Gone to live with the bears

Sarah's post about having special time one-on-one with her kids this summer came to my mind today because, over the next couple of days, I am having a special kind of special time. The solo kind. I'm writing this from an empty house, just me. It's winter break here and Maddy is away at Model UN Nationals this week and the boys have taken themselves on a backpacking adventure for a few days.

And they're off...

I'm kind of a walking contradiction about it. I miss them. And I love it. 

As much as I love time with my family crew, I completely believe in the restorative power of a good solo retreat. I think it's in my genes. My great grandmother raised nine daughters over several decades in the 1920-50s and, as you can imagine, her life was full of laughter and noise and laundry and teaching. Every once in a while (about yearly, I think) she would declare "I'm going to live with the bears!" and she would pack up and leave her daughters in good care with a relative (or with each other as they grew older) and check in at the swanky Hotel Utah in Salt Lake City for a week. 

She took a whole suitcase full of magazines with her (yes, I really am her great granddaughter in so many ways). From her journal: it was "my therapy. I could get a room for five dollars, and I read and slept and shopped and renewed myself for the next year...I'd sleep late, then out for a hearty breakfast, then didn't need to eat until dinner." Only a few select friends were invited to visit or lunch or shop with her and no one else was allowed to contact her. At the end of her stay, she would return to the house, rejuvenated and restored and ready to go on mothering. She sent the message, loud enough so I still hear it a couple of generations later, that it's okay to take care of yourself, no matter who you are or what you do.

I know this about myself: I need to go live with the bears now and then. (I know it's time when I start envying prisoners in solitary confinement for their "away time.") This new iteration is even better: everyone else goes and lives with the bears and I get to stay in my own bed, amidst my own bookshelves. There may be a movie or two, long soaks in the tub, and some good stretches of writing time in my future. Thank you, Grandma B. I get it.

Have you ever taken a solo retreat? What would you do with a few days all to yourself? Does it feel too indulgent and guilt inducing? (If so, I'll happily write you a permission note!)

24

BYU 1992. After two years of  marriage, we both graduated college.

Monday marked my 24th wedding anniversary. I know it's cliche, but I don't feel old enough to have been married for 24 years. Sometimes I have to remind myself that my oldest child is 20. Time is a wondrous, amorphous thing. It stretches and expands and condenses with such complexity that at times I find myself unsure of what end is up. Also, I'm notoriously bad at calendaring.

I don't want to paint some weirdo picture that our marriage is perfect, because it's not. The times I get the maddest are when I feel like he is trying to be the boss of me. Then . . . watch out. And sometimes he becomes so consumed with work that he kinda sorta forgets about me for a while, and then I have to jump around waving my arms wildly screaming, "I'm here. It's me! Your wife! Remember?" He stands there looking stunned.

However, by and large, my marriage is one of my greatest sources of strength. The really cool part about being married for 24 years is the incredible amount of history that we share. It's been me and him, for 24 years. Woven throughout those years of shared meals and worries and laughter and sorrow, I've learned some incredible lessons about relationships and, surprisingly, about being my own person. Here's my top 5 marriage lessons from the trenches:

1. Focus on the good. In the first years of our marriage I often thought I needed to correct habits or practices that I didn't like. I had the I-certainly-can't-live-with-this-for-10-years mentality. So, if I thought I couldn't live with it -- I tried to change it. Essentially I think I wanted him to fit some crazy, made-up mold in my head labeled 'husband.' Now, after more than 20 years, I KNOW that I can live with all of his stuff, so I'm free to sit back and just enjoy and love him. My advice? Focus on all of the good things about your spouse and gloss over petty annoyances. Who has time to be petty when there is so much good Netflix to enjoy?

2. Talk nice. Words are powerful little missiles, so choose yours wisely. Even when we argue we keep our language civil and avoid name-calling or issuing threats. I can honestly say I see this practice as a cornerstone of our happy marriage -- we always try to show respect regardless of how we are feeling in the moment. Take a moment to cool down if you need it. If you do this, you will eliminate SO MANY hurt feelings.

3. Don't play games. This nugget is a hard-earned piece of wisdom. Sterling is NOT a game player, but I had this tendency to avoid talking to him when I was mad. If I was angry or upset, I wanted to punish him AND get his attention (it's called a two-fer), so I'd pout or play the drama queen (stomping off to my room just before we sat down to dinner). I know. It's silly. Finally, after we'd been married about 18 years we had a great conversation where we talked about game playing. Sterling told me he hated the games, and I told him I often felt the game-playing was the only way to get his attention. We made a conscious decision at that point to come together on the issue. I stopped the games, and he became more willing to face any disagreements head on. And it worked! At first I found myself saying, "Hey! I'm not playing games, so I need you to discuss this." And then he would. And yes, I'm in my 40s. I'm a slow learner.

