Never Underestimate the Power of Stupid

In the name of love (or pride, or a desire to not lose, or any other number of things), people can do some pretty stupid stuff. 

Case in point:  Yesterday, my family and I were spending some quality time at Martinak State Park, a lovely wooded area resting on the Choptank River, where Rashieme and I plan on getting married this summer.  This quiet state park features trees and shade and sunshine and trails and, to my daughter's delight, several playgrounds.  We were checking out each one as we had spent the day with Shieme's mom and were now just a few hours away from a meeting with a local restaurant owner, whose establishment we were checking out as a possible venue for a reception location.  Knowing we were having this meeting, I had opted to wear a sundress and cloth slip-on flats.

Being that I was dressed up, I opted out of Rashieme and Kaliah's game of tag at the first playground, which began with hysterical laughter and blissful joy and then eventually ended in tears because, much like her mommy, Kaliah does not like to lose.  We ventured on to the second playground which featured a tall spiral slide that looked promising, but unfortunately was not all that slippery, and Kaliah slid down with a dismal look on her face that made it clear that she'd rather be practicing fractions.  So off we went to the third location, where we discovered a completely in-tact piece of playground equipment that featured several different entrances/exits:  slides, monkey-bar style extensions, a rock climbing wall, etc.

Kaliah immediately came up with the idea of an obstacle course.  She explained that we would have to each take a turn using each of the "exits" and whoever could successful exit all avenues of the equipment the fastest would be declared the winner.  I certainly wasn't dressed for it, but what can I say?  One should never underestimate the power of stupid.  I'd like to claim that I did it out of my love for my child and desire to bond with her and spend quality time making memories.

But the truth is, I probably just wanted to win.

For those of you who don't know me, I am stupid competitive.

So her daddy yelled go, and off we went.  On the very first small slide, I struggled to keep my skirt covering everything it should cover, then scrambled back to the steps of the main entrance to navigate the next exit.  Despite my shaky start, Kaliah and I were neck and neck.  My long legs worked to my advantage, as did my height, when it came to jumping from certain points instead of climbing down.

We were maybe two minutes in, both running out of breath, both laughing and scampering about, and I was down to one remaining obstacle.  But first I had to re-enter the equipment.  Seeing that my daughter was already on the main entrance, (the steps), and deciding to go around her and cut in front of her, I opted to climb a short slide instead of race around, putting myself behind her.  As I jumped on the slide and began striding upwards, I immediately realized the error of my ways, as my cloth shoes had absolutely no traction and I began slipping back down, like a surfer skimming a wave.  I tried to stop the momentum, but somehow my legs got tangled up and I went sailing over backwards, falling with a resounding thud, as I crashed down on my legs, back, and shoulder, head clunking down into the stupid wood shavings that always line these kinds of play ground.

"Alright, you're done," Daddy the referee announced, shaking his head as he strode over to help me up.  Meanwhile Kaliah was shrieking in amazement and I was laughing so hard I was almost crying.  Rashieme pulled me to my feet, and both of them went to work brushing the wood chips from my sweater, dress, and hair.

"We've got a meeting in an hour.  'What happened to her?' 'Playground accident?'" Rashieme demanded, rolling his eyes.

"But I was doing so good," I protested.  "I think I was winning."

Clearly, I wasn't.  Not after the Cloth-Shoe-Sliding-Board-Fall.

Lesson Learned:  When you're trying to beat the pants off your kid at some outdoor activity, wear sneakers.

And maybe a helmet.

And something other than a dress with granny panties underneath.

For the record, Rashieme and Kaliah went next.  With the aid of sneakers and pants (as opposed to a skirt), Rashieme beat her by a landslide.  He didn't even need the helmet.

Please Pardon My Brief Absence...

So it's been a little over the week that normally goes by in between my obligatory blog posts, but I have a decent excuse:

EASTER!

Well, and the exhaustive daily events leading up to this joyous celebration.

My family and I had a beautiful Easter, and I pray that you did, as well.  We attended an awesome Easter service at our church home, Oak Ridge Baptist, where we were blessed with an inspiring abundance of visitors, tons of people getting baptized, and many first-time decisions for Christ.  It was a humbling experience, a day full of celebration.

