Love wins. Rinse and repeat.

I stood in Target last night completely and utterly about to lose my mind on my four year old who would not stop with the “Hey Mommy, why are you picking up bananas?” and “Mommy, I want chocolate ice cream!” and “Mommy, Ellie is not sharing the gummy snacks!” and “Mommy, when are we leaving this place so we can go to the paaaaaarrrrrrk??” and IF I HEAR MOMMY ONE MORE TIME I’M GOING TO FLIP OUT SO CAN EVERYONE PLEASE JUST SHUT UP!!!!!!

The really unfortunate part of this situation was that Vaughn apparently can see into the future because before we left the house he asked if we could all wear our “monkey in bath robes” t-shirts (I’ve tried telling him they aren’t wearing bath robes, they are actually little monk monkeys, but he’s four and, frankly, monkeys in bath robes are just funnier to him). Anyway, the back of each of our t-shirts each have a saying: his says “we can do hard things”; Ellie’s says “we belong to each other”; and mine says “love wins”. In that moment of wanting to come completely unglued in the middle of Target I remembered I was wearing Love Wins on my back and if anyone saw me do what I really wanted to do, that would NOT be an example of love winning. My son’s shirt just taunted me all night long:

 

It’s like the pastors that won’t have church bumper stickers printed up for their members to place proudly on their cars. Because the one time that member with the sticker lets their rage go on the road to another driver, that other driver is going to be paying attention to the bumper sticker and make a note never to attend that church. I felt obligated to own up to what my shirt was proclaiming. And in that moment I hated that we were wearing these shirts (sorry, G). I really wished I was wearing a shirt that read “I’m a mom. I’ve had a hard day. My kids are driving me crazy. Please look the other way while I show them what crazy really looks like.”

And I don’t know why I did it but I turned my back to the kids and looked around. Desperate to find someone, anyone, that looked to be in the same crazy boat I was in. Filled with holes, water pouring in, sure to sink within seconds, and frantically trying to get the water out using a bucket riddled with cracks. And I found her. Not even 10 feet away from me.

Except that her boat looked nothing like mine. She was an older lady. Perfectly put together. No kids acting like complete maniacs at her side. And her eyes were peacefully set in their sockets while mine bulged out of my head looking like Ramona Singer of the RYONYC. This lady was reaching for a bag of coffee on the top shelf and wasn’t quite tall enough to get it. I stepped away from my chaos and asked if I could help. She smiled and let me. Then she said, “looks like you have your hands full today” and I laughed with a “oh, you have no idea.” She told me she was a young mom once with five (FIVE!!) children running around and knew these days well. I willed myself to absorb the love this woman was showing. Which is SO hard to do in a moment like that. But she kept talking. She said, “Love really does win, you know, just like your shirt says. Maybe not in this moment but in the end, it does.” By this point I had tears in my eyes and wanted to run but she continued. “Put those kids to bed and take yourself a bath. Wash the day away. They forget these moments of driving mommy crazy and you can start over. You just rinse and repeat.”

“Thank you” is all I got out and walked away. Still kinda wanting to scream at my kids (let’s be honest, even the kindness of that sweet woman wasn’t enough to erase the terror of these kids that are obviously suddenly insane and STILL FIGHTING OVER THE GUMMY SNACKS) but also kinda just wanting to remember that at some point love will win. Maybe not in this moment, but, in the end it will.

And so we left Target and went to the park.

And then I called a friend to say I am coming over whether you like it or not because I just can’t do the mom thing by myself right now. We need those kinds of friends that understand and don’t judge and let us show up unannounced then offer us chocolate cobbler. We need our Monkees.

So, in the end, love wins. Even in the moments when it doesn’t. At the end of the chain of moments that feel like there is no way in this hell I am going through that love can win, it really does.

Rinse and repeat.