4. Be thoughtful. EVERYDAY. It feels great to be acknowledged and remembered. When Sterling jumps up to do the dishes after I've prepared a meal, I get a warm, fuzzy feeling that starts in my toes and shoots out of my head! When I'm at the grocery store, I'll pick up his favorite ice cream and hide it in the freezer for when he's had a rough day at work. We try to do something nice for each other every day, even if it's just a foot rub while we watch tv. Be mindful about this -- include it in your daily to-do list -- one nice, unexpected favor each day generates a ton of goodwill.

5. Find happiness in yourself. Probably the biggest lesson I've learned in being married (since I was a wee babe of 19) is that I'm responsible for myself and my own happiness -- not Sterling. Having a fun date night, or long, lingering conversations, or family outings with the kids can add to my feelings of happiness and well-being, but ultimately it's up to me to be a content, fulfilled person. Our relationship flourishes when we bring our strengths together rather than expecting the other to "fill us up." Because the "filling up" or "completing" can't really happen -- not in the long term anyway. A Blog About Love does a great job teaching about working on ourselves so we can be better spouses. 

Alright folks. That's the best of my happy marriage arsenal. Go forth and build happy marriages. Also? Include carbs. Carbs enhance everything.

What would you say?

If you have been hanging around here for any length of time, then you know that Annie and I both have daughters serving missions for our church. The mission itself requires hard work, perseverance, and a good deal of moxie -- since a missionary's main occupation involves approaching complete strangers to talk to them about their religious beliefs. In Jordan's case, she has to do this in French. When I think about her chatting up random French people about such personal topics, I can't help but chuckle since prior to her mission Jordan was reticent to tell a fast food employee she'd been given the wrong order. "Can't you just do it Mom?" Those words still ring in my head.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a helicopter parent, but I'm definitely hands on and Jordan thoroughly enjoyed me navigating the red tape of her life. Often, I encouraged her to work out her own issues -- like selecting classes, or fixing personal misunderstandings, or negotiating work schedules -- but I was always available for lengthy consults and planning sessions. If she was sick? Shoot, her freshman year in college I flew all the way to Utah to take her to the dermatologist (although, in my defense, her hair was falling out). The weeks before she left for her mission I laid awake at night trying to plan for every last contingency -- umbrella, boots, over-the-counter medications, lotions, prescriptions, bandages. Maybe she'd need antibiotic ointment and bandages! You just never knew.

And then she was gone. LDS missionaries can write letters home, and they have 1.5 hours of computer time per week to send e-mails. Oh, and they can call home for one hour on Christmas and Mother's Day. Jordan left home in the beginning of June 2013. We talked to her for an hour on Christmas day. Also, we knew this Mother's Day call would be our last before she returns home in November. So, last Sunday, at 12 pm central time, my little family huddled around the computer, waiting anxiously for Skype to ring. 

If you could only speak with your child one hour every six months, what exactly would you say?

On one hand the sheer rarity of the situation seemed practically overwhelming. I mean, with only an hour I didn't want to talk about what's for dinner. But at the same time, it's not the moment for big decisions or deep, revealing conversations. My sister jokingly called it a 'proof of life' call -- we could see Jordan was happy and thriving and, at the same time, reassure her that home and hearth were patiently awaiting her return.

In the end she told us about the people she is teaching and what it is like to live in Bordeaux -- the food, the culture, and something about dropping a large, glass container of yogurt while getting on a city bus. Her brother and sisters told her what was going on in their lives here at home. We talked a little about signing her up for classes and where she would live when she returned to college. But mostly, I just sat back and marveled at the can-do woman she has become. She can cook. She can move herself all over the south of France. She is getting ready to renew all of the paperwork for her visa. I realized (shockingly) that she could even procure bandages should the occasion arise. Most importantly, she is happy, which means she knows how to find joy in life -- even without her momma. And while this thought gives me a sharp pain right behind my watery eyes, I'm proud of her. So, so proud.

Now. If I can just make it till November.

Three things

via ReinSign

I don't know about you guys, but towards the end of the school year I start to fall apart. Getting up at 5 AM becomes a real drag (because it's super fun at the beginning of the year). The after school routine is more tiresome. And on top of a general sense of fatigue -- activities and performances and end-of-year STUFF launch the calendar into warp speed. Somebody hold me.

Needless to say, I often find myself dragging, procrastinating, you know . . . just biding my time until summer. Sure, I know all of the tried and true solutions for better time management. Like, for instance, watching Law & Order in the middle of the day doesn't make for extreme productivity. Also, lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling isn't working well for me either. The other day someone (I can't find the original link) suggested THESE ten steps for making better use of one's time. All great suggestions -- except I'm too tired. Ten steps are too many for me at the moment.

