, ethereal smile...who is that person? It's Ingrid Bergman in "The Bells of St. Mary's" – not me.
That does ring true...I certainly don't think that Mary Magdalene and a bunch of ignorant fishers, some with tempers, were the quiet, spiritual types with ethereal smiles, speaking "Peace be with you," to passersby - and yet, these are the types among whom Jesus chose to dwell.  God wanted them, and He wants me, as me, and you too.

So, overall?  I found some nuggets of wisdom and inspiration that I'm that surprisingly resonated with me.
A friend took me to the most amazing place the other day. It's called the Augusteum. Octavian Augustus built it to house his remains. When the barbarians came they trashed it a long with everything else. The great Augustus, Rome's first true great emperor. How could he have imagined that Rome, the whole world as far as he was concerned, would be in ruins. It's one of the quietest, loneliest places in Rome. The city has grown up around it over the centuries. It feels like a precious wound, a heartbreak you won't let go of because it hurts too good. We all want things to stay the same. Settle for living in misery because we're afraid of change, of things crumbling to ruins. Then I looked at around to this place, at the chaos it has endured - the way it has been adapted, burned, pillaged and found a way to build itself back up again. And I was reassured, maybe my life hasn't been so chaotic, it's just the world that is, and the real trap is getting attached to any of it. Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.
This made me think of the whole beauty for ashes passage in Scripture, and comforted me, particularly the thought about getting too attached to the events of life.

The largest nugget, though, would be the Quest Physics conclusion, emphasis mine:
In the end, I've come to believe in something I call "The Physics of the Quest." A force in nature governed by laws as real as the laws of gravity. The rule of Quest Physics goes something like this: If you're brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting, which can be anything from your house to bitter, old resentments, and set out on a truth-seeking journey, either externally or internally, and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher and if you are prepared, most of all, to face and forgive some very difficult realities about yourself, then the truth will not be withheld from you. 

Again, as a Christian, I see this through a bit of a different, albeit complimentary, lens.  Mainly, I feel  the Truth Gilbert speaks of is none other than Jesus, but all the same I see a parallel in this quest physics theorem with the whole spiel that He gave about us denying ourselves, taking up our crosses and following Him.  In doing such, I believe that one of the biggest crosses we have to bear is that of the blinds we wear regarding our innermost workings – that unless we look long and hard at ourselves and take an honest inventory and repent of those things counter to what God has in mind for us, unless we take up that cross, all the other ones we may carry, our jobs, roles and relationships, etc., are in vain.  It’s kind of like in The Power of a Praying Wife, when Stormie Omartian realizes that the ‘Father, change him’ prayer is far less important than that of ‘Father, change me.’  But, it’s not all blame and shame for the self – as Gilbert states, once we see the difficult realities about ourselves, we.  must.  move.  ON!  lest we simply want to pick that sucker [cross] up and just stand there with it.  We gotta follow the Leader, and to do so, we have to want to be different and follow the trail He’s blazing, not the one we’ve trod on forever, comfortably.

For myself, I’ve been in limbo lately re: the whole working versus staying at home conundrum as a result of the recent job opportunity.  [should hear something late next week or early the following week]. 

On the one hand, I’ve seen some things flourish in the time that I’ve been at home that I’m afraid to let go of, should I get the go-ahead from God (right now our prayer is – God, we *think* this was a sign from you, but if it is not, please prohibit it from happening – if it is, let there be incredible peace and green lights all the way).  Like Elizabeth Gilbert’s quest for balance, I desperately sought to improve my family dynamics when I embarked on this journey.  But, also like Gilbert, in doing so I eradicated anything in my life that I thought would distract me from my quest.  I quit volunteering in the non-profit community; I turned down opportunities to speak and participate in homeless programming panels under the guise of not having childcare and/or still needing to recover from my illness; I’ve flaked on countless friends and family and insulated myself to where I’ve focused all my energies into my family.  As Gilbert became the woman who couldn't possibly risk her newfound self by loving a man, I’ve become that martyr-like woman who’s made her family her idol and dares not risk her newfound sense of family by pursuing interests that feed her essence, that person God created her to be.  A mother is never “just” a mother – she is a child of God with her own unique gifts, talents and purpose, many of which will [and should] benefit her family, but need not be exclusive to that.

Whether I get the job or not, I want to find some kind of balance again.  One where my husband and I make time for each other alone, beyond the bedroom.  Where I can volunteer some time and give back.  Where I feel as if I am answering the call to be a light in my community, not just my own home; however, not forsaking my own family in doing so.  I want to feel secure again, to not feel the tightening of the walls each time my phone rings, dreading whichever creditor it may be.  I want to write again – creatively and frankly – and yet, I’ve looked back and seen that my most prolific writing periods were those in which I had to balance many things. 

All this inspired by a movie based on a book I thought I’d hate.  


Amazing what happens when one opens her mind, eh?



© 2006-present Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-Child. All Rights Reserved