We continued the good times at my mother's house, where she prepared a delicious meal for my family.  Kaliah got to dye eggs with my brother's girlfriend's kids, and it was really cool that after being the only child in the family for so long, she finally had somebody else to play with.  (Rashieme enjoyed it too.  An epic game of freeze tag may or may not have went down, in which I discovered I'm quite possibly NOT the fastest person in the family, in spite all of the miles I try to cram into each month).

So the holiday was about our Savior and time together as a family.  Mommom offered to take Kaliah for a few days, so Shieme and I can get some grown-up time in.  I'm hoping we'll get a chance to do a little wedding planning and a lot of relaxing.  I'm also going to have to squeeze in several errands of a boring nature, so I feel very blessed to have off this entire week from work.

But I know you guys don't stop on over just to hear the mundane details of my routine.  You're looking for funny.  So try this on for size:

'Twas the night before Easter, and I was freaking exhausted.

I'd just worked a shift at the Cottage.  It wasn't even really busy, but I'm not getting any younger, and it HAD been super slammed the night before, which I had also worked.  I got home just a little after Kaliah's bedtime, so since she woke as I entered the house, I had to run in and give her a quick kiss and a belated Bible story.  I headed back into the living room and collapsed onto our recliner, with the intention of waiting for her to venture off into total slumber before I began filling her Easter basket.  I even went so far as to ask Rashieme where the basket was, as earlier that day Kaliah had tried to fill it with dirt and leaves to create a nest for a robin's egg I found for her-- that's another story that ultimately ended in tragedy, so we'll save that one for another day).  He located the basket for me, and I promptly fell asleep in the chair, drooling and protesting that I was still awake as Rashieme tried to force me off to bed.

So naturally, I totally forgot to play the Easter Bunny.

I forgot until Kaliah was standing over me Easter morning, demanding, "Where's the candy?"

"Umm... the Easter Bunny must be running late," I muttered, kicking myself for having dropped the ball.

"I think you're the Easter Bunny," Kaliah responded.

"No, no.  You don't believe in the Easter Bunny, you don't get candy," I warned her.  "I'm sure he's just running late.  Go take a bath!  Maybe he didn't come because you're too dirty."

"What?  That's--"

"Go take a bath!"

So as she reluctantly headed off to the tub, I went racing outside in my robe and sneakers, hauling in the crap I'd bought and not brought in the night before, jamming Easter grass and jelly beans and chocolate eggs and rabbits haphazardly in the Easter basket, just managing to fling the last of the packaging materials into the garbage as Kaliah emerged from what has GOT to be the world's quickest bath.

"Why do you have Easter grass in your hands?"

"The Easter bunny left a mess!  Look, he came and went while you were in the bath tub.  How about that?"

If she hadn't quite stopped believing, I'm pretty sure that yesterday I effectively ended any remaining confidence she held in the Easter bunny's existence... but hey, what mattered to her the most was the candy.  I was immediately forgiven for any crimes I may or may not have committed as she dug into her goods.  Soon, it was time for the next battle:

The wearing of the Easter Dress.

And such are the holidays, and such is life:  a series of battles, big and small, a journey of mistakes and apologies, mountain peeks and valley lows.  Smiles and laughter, tears of joy and sorrow.  Thanks, dear readers, for checking in.  May you never forget to play the Easter Bunny, and may the peace of the Savior comfort you, no matter what your highs or lows may be in this supremely special existence.

Happy Easter!

Abort, Retry, Ignore?

So, THIS is gonna sound like fiction:

 

My fortune cookie's message from last night's dinner.

 

Hmmm.

 

So of course the writer in me is thinking:  should this become a True Tale of Everyday Crazy to add to my collection?

 

Or is this a brand new novel idea, ripe with potential?

 

I'll be pondering it on my run.  The run I'm actually going to take.  I'm feeling the need to assure everyone that I am still a runner, mainly because Rashieme commented this morning that he doesn't think I actually plan on running-- rather, he supposes I'll just put on my running clothes, go lie down in the corn field across the street for a few hours, and then pick all the crap off my clothing and return home, acting as if I've just completed an intense workout.

 

Clearly, this is preposterous, as not only do I use an app to track my runs (which no one except fellow runners really care about, so forgive me, non-runner friends, for all the Facebook updates, which were much more frequent during my marathon days, but probably just as annoying now)... but also, I hate bugs way too much to go lie down in a corn field for the sake of pretending to have run.