I've pretty much whittled my daily existence down to three big things, and surprisingly, concentrating on the same three things everyday is really helpful. It gives me some focus! Who knew? Now, let's be clear, I'm not JUST doing these three things -- but I concentrate on making something substantial happen in these three areas. Everything else is just a bonus.

1. Crossfit (or some form of exercise): Sterling and I have been Crossfit-ing for five months now. It's been painful and hard and really, really painful. But it's getting better and is becoming an integral part of my day. Mostly, I'm just prioritizing exercise. In the morning, I Crossfit.

2. Read / Write: While the kids are at school I'm reading and writing on my dissertation chapter. I'm not crafting, or socializing (okay, the occasional lunch out), or reading for fun, or browsing Target. Just reading and writing.

3. Make dinner: Partly because of the Crossfit, but mostly because my family really loves a good, hot dinner, I cook just about every night. It takes up a decent block of time, but it's keeping us healthy, giving me time with the kids, and ends the day on a peaceful note.

Then it's just rinse and repeat. Every day. Crossfit. Read. Dinner.

Crossfit. Read. Dinner.

Crossfit. Read. Dinner.

Are you getting the idea? Of course, when I come back from exercising, I'll throw a load in the washer. After the kids get home from school, I'll put down my reading and take Parker to the orthodontist. Once the kids are in bed, I'll write a few blog posts for the upcoming week. I'm just sprinkling in the necessities, and cutting down on much of the extraneous activities that can take over my life.

I like it. I really like it. I'm finding that I can manage three things pretty darn well. What about you? If you had to pick three big things to work on everyday, what would they be?

A few good gems

Happy Friday! I'm definitely getting to that point in the school year where I'm just hobbling from weekend to weekend. It's enough already with the early mornings and packed lunches and school projects. Momma needs a good long rest. And . . . my college girl comes home in just two weeks! There are lots of good things to look forward to, and in the spirit of that goodness, here are a few good gems to get your weekend inspiration humming.

via MarthaStewart.com

We usually have eggs benedict on Easter morning, but I have to say I'm rather intrigued by this Martha Stewart recipe of Sesame Toast with Poached Eggs and Avocado. 

I originally came upon this article courtesy of Cup of Jo, and while I don't like to recycle links -- this article bears repeating. Published as an opinion essay in The New York Times, the author, Akhil Sharma, writes about his own fruitful experiences with looking outside of himself. This is a must read.

How to make a bow. I had a clearanced wreath from Target and a front door in dire need of some Springifying. In the past I've always had my mother or one of my talented friends make bows for me. But those folks weren't around, so I turned to my BFF the Internet. Girlfriend always delivers.

Also on the DIY front, I experimented with removing oil stains from t-shirts. Indeed, it has been an exciting week. You know those mysterious oil stains that show up on the cool t-shirt you JUST bought on your ski trip and only wore ONE time? Yeah, I'm doing something about those. I tried this tutorial. I had three dime-size oil spots on the bottom of the shirt. I did the WD-40, the baking soda (twice), and the Dawn. Then I washed. Afterwards, the dime-size oil spots were gone, BUT the area around them was stained. I think I made a mistake by only scrubbing the Dawn into the stains themselves. So, I did the whole thing again, brushed the Dawn thoroughly over the entire area, and VOILA! Oil stains no more. I'm serious. This may have changed my life.

I made Fried Quinoa with Spicy Honey Chicken for dinner this week. This recipe is a keeper.

Have you seen this video about the waitress who gets three life-changing "tips"? What if it was your job to go around and make people's dreams come true? I wonder if you'd have to write a dissertation to qualify for that. 

Root Beer Float Cookies? I'm in.

I'm going to try these smoothies next week for an after-workout treat. (But let's be real -- you should really get chocolate or an entire loaf of bread as a reward for working out.)

There's a compelling article in The Atlantic about a playground designed to get around overprotective, middle-class, suburban parenting. And it may or may not involved fires. Interesting read.

And that's it folks! We posted every day this week . . . so can we have the chocolate and bread NOW????

Playing big and taking up room

Maddy and Cate, 2008

I've learned a lot over the years, listening in on Maddy's violin lessons. It turns out that there are a lot of life lessons that can be extrapolated from learning an instrument from a patient, wise teacher--even vicariously, while sitting observing from an old scratchy sofa. I could go on and on about all the little epiphanies I had sitting there in Cate's studio: about focusing on just one thing to improve at a time, about relaxing and sinking in, about slowing down, about patience with the process, about form and function. Cate was pretty much my Mr. Miyagi.