Dos and Don’ts of Self-Tanner

Vanity took over this morning and I decided I wasn’t quite tan enough for a Florida girl wrapping up summer. It’s already August for pete’s sake and I’m barely past the winter-white skin tone. Since going to the beach now requires time off of work and hours worth of preparation for the kids-in-tow, I decided to break out the self-tanner sample I got at Sephora a while back.

Having used self-tanners before and knowing that they can leave, how you say, not-so-natural streaks and dark spots if not applied with care and attention, I took my time with the application.

I was thrilled that my legs weren’t resembling the hue of a sweet potato, as I’d feared, and decided to move on to my arms since this was going so well! My arms and shoulders took on a warm sun-kissed glow and I was applying the self-tanner so carefully that I took an extra two minutes to extend the glow to my face. I made a mental note to get the full-size bottle the next time I hit up Sephora.

Ten minutes later, I’m done.

I examined my handiwork and congratulated myself on a streak-free, end-of-summer glow! That’s when I saw my hands. My palms were the most unnatural shade of brown that any white girl should have. I grabbed the soap and a loofa and started scrubbing. The brown didn’t budge. I grabbed the self-tanner bottle to read the back. Clear as day:

“Wash hands often when applying to your whole body so as not to stain palms.”

WHY DIDN’T I READ THE BACK FIRST?!?!?!

So now I’ve got a great summer glow happening, but I’m really glad we’ve moved from high-fives to fist bumps. Not that I do either, really. But if I come across anyone wanting to high-five me in the next few days it might be a little awkward. First, because they are still high-fiving people in 2012 but also because of this:

There is a reason for directions on self-tanner.

The Unfortunate Incident of Ink in the Summertime

Thirteen years ago I walked into a tattoo shop looking for the perfect Chinese symbol to emblazon on my back. I have no roots in anything Chinese. I mean, I like their food, but I don’t think that counts. I was drawn to a philosophical Chinese symbol in 1999 for the same reason I was drawn to the sun that ended up on my lower back in 1997. It was THE THING TO DO. People were speaking Chinese through ink everywhere. All I needed was someone to suggest I join the masses and into the tattoo shop I went.

I chose the symbol pictured above for the phrase “to live” and felt so deep with my choice.  What does it mean “to live”? Something different to everyone. Something different every day, perhaps. It certainly meant something very different to the girl that walked into the tattoo shop that summer day than it does to the woman that still wears that symbol between her shoulder blades. I walked out that day into the sun ready to live my life by my rules. I was no conformist. I was going to remind myself every day to live and let live. Pave my own path. Which all sounds so bold to an experimental 19 year-old, until you look in any direction and see all the other deep, philosophical peeps walking around with Chinese symbols circa the late 1990’s. We were no conformists, indeed. Except to each other.

Fast-forward five years to me sitting in a doctor’s office for a physical. The Doc walked in and went through the normal questions then moves to my bare back to listen to my breathing. After listening for a minute, she says, “Oh, you have Chinese on your back. I’m from China. Do you know what this says?”

Uh, of course I do. The tattoo guy on the beach told me what it meant. As soon as I said “tattoo guy on the beach” I knew this conversation wasn’t leading anywhere good. You’ve heard the joke about the people walking around with “dumb white kid” inked on their bodies in Asian script? Well, it’s not quite that bad but it might as well be. I cringed as I told her it was supposed to mean “to live”, in the philosophical sense, then asked her to enlighten me to what she read it to say.

Her response: Well, it does say “live” but there are many symbols for the different ways we use each word. In your case, this is the symbol for “I live at”, so it should be followed by your address.

Oh. Em. Gee. Dumb white kid, indeed.

So, having lived in four different places since this unfortunate incident of ink in the summertime, this is what my back should actually look like:

There you go. Have a laugh. After letting it sink in for 8 years I can handle it.

