Exasperation

It is only my children who know how to push my buttons to the point of exasperation. They completely bewilder me at moments. I am amazed by their sheer gall and boldness. If I could somehow harness this fierce energy I would be a force to be reckoned with. No one would dare cross my path on a bad day. I would not filter what I say. I would not take care to not offend. I would say what I feel, when I feel it, whether it suits anyone or not.

My children don't have filters. They stand bold behind their beliefs whether that belief is that bedtime has arrived too early or that dinner is some form of poison in disguise. They will put their hands on their hips and argue their point until I am bedraggled by the mere conversation. They can talk sideways, backwards, up, and down. And, before I know it I have been talked into a corner confused at how I got there.

I am extremely thankful that these vexations are not the norm. However, having just experienced one, I am certain I will still be recovering by the time we have the next occurrence. I am not quite to the point of writhing in a corner, but I will admit that hiding under the covers sounds very appealing at the moment. And chocolate. Chocolate sounds delightful. And, a massage. A massage to ease my tension. But, instead, I will peek in on my sleeping children before I go to bed and I will see their peaceful faces and know that every exasperating moment is merely a pebble on the road of life.

Mitchell is sitting in my lap...

Let's see if I can get him to answer some questions.

1. What is Mommy's favorite color?

Pink

2. What is Mommy's favorite food?

Broccoli

3. What is Mommy's work?

Computer

4. What is Daddy's work?

The shop...where he does jobs

5. What is Mommy's favorite drink?

Water

6. What is Daddy's favorite drink?

Crystal Light

7. What is Mommy's favorite thing to do?

Rest

8. What is Daddy's favorite thing to do?

Pet the doggies

9. What is Daddy's favorite food?

Tacos

10. What's Daddy's favorite color?

Red

11. What is Daddy's favorite resturaunt?

Taco Bell

12. What is Mommy's favorite TV show?

Lost

13. What is Daddy's favorite TV show?

Lost

14. Who does Mommy love?

ME! (That is what Mitchell answered! Smart boy!)

A Poem by Mitchell

I am a boy
I hear a Rhinoceros
I see a little squirrel
I want a real bear

I am a bear
I pretend to be a zebra
I feel my heart
I touch my head
I cry when I am hurt
I am good at playing

I understand being patient

I say I'll be good
I dream I touch a squirrel
I try to be good
I hope to be a Paleontologist when I grow up
I care about giving my sister kisses every night

I am Mitchell

The TV

The kidlets were playing in their toy kitchen. They decided they would clean their toy kitchen. They then decided they should clean the house. They started with the TV. They applied lots of water to the TV to clean it, because, to clean anything you have to use water. And, it stands to reason that the more water ones uses the cleaner something becomes.

The good news is that the kidlets won the battle in the war of water verses electronics. They did not electrocute themselves. The bad news is that the TV met an untimely demise. But, really, I would rather have my kids unscathed than a TV that works. And, it was an ugly, obnoxious TV anyway. You don't realize what you don't need until you raise children in your home. Like a full set of dishes or chairs withouts stains. Really, what fun is that?

Stand Up and Fight!

I have many fears. I have big, overpowering fears about losing my children or my husband. I have everyday fears that are more like concerns. Concern about our finances; concern about making healthy meal choices for the kids; concern for our general health. And, I have silly fears. Worry that if I chose to wear my boots with my slacks, will I fall yet again at work. Worry that my child will pop the balloon they receive at a restaurant (yes, I fear balloons...laugh if you must. I am not afraid to jump out of a plane though. Silly, I know).

Through all my fears, one is consistently in the forefront of my mind. I am terrified of being attacked from behind. I have no reason to have this fear. I have never been attacked from any direction. I have never even being in a physical fight. But, this fear sticks with me. I even implored my husband when we were dating to never sneak up behind me. He has never intentionally done so but he has caught me off-guard a number of times. My response is to jump and shriek and then laugh nervously while my blood pressure returns to normal.

My fear of being attacked has served me well. I look people directly in the eyes if I pass someone while on a run or walking up to the ATM. I walk with my head up and soak in details around me. I try in earnest not to put myself in foolish situations. I am cautious but unprepared for what might happen should a predator ignore my show of confidence and attack. Actually, I was unprepared until last week. I was attacked. Thankfully, it was by a man in a padded suit in a self-defense seminar but the feelings I felt when his arms grabbed me couldn't have been more real.

My son's karate instructor, Master Dave Johnson, hosted a day-long self-defense course this past weekend. I attended because of this being attacked fear I haul around with me everywhere I go. I was thinking it would be a lot of, "if this happens...do this." I was completely wrong. We learned that there is no standard way to defend yourself based on the situation. Every situation is unique. Every situation has its own variables. You have to be able to draw on your knowledge and chose in an instant the skills that will serve you best in your given predicament.

As we went through the punches, and kicks, and jabs we began to see how combinations of moves could help defend us from an attacker even if it is just enough to get away and run. It was not textbook self-defense. It was real life self-defense.

