Laughter

I woke up in a really bad mood today. There was no particular reason, but it didn’t help that I’d slept thru my snooze alarm and was running late. In hindsight chirping birds was probably not a good alarm choice.  Of all the days today was not the one I would have picked to wake up late.  I had a 9:20 appointment in Cedar Park with my endocrinologist which meant I couldn’t do school drop offs in my pj’s. I hurried everyone as best I could while throwing clothes on myself. I barely made it to my appointment. 

While we are waiting for my doctor Laurel and Rhodes start playing their newest twin game. Twin games are games that only Laurel and Rhodes understand and enjoy.  This one is particularly annoying. One of them will randomly say something gross (like “Poop is yummy” for example) and then they dissolve into laughter. When the laughter dies down the other twin takes a turn being disgusting. We’ve tried getting them to stop and explained that it’s rude to no avail. I start to remind them that this game sucks (I’m paraphrasing) when my doctor walks in. They go back to their iPads and my doctor and I begin chatting.  

I’m in the middle of asking a question when Laurel pipes up with “My mommy makes the stinkiest toots!”. The doctor and I go silent. Laurel and Rhodes turn into laughing hyenas. I want to die. I want to crawl into my purse and hide. I don’t know where to look because I cannot make eye contact with the man sitting in front of me. I’m starting to sweat and I hope that I just melt into a puddle of embarrassment. Before I finish my story I need to explain something about my doctor. He is very very smart, but he doesn’t have much of a bed side manner. He isn’t one to ask how the Holidays were or how my weekend was. He provides excellent care but I don’t expect anything warm from him. Ok, back to the awkwardness: After what feels like an hour he clears his throat and says:

“Little girl, did you just say something to me?”

Laurel looks at him with big eyes and offers up a meek “no” 

“I think I heard you say something about your mommy making stinky toots”

Laurel giggles and whispers “yes”

At this point I have my hands over my face and am mentally spending Laurel’s college fund. 

“Little girl, whoever smelt it dealt it”

At that I throw my hands down and the adults break down in hysterical laughter.  I will never look at my endocrinologist the same way and I’m sure visa versa. 

My day continued to be one big mess. After one of our errands Rhodes fell in a parking lot. He skinned his knee and demanded a bandaid. I, of course, didn’t have one. After unsuccessfully trying to talk him out of needing one I made do with what I had.  

Here is R’s giant bandaid:

He was happy and the crying stopped. We moved on with our day and forgot about our makeshift wound cover. 

I’m in HEB looking at my creamer options when I hear “young man, what’s that on your leg?”. Shit. Shit. Shit. Do I turn around or move down a refrigerator case and pretend he’s not mine? I’m not given a choice when the elderly gentleman begins questioning me: 

“Are you his mom? What is that? Is that...”

I interrupt him with “Yes! It IS a giant bandaid! He fell and hurt his knee and needed this to feel better!” 

“Oh, Ooooooh! Yes, I see! Well, that’s a fine looking bandaid. I’m glad to see that you were able to save his leg, Mom.”  

With that he saluted us and we parted ways. I grabbed my creamer and went straight to the check out line. As I’m loading bags into the car I see our new friend from the store walking up. He’s got a small bag in his hand and a big smile on his face. 

“I’m glad I found you! I bought the young man some real bandaids and put a little something in there for you too, Mom.  You’re doing good. Hang in there. Thanks for making me laugh today.” 

After loading the car I peek in the bag to find Star Wars bandaids and a Hershey bar. My eyes fill with tears and my heart with gratitude. I stop and say a prayer of thanks for the sweet man at HEB. 

Both situations could have been very different if it weren’t for the gift of laughter. Embarrassment threatened to take over one moment while judgement could have easily ruled the other.  I’m so thankful that the people I was interacting with had light hearts. They were able to see the humor in both situations and kept me from feeling the weight of my bad mood. Let people lift you up. Feed off of their positivity when you just can’t find yours. Borrow their joy. If you look, you’ll notice there’s plenty to go around. 