One day as I was watching, Cate asked, "Maddy, do you consider yourself to be someone who holds pieces of herself back & tries to take up less room? Or do you think of yourself as someone who opens up and shares and isn't afraid to take up space?"

"Well...both, I guess." (Which is true...she does both. Maybe we all do.)

"Hmm. Right now your violin is asking you to open up more.  To be bigger.  To take up space. To share more of what you're feeling through your music.  It's a great invitation!  Can you do it?"

Meanwhile, I'm over on the scratchy sofa, inspired and inwardly nodding my head and saying "Yes, I can, Cate. I will play bigger.  I will share. I will take up space."  

My life asks that of me, too, and it's scary.  I'll admit it, I'm a walking contradiction.  I want to rise to the challenge that opportunities bring.  But I also crave staying well within my comfort zone. Preferably with pajamas on. It's easy to play small, stay quiet, let someone else step up to do what needs to be done. Pieces of this Marianne Williamson quote have been rattling around my brain so I had to go look it up again. I'll bet you know the one:

"Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

I do not have this down at all. One of my new year's resolutions this year was to stop for a moment when I had a "somebody really should" thought (you know the kind? "Somebody really should __________ (pick up that litter; host a neighborhood block party; start a family newsletter; get a thank you gift for that teacher, etc.) and be the somebody who does it. I've pretty much failed that one so far!  But. I really do believe that playing big(ger), showing up, shining out, and really occupying our space is a gift to our kids as well as ourselves. It's the permission slip for our kids to do the same in their lives.

Thanks, Cate. Six years later and I'm still practicing.

p.s. Last year this clip from a poetry slam competition was going around. Did you see it? Lily speaks powerfully of observing her family tendency toward shrinking women: “She wanes while my father waxes. I wonder if my lineage is one of women shrinking... I have been taught accommodation...[My brother has] been taught to grow out, I have been taught to grow in.”

Time to make the doughnuts

I try to keep an ongoing list of potential blog posts. I have an experience, or learn something, or see something interesting, and I jot down a few words to remind myself later. Here's my current list:

1. Nothing. Because my life is boring, and I have no personal insight.

So . . . that makes blog writing a bit tough.

But I'm a never-say-die gal, so I tried digging a little deeper -- really thinking about what's going on in my life now (and in the life of my teens). And I can say, definitively, that with Becca (who is 16) we are working on making doughnuts. And, unfortunately, those doughnuts are figurative. Sorry, no recipe folks. But let me be clear -- I am PASSIONATE about real-life, sugar-laden doughnuts.

Do you guys remember this commercial (from the olden days)?

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Dunkin Donuts is waxing poetic about just how often they make fresh doughnuts. But the reality is that this poor guy is making doughnuts morning and night, in rain and snow. He's clearly tired, exhausted even -- but he has to push through and make those doughnuts.

When I was in high school, my sister and I left for an early morning seminary class each school day at around 5:45 AM. It was incredibly tiring and steady, and for some reason, as we stumbled to the car in the darkness of the early morning, we sympathized with that mythical doughnut man. We'd mumble "Time to make the doughnuts." And we'd sigh and then move along.

It's the "moving along" part that I'm working on with Becca.  It's the showing up, the stepping up, the complete commitment to do one's job -- everyday -- even when it's not convenient, or it's boring, or tiring that makes a difference. Because really, much of life is inconvenient, or boring, or tiring.

Right now Becca has a tough schedule. She leaves at 5:30 each morning for track practice. On top of school she has make up work for the seminary she is missing (while she is running track). On Thursdays (track meet days) and Fridays, she  gets up at 5 to go to seminary, even though she may have been at at school from 6 AM until 9 PM the day before. It's a lot, and honestly, she mostly sails right through. But there are times when she is tired and grumpy, and she has to make those doughnuts anyway. Sorry hon. The doughnuts are waiting.

I've always liked this quote by Benjamin N. Woodson: "For my part, I have concluded that the quality which sets one man apart from another -- the factor which lifts one man to every achievement to which he reasonably aspires while the other is caught in the slough of mediocrity for all the years of his life -- is not talent, nor formal education, nor luck, nor intellectual brilliance, but is rather the successful man's greater capacity for self-discipline."

Oh, self-discipline! You are a bitter task-master. But the fruits of your labors can be beautiful and bounteous. Becca came in third in the two-mile at her last track meet. She's "almost" caught up in seminary. We registered for her junior year classes tonight. And so, we just keep making the doughnuts. One foot in front of another. And, really, how lucky are we that there are doughnuts to be made as far as the eye can see?