 



So I'll be actually running.  And thinking about that fortune cookie.

Feel free to share your thoughts with me, too!

Conversations with Kaliah...

So I've been considering going back to school to get my doctorate... a decision that's been weighing heavily on my mind.  Rashieme and I have discussed it extensively, but as nothing's certain yet, there was no real reason to address the subject with Kaliah.

It's not like we've been hiding it from her--there's just really nothing to discuss with her, yet, since we don't know exactly what's going to happen.  Or how it will effect her.  But on Saturday, after I'd spent four plus hours of a beautiful day trudging through the GRE exam, Rashieme and I were once again chatting about the future on the car ride home.  This time, though, Kaliah happened to be paying attention.

"What are you talking about, Mom?" she asked.

"I'm considering going back to college."

"Then who will be my mom?"

Pause.

"I will be your mom, Kaliah."

It took me a moment to understand her concerns, to which I responded that I wasn't going away to college, but rather, that I would be driving back and forth to classes each day, if I even decided to go.

She considered this, then shrugged.

"I would have been happy with Miss WizB," she replied indifferently.

(Miss WizB is Kaliah's godmother.  Apparently, she's a lot cooler than me.  Also, she has a pool).

Just in case I didn't realize how uncool I was, Kaliah reminded me again tonight on the way to her science fair.  I jokingly teased her that she was very lucky to have such cool parents.  To which she responded, "Um, not really.  You're not with it."

"Not with it?" I asked incredulously.

"You're not with it, Mom," she corrected herself.  Apparently, her father is still "with it."

"I'm not with it?" I demanded.

I could start ranting about when "it" changed, and who changed it anyway, but maybe I was never really with it.  After all, I've always preferred reading to movies.  I've seen every single episode of Grey's Anatomy and could get into a heated discussion with anyone who cares about why I'm super excited that Burke is coming back.  I run ridiculous amounts of miles without anything chasing me, for what Rashieme would tell you is for no apparent reason.  There was a small part of me that actually enjoyed taking the GRE--especially the pressure that came with watching the timer in the corner tick down as I faced increasingly difficult reading passages.

I was nerdy before Napoleon Dynamite made it cool.  And the kids in my classroom don't even know who that is anymore, which just goes to further confirm how uncool I've become.

Such is life.  I think I'll keep my uncool mom status and see just how far I can take it while still maintaining some shred of dignity.  There's a part of me that could definitely take the rollers-in-the-hair, bathrobe-around-the-house style to the next level.

And since apparently I'm completely replaceable by the cooler, hipper Miss WizB, what have I got to lose?

 

Kaliah:  "You're so not with it, Mom."

Some Kaliahisms to Get You Over the Hump...

Well, Hump Day is upon us, as are several inches of snow here in Slower Lower Delaware.  Again.

I have no flip or humorous comments to offer concerning the weather.  I have decided, though, that Old Man Winter is much more to blame for this than is Mother Nature.  Men are much more stubborn, and this is The Winter That Never Ends, apparently.

So, what to do when you are snowed in for the four BILLIONTH time with your child or your children?

Treasure them for the joy that they are, of course.

It's either that, or, you know, allow them to slowly but surely drive you insane.

Just kidding.

Mostly.

I am blessed to have an amazing daughter.  Still, sometimes the things that come out of her innocent mouth are quite ridiculous. So on a snowy spring day with not much else to do, I present, for your entertainment:

Kaliahisms.

Actual sayings by our eight-going-on-nine-year-old daughter, Kaliah.

1.  My favorite so far this year:  "It only takes one person to mind the business."  I can't remember the exact context of this quote, but she said it shortly after New Year's and Rashieme and I bring it up frequently.  And true:  if the whole world had Kaliah's attitude, how much more peaceful would planet Earth be?

2.  While cooking breakfast for Rashieme:  "These are going to be the best eggs Dad's ever tasted.  Except for the ones he makes.  They're way better."  Hash tag, Chef Problems.  At least we tried.