Thieves

There have been times in my life where it was absolutely impossible to find joy. There was no light to be seen. The air was heavy and it hurt to move. Just get out of bed. If you see your friends you’ll feel better. A little sunshine does wonders. All hilarious statements. I would have laughed but... 

that takes energy. 

Then there were the times when my worries became bigger than I was. My thoughts would race. My heart would race. My breathing would race. All this racing but nobody’s sure who won. The best times were when my worries were about nothing. So. Much. Energy. spent on if I’d really mailed the check to the plumber.  IdreallyliketogocheckthemailboxbutthatwouldbesillyofcourseIputitintherebutwhatifIdroppeditanditsflutteringaroundinthegrassIshouldjustgocheckbutthatwouldbesilly. 

Then one day you have had enough of the darkness.  Or your family has had enough of watching you spin in circles. Or the choice isn’t yours anymore because you have little people watching you and needing you. Whatever the reason you take a step toward change. And it’s scary. And hard. And nauseating. But you know you have to keep stepping. One foot then the other. Steady. Plodding. Stepping. 

You begin to realize that it doesn’t matter whether your steps are pills or conversations or stays or books or meetings or Jesus. What matters is that you make them. What matters is that you stay honest about needing them. What matters is that you talk about taking them. 

There is no shame in this walk. 

Today is World Mental Health Awareness Day. Depression and Anxiety have stolen the joy from my life numerous times. I am not uncomfortable admitting this, but many 

people are. The stigma associated with mental illness can delay treatment and prolong suffering unnecessarily. Please speak up if you see a loved one struggling. Offer them a kind word, a sympathetic ear, a cup of coffee whatever it takes for them to know that your opinion of them hasn’t changed. Taking the first step toward treatment is hard. Help your friend or family member be brave. Help them start their walk back into the joy. 

Through the eyes of a child

My perfectionist self is in a tizzy that I skipped two posts this weekend. I remembered that I was supposed to write and I chose not to. The first night I was enjoying the company of my sweet husband who is in town and couldn’t tear myself away. Evening number two was full of laughing and IMovie bloopers while G and I tried our best to learn how to edit and set his video to music. The part of me having a fit is screeching “look what you did!!!! It’s ruined! It’s write31 not write29! Might as well just stop.”  I’m not going to let myself do that. After some thinking I’ve decided that I’m going to really work on showing myself some grace. I don’t want this challenge to turn into one more thing I make an exercise in perfection and guilt. This for me is just as much about recognizing the joy among the harshness as it is stretching as a writer. Missing a day here and there does not make this endeavor a failure. Grace, grace, grace...

My kids know I’m writing about finding joy. It’s led to some interesting conversations about what exactly joy is and how important it is to make sure you look for the joy in your life.  I was curious what they had been taking away from these talks so I asked them to take a picture of something that brought them joy. My only stipulation was that it couldn’t be a video game. 

Here’s what brings W joy: 

His Bass

Here’s what brings G joy:

His guitar

Here’s what brings O joy:

When I saw this I laughed and asked “dead bugs?”. He sighed and said “No, mom! Beautiful things in nature!”.  I was properly put in my place. 

Here’s what brings L joy:

Getting the eggs with Rhodes

Here’s what brings R joy:

Ummmm... ok... well, that little face certainly brings me joy. ❤️

I have to admit I was a little nervous turning them loose with this task. Would I get back 5 pictures of items that made them happy? I was really pleased to find they had each chosen an activity they loved. Although I guess I’ll have to start addressing Rhodes’ preoccupation with himself... or teach him how to flip the camera around. 😉 

self love

Dear Elizabeth,

The words over sensitive, cry baby, touchy, dramatic, and thin skinned are all words you're familiar with.  You've been called them you're entire life.  You know the humiliation of crying for every emotion: angry, happy, sad, excited and hate how it makes you appear weak. You've tried every trick from pinching yourself to looking up at the ceiling to try to ward off the tears, but nothing works. You've cried in professional settings when it was wildly inappropriate.  You've had a superior, who you admire, roll their eyes at you and ask "WHAT, Elizabeth?" when tears of frustration rolled down your cheeks.  You vividly recall the conversation was about a student who was having a major mental health crisis. The tears were because there was absolutely no help available to them. Your 20 something self just couldn't understand how this could be true.  Your 40 something self still doesn't understand it.  