At the end of the day, every student was "attacked" five times. Even though it was expected, the adrenaline was real. Before my first attack, I was shaking. It is like waiting for a very important test score. Like waiting for some impending evil to happen. I was going to see if I could apply what I learned in a three to five second attack. My first attack involved a lot of slapping and struggling on my part. By my fourth attack, I had my screaming in and was liberally issuing heel palm punches and thrust kicks. By my fifth attack, I had the guy over my shoulder and on the floor in front of me. I felt utter shock at the sight of him at my feet. And, I felt empowered.

I hope that I never have to use my newly found skills. I also know that I need to continue polishing them and refining them so that I will be able to call upon them in a moments notice. I am going to take Master Johnson's class again without hesitation. I encourage all my friends to take his class or a similar one. There is no price-tag to steep for your life. I would pay all that I had to keep my friends and family safe. We live in such an uncertain world I figure a few basic self-defense skills will help keep me safe, or at least give me a better chance of escaping an unpleasant situation.

Remember, don't sneak up behind me. It really freaks me out. And, now, you might just end up on the ground in front of me!

Fun House Mirror

It began about a month ago. Every morning, after I am dressed for work, I do a once over glance at my attire using the full-length mirror hanging inside our closet door. It is just a spot check really. Making sure my buttons are in the proper button-holes; my shoes match my outfit and each other; no stray globs of toothpaste are attached to me.

It was completely horrifying to me to look in this mirror one morning only to see a short, squat, pot-bellied toad looking back at me. I couldn't fathom how this transition could have taken place without my seeing signs of it. Granted, I am not a skinny twig, but rather I would describe my build as athletic. The figure facing me in the mirror was the opposite of athletic. I mourned the image. I recalled how my son had patted my belly the night before asking, "When did you get so fat, Mommy?" I was stupefied. I had let myself go. My love of food outweighed my morning runs. I felt deflated...in a completely fat way.

Morning after morning my psyche took hits from the image in the mirror. I tried to embrace the belly, the boobs, the thick thighs. I tried to find outfits that would disguise my unpleasant metamorphosis. Nothing seemed to work. There wasn't a single pair of slacks, jeans, or capri's that could flatter my new figure. Every top seemed tight and every blouse seemed inflated by my expansive, barrel-shaped torso.

I took action. I upped my runs. I ordered a Pilate's DVD. I ate more reasonable servings. I bought pre-measured, single serving ice creams containers (really, why give up ice cream completely?). I replaced my Dr. Pepper with Crystal Light. Yet, my efforts were wasted. Every morning I was greeted by the toad. I was infuriated and dejected at the same time. My husband's assurances that he had no idea what I was talking about upset me. I knew he was being nice. Probably fearful I would sit on him and squash him in his sleep.

Finally, I reached my breaking point. I dressed with care for somber, family event one evening. When I opened the closet door for my once over the toad looked back at me. In an instant, I reached up and pushed the toad back with all my might. The door the mirror resides on, slammed into the wall. Take that you toad!

Then it clicked. I had noticed something when I pushed the mirror. It straightened. I looked more closely. I pushed the mirror gently with my finger. It straightened again. I watched my reflection as I straightened and released pressure on the mirror. Me, toad, me, toad, me, toad... I felt tears brimming in my eyes. Tears of sheer relief. I realized the mirror was warped. Warped from the hands of children shoving behind it to see if the world of the mirror was real. I literally jumped with glee. I raced to the kitchen junk draw for my 3M double-sided sticky strips. I stuck two behind the center of the mirror and pressed it firmly against the closet door. The mirror stuck; straightened. The fun house image was gone. The old me stood in its place.

I gained a new perspective from my many weeks with my warped mirror. I realized that I am far to hard on myself. I realized that I should continue my runs (and my new found love of Pilate's) for the joy I experience and not for a feeling of obligation to simply lose weight. I didn't like the me that obsessed about weight and food. I like the me that eats with gusto and delights in second helpings. I acknowledge that I want to have a healthy lifestyle for my benefit and to set a positive example for my children. But, I acknowledge that as I age, I will change. Some changes will be easy and some will be utterly mortifying. I will continue to apply my potions creams daily to combat or slow-down as much of the aging process as possible, but I won't deny that I will age regardless of my efforts. I will defend myself as much as I can without becoming compulsive. I believe as long as I can keep the toad at bay, I will be just fine.

Little Boys and Farts

Little boys are into farts. Heck, big boys are into farts. My nephew is no exception. He spent the night with us and as we were driving out to our home he was telling me all about his imaginary friend, Fire Fartman. Really sounds like a dashing fellow if one can get past the odor of his many talents with farts.

Later that evening, all three kids were playing out in the back. They were running every which way and playing in that totally absorbed way that kids do. When the world fades away and only the play at hand exists. As I watched them, my nephew suddenly broke away from the group and came running toward me in a mad dash.

"Hey, hey! Auntie, you know what?"

I couldn't possibly so I replied, "No. What?"

"You know sometimes when you fart? Like when you fart, sometimes poop comes out of your butt?"
Oh no, no, no.

He continued, "Well, I was just out there playing and I farted and some poop came out of my butt."

I hung my head, closed my eyes, and sighed. Welcome to my world.

Then I looked at him and said, "I will go get the Shout."