3.  After Kaliah finally admitted to forgetting about a cup of apple juice that the cat consequently knocked over:
     Me:  "All you had to do was say, I'm sorry, Mom.  I forgot."
     Rashieme:  "Yeah.  Instead of making a bunch of excuses."  Looks my way. (Guilty as charged, 
     by the way and FYI).  "Wonder who she  gets that from?"
     Kaliah:  "From you, Dad.  You just gave an excuse."
     Rashieme:  "No, I didn't.  Kaliah, do you even know what an excuse is?  Or are you just talking?"
     Me:  "Wonder who she gets that from."

4.  "That dumb cat is so smart!"

5.  Accompanied by the picture below and followed by evil laughter:  "This is the perfect snowball.  It's glorious!"

 

Happy Hump Day, Er'rybody! Don't worry, warmer days are coming!  (Aren't they?  I mean, like, don't they have to be?)

A Somewhat Sappy Thank You

I had a hard time coming up with a topic to blog about this week.

Blogging, for me, is mainly an attempt to grow my fan base while also expressing myself through writing.  The fan base thing is a work in progress--while I still entertain dreams of being a successful, traditionally published author someday, I live in reality.  (Usually).  So I know the chances of that dream coming to fruition are small.

When I do receive encouragement online or in person to continue writing, I jump all over it.  I let it feed me.  I make more consistent efforts to share my writing with the world, because, well, people keep allowing me to continue.  (And by allowing me to continue, I guess I mean that no one is telling me to stop).  Also, sometimes people even praise my writing, insisting that I keep going, that I don't quit.  I'll never forget-- I was at a writing retreat a few years ago, and after having shared a couple pieces at open mics and during workshops, a stranger approached me and complimented me.  I remember blushing and stammering something about how it was the one time I was guaranteed an audience whom I could force to listen to me.  I said it as a joke, sort of, but after hundreds of rejections from literary agents, it was also a rather accurate statement. She seemed shocked that there was anyone out there who would feel differently than she did, and she reassured me that she had truly enjoyed listening to my words.

I don't say all that to fish for affirmation or gain any sympathy.  Just want to acknowledge that as a human... sometimes we need to know that what we're passionate about matters.  That someone else believes in what we do.

But the thing about writing for me, and I've mentioned this before, is that I would do it for an audience of one.  Who it is that's reading--that's rarely defined what it is I'm writing.

With blogging, however, it's different.  I'm aware of who is reading.  With my limited social media and elementary marketing skills, and all but nonexistent ability to make things look pretty... I consider myself fairly lucky that anybody comes by here at all.  :)

So I guess what I'm trying to say, really, is thank you.

Thanks for coming by my standard looking, sometimes random, little-engine-that-could-type blog.  Whether you're visiting once or often--I'm glad you're here.

Because while I would keep writing without you...

I wouldn't keep blogging.  And I know that there's nothing amazing, fancy, or even particularly practical about my little corner of the internet.

But I'm still so glad you took a few minutes to come read.  I happen to believe that someday, probably when we're face to face with Jesus, we're going to find out that those little things weren't just little things.

They were everything.

So thanks for taking a little bit of time and reading the musings of an aspiring author.  If I'm never known for my writing, I'd like to hope that I'll be remembered for my gratitude.  If not by thousands of fans, than by a few dozen supporters.  That is more than enough to fill my heart.  I've never been good at sticking with something that requires constant dedication.  Past attempts at blogging have fizzled and failed after a few months.  But this time, you've all inspire me to keep posting.

And while I couldn't come up with a good topic today, I think that actually turned out to be a good thing.  Because in my opinion, the world would be a way better place if we paused and thanked the people around us a little more often.

I appreciate each and every view I get.  And if you're reading this, I want you to know--I'm praying for you.  I don't believe in accidents.  I stopped believing in coincidences when I really found my faith, when I realized that Jesus wasn't just a guy who died on a cross a long time ago-- I discovered that He is a real, living, loving God who wants a personal relationship with me, and with you.  So wherever you're sitting, whoever you are, and whatever you're doing--I think that even in the small things, God doesn't believe in wasted time or insignificant moments.  I think it all matters, and I think you're reading these words because God put it on your to-do list today.  I know that even when we don't plan on things... God does.  I believe He wants to bless us even beyond the wildest dreams we have for ourselves.  So I thank you for coming here today, because I believe you are a part of the dream God has planted in my heart.  I want to pray that your dreams, whatever they are, are coming true for you.  Because while you've blessed me by stopping by, I pray that the greater blessing is for you.  That maybe you read something you needed to read today--not because I am an awesome writer.  But because I know a truly awesome God.  I pray for your health, and the health of those you love.  I pray for peace and joy in your life, and in your faith.