Your heart is easily broken.  You've had a hard time lately because of this.  The hurting and loss in our world just feel too big and it's all just too much.  There's too much violence, and too much sadness, and too much taking.  Sometimes you feel like you can feel the darkness looming and you're afraid it's going to swallow you whole.  That's when you have to shut out the outside world and circle the wagons.  You call on your tribe and hug your babies.  You clench your fists and shut your eyes and pray with all your might that the cracks in your heart will heal.

You love fiercely.  Loving this way brings blessings and risks. You know the joy of true intimate friendship- sisterhood of the heart.  The kind of friendship that makes mothering and marriage doable.  When you love this way your hearts entwine and their hurts become yours.  Their fall is your fall.  There is no way around it- you can't separate the joy from the hurt.  

Elizabeth, You have wished your sensitive heart away many times. At times the hurt and embarrassment it brings just doesn't seem worth it.  The older you get though, the more you realize the blessing you have been gifted. There is a strength in your sensitivity and you are learning to embrace it and be proud of it.  So much of who you are is wrapped up in nurturing.  You love being a mother, caring for your foster kitties, and hope to someday do something with  children again. Your sensitivity helps you do all of those things. 

This world won't change without sensitivity and hope.  That threatening darkness that you sometimes feel creeping in won't be fought back if you hide. You're going to have to love fiercely, have your heart broken, cry at times, and do it all over again.  That's the only way.  You're going to have to use your gift.

Love, 

Elizabeth

Effort

We got to the shelter to find it swarming with people. Cats were hopping under the counter to hide from the chaos. Phones were ringing, and we could hear the dogs barking wildly from the runs behind the building. “Should we come back later, Mom?” asked G. We were there to interview the shelter’s foster coordinator for a project that G was doing for school.  Before I could answer him my sweet friend swept into the room, held up one finger to us, and started expertly organizing the craziness. Within minutes she had 2 new intakes settled and us comfortable in a quiet out of the way space. Toni spent close to 40 minutes with G. She brought him handouts and told him that he was her youngest foster parent. She offered to set up a meeting with the shelter’s vet for him and gave him ideas for his next project. She treated him like a peer. I watched him visibly sit taller in his chair as the interview went on. G left with a huge smile on his face and hasn’t quit talking about his time with Mrs. Toni. 

I was in the  teacher’s lounge sorting papers into take home folders when I overhear a Mom ask if there was a trick to using the die cut machine. “Not the letter E again?!?” another mom chimes in. We all laugh and explain that some of the letters need to be sharpened. When it quiets down and the room clears I ask her what she’s working on. She tells me that she’s making Mrs. F. a display for open house that night. 

“But your little girl isn’t in her class!”

“I know, but when she found out that everyone else had one I could tell she felt left out. I didn’t want that so I decided to make her one.” 

Both of these women touched my heart today. They took the time to help someone else with absolutely no self interest. Toni did not have time to meet with G. She did it because she knew it mattered to a child. The mom in the workroom wanted to make a hardworking teacher feel appreciated. A teacher neither of her children have. I’m going  to challenge my children (and myself) tomorrow to look for a way they can selflessly help someone. I’m excited to hear about their experiences. Maybe this will be our new Friday tradition? 

Time

I reach under the blanket to tickle my boy's toes. I whisper that it's time to get up for school and pray that this morning finds my sweet O in an agreeable mood. 

"No! I'm not going!"
"Sweet boy, I know you don't want to, but it's not a choice. We have to go."
"It IS a choice.  I'm not going!"
"I'm going to go wake up your brothers I'll be back to check on you."
He begins screaming as I walk away.