Defining My Words

I’ve run into a snag in parenthood. Trying to define the words I use is making me stumble awkwardly down the path of educating through dialogue. I believe in open communication with my children to the point where I even bore myself sometimes with all the communicating. You see, Vaughn, the butterflies come into our garden because of the nectar-producing plants. Nectar is a sweet juice that…zzzzz. I find myself in moments of explaining why or how something happened and realize I don’t know what words to use. Having to stop my explanation to my 4-year old of why people are mean sometimes to define words like kindness and forgiveness ends up losing us both on the many rabbit trails I find.

So last month I decided to focus on a new word each week. Figured it would be good character-building to introduce patience, grace, generosity, etc in at-home speak and it will help my kids keep up with the conversation when I’m in the car trying to explain why we need to be kind to everyone, even when we feel like screaming and hitting (like you just did to Timmy). You know, visions of me explaining, and them absorbing everything. Most likely it will be me explaining, and them zoning out completely. But my vision wins for now.

Anywho, I started with patience. My definition was “to wait with a happy heart”. I was so stinking proud of that one. Off with a bang! Over the course of the week I found so many opportunities to tell Vaughn, “I need you to be patient right now. And that means to wait with a happy heart”. And he bought it! That would stop him in his whining tracks. I actually started finding other things to do when he asked for something just so that I could give him an “exercise” in patience. You want a peanut butter sandwich? I realize it may look like I’m just sitting on the couch watching RHONJ for the 3rd time this week but I was actually just about to fold this laundry that’s been sitting here for two days so, “Hang on, son. Be patient for mommy. Wait with a happy heart.” (of course, I didn’t actually do the laundry) A little sick, I know. But I was character-building.

Week 1 done. Patience learned. I’m such a great mom.

That was last week. This week I chose grace. Definition: sharing or giving with a loving heart. I made a mental note to have all of my definitions circle back to the heart. The big lesson at some point down the road being that character is made up of things we do with our heart as our guide. Man, I am good. Mental note #2: maybe next week’s word should be pride. Nah.

Monday: I started by telling Vaughn that the iPad belongs to Mommy and I love it. I use it a lot and it’s something that is very valuable (rabbit trail here to define valuable) to me. I have games, books, and movies on it for you because I love you and I want to share this valuable thing with you.  I allow you to use it because I love you. And it’s with a loving heart that I share this thing with you. And that is an act of grace from Mommy to Vaughn. He smiled and said, “Ok, can I play with my iPad now?”. Um, I think you may have just missed my point. We’ll try again later.

Before bed that night I took one of Vaughn’s silkies (little silk blankets he’s slept with since he was a baby) and tell him about grace once more. I explain that this silkie is something that he loves and it would be a big act of grace to let Ellie sleep with it tonight. To share something you love with her and have a loving heart while doing that would be very graceful of you. He said he would think about this during story time. Side note: I looooove this age. Watching the thought process and reasoning happen is incredible to me in such a young person. I look at him as a baby still and then he has these moments that remind me of his personhood and I fall in love with him over and over again. Fast-forward to end of story time. He tells me that he loves his silkie and he loves his Ellie and he wants to be grace. (We’ll work on how to use these words later. The point right now is what it means, and CHECK, he got it!) He hands her the silkie. I’m blown away but try not to show surprise at this huge act of love. It doesn’t matter that there are three other silkies laying beside him. What matters in this moment is that he chose grace. I really want to be all ram-in-the-thicket and give it right back to him saying it was all a test and YAY! You aced it! Because honestly, Ellie has silkies of her own and doesn’t really know the difference yet between hers and his. And I’m just so darn proud of him. But I let it stick and put Vaughn’s silkie in the crib with Ellie.

This morning, however, he came to his senses and saw her with it, promptly forgot all forms of grace in his morning stupor and snatched it out of her hands. A work in progress. All of us.

But I realized that this exercise of word defining is teaching me more than Vaughn. Over the past two weeks, I’ve sat in waiting rooms (there’s a reason they are called waiting rooms, not patience