And a million times over--

I thank you.

I'm Dreaming of a White St. Patrick's Day...

Said no one ever.

And yet, that's exactly what we've got.

Poor Mother Nature.  She's really been getting beat up on Facebook these past couple days.  I've seen posts ranging from "Go Home, Mother Nature, You're Drunk," to "DIE WINTER DIE," to various other comments critiquing the Bi-Polar episodes the weather has been suffering from lately.

And I get it, I do.  They've already added thirty minutes on to every school day (which is sort of hilarious, because on the day of the scheduled implementation of extra time, school was ironically closed due to-- you guessed it-- inclement weather).  At this rate, summer vacation will begin for teachers at about the time we're ready to come back in August.

But, still.  How often, on St. Patrick's Day, do you get a chance to make one of these:

She looks bigger than she actually is.  (My mother decided she was a she.  I didn't really think about it, just assumed it was a guy.  I supposed that's sort of sexist of me, but hey, so is the term "Snowman."  And since she is wearing my hat--with sparkly glitter threads woven throughout, nonetheless-- I guess she is a girl.  Or a snowman who is very comfortable with his sexuality). 

Still, even though she's small, I'm pretty proud of her.  Granted, it has snowed approximately four million times so far this year, so much so that Kaliah asked me today if Delaware looks completely white from outer space.  But none of the previous snowstorms brought the good-for-packing snow.  I was beginning to think the problem was me, that I just wasn't talented enough to make the snow stick together.  I thought maybe I'd reached a new low in life, because, really... how hard should it be to make snow form a few snowballs?

But then this most recent snow arrived, and I could tell the difference as soon as Kaliah and I started rolling it.  It wasn't me, after all.  This snow, this was the sticky kind.  So behold:  The St. Patty's Day Snow Woman.

We'll call her Pat.

Mother Nature does get a bad rep when she goes on these wild mood swings.  (Funny how we assume snowmen are dudes but nature is a lady).  I guess she's entitled, though.  If I were responsible for the whole entire world's weather, it would be even more sporadic and crazy and unpredictable than it's been, even throughout this wacky winter.  And I wouldn't apologize for it, either.

After all, it's a big world out there.  There's a lot to keep up with.

And as for making up her mind and sticking to it?

Who are we to judge?  I can't tell you the number of decisions I'm juggling with right now, but I bet you've got just as many.  From the mundane, like deciding what to fix for dinner or what kind of damage control my hair is in need of, to the life changing--like is my career going where I want it to?

It's a miracle my child and I make it out the door fully clothed each morning, with all the stuff I'm thinking about.

I've been told I wear my heart on my sleeve, that I care too deeply and feel too much.

I know, of course, that this is true.  But my feelings are what make me who I am.  I don't always take criticism or rejection well (fun times on the publishing endeavors, let me tell you!), and I tend to overreact in all kinds of situations--to get too excited or take something too much to heart.  To dwell on something I've done wrong or to overanalyze the tiniest details.  But this same sensitivity makes me a better mother, a better listener, a better friend.  I'd like to hope a better writer.

And my child, my colleagues, and my friends know that the volcanic emotional eruption comes with the territory.  They know when to get out of the way and give me my space, or when I just need a hug.

So give nature a break.  Sure, she can't make up her mind lately.  She's been a bit moody--furious storms, smiling suns, gentle breezes, and God forbid--more snow--she's going through something, maybe, but who among us isn't?

You can't get the rainbows without the rain.

And you CAN make a snow woman on St. Patrick's Day!!

So while I'm not Irish, I do consider myself lucky.  More than lucky, actually--blessed.  I pray that all of you are blessed as well, and that if, much like Mother Nature, you're struggling to make up your mind about something--that you accept each day for what it's worth--another incredible day in your journey.  No matter how far you are from your destination, you are somewhere today.  And that's worth celebrating.

Just ask Pat.  I doubt she thought she'd be here in March, but here she is.

And that, my friends, is something more than even the luck of the Irish.