My eyes fill with tears as I move on to my other children.  I hate that they wake up every morning listening to their brother scream. I hate that I don't get to send them off with any "good luck on your test!" or "I know you'll do great on your speech" pep talks. At this point I'd settle for "Don't forget your backpacks".  Every single moment of our morning is spent cajoling Oliver to get dressed, eat, get in the car, and then get in the building.  I never for one moment take for granted that I have such flexible grace filled older children.  They never complain and often offer help.  

"How's it going, O? You need any help with your shoes?"
"I'm not wearing shoes because I'm NOT GOING TO SCHOOL"

Both shoes are tossed in my direction.  I sigh, pick them up, and put them by his backpack.  I'll deal with them later.  If he gets to school barefooted at least he'll be at school.  I check to make sure the babies are still eating and that W and G are close to being ready. They are all in good shape so I move back to Oli.

"Hi, Sweetie! I'm so proud you got dressed.  What do you feel like eating today?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Ok. Can you force something down? I hate sending you without something in your tummy."

As soon as I've said the words I know I've messed up.  The only way to keep the peace in the mornings is to keep up the illusion that O is not going to school. He insists he isn't and I don't argue.  If I make any comment that he interprets as an invitation to fight then he gleefully brings out the crazy.  I close my eyes and begin deep breathing.

"I TOLD YOU I"M NOT GOING!!!!!!" 

Oliver starts kicking the wall repeatedly and I know that we have just earned our 900th tardy of the year.  


I reach under the blanket to tickle my boy's toes.  I whisper that it's time to get up for school and pray that this morning finds my sweet O as happy as he usually is. 

"You need to hurry or I'm to not just going to tickle your toes but also your nose!"

I watch the impish grin I adore spread across his face as he whispers back:

"Not my nose and toes! Wait until I GROW!"

We both explode into laughter and he jumps out of bed.  That he happily gets out of bed and he can rhyme is not lost on me.  It doesn't take a Lens of Joy to be filled with happiness about the changes Oliver has made.  A diagnosis of dyslexia, intensive intervention with a gifted teacher, and lots and lots of positive reinforcement from the adults in his life have softened Oliver's heart and helped him make huge progress academically.  My silly O is back! 

There are times though when I wonder about the future and where O is headed.  What is college going to look like? What kind of job will he get? Is he going to sleep in his bunk bed forever? That's when I have to stop and make myself think back to all Oliver and I have been through. My Lens of Joy helps give me perspective.  He's Oliver! He's tough and persistent and brilliant.  He is amazing.  He's my hope.  

Trust

If you know me at all you know that I am a planner at heart.  I have had a long running love affair with my calendars (yes plural) and my comfort zone is knowing who, what, when, and where at all times.  So far, this challenge has been one big giant Nope on planning ahead.  I mentioned in my last post that I was going to do something different and not prewrite. I was just going to trust that my post for the day would find me. Y'all, that's HARD. I am a writer through and through. I write in my head all day long.  I am constantly grabbing a pen to jot down random sentences for posts that may or may not actually be published. By noon I'd "written" at least 3 posts that I could have made physical this afternoon. In yoga this is called monkey mind... you're supposed to be meditating and have an empty clear mind, but your brain is jumping around on it's own trampoline.  I finally decided to read to the twins in an attempt to quiet the jumping monkeys in my brain. 

At 2:30 I hear my text chime go off with G's teacher's alert.  I jump up to find this from her:

I immediately start to cry.  Both from the beauty and hope in my sweet G's words, but also because I can already see that having faith isn't meaningless.  It's work and scary and so so so much easier to fall back into old patterns, but look what the payoff is just today!

Reading G's truism brought me such peace.  He loves with a heart so genuine  and pure.  He has been hurt and confused by adults and friends at times but he chooses to keep loving the same way.  If he can make that choice so can I.  Living life with our joy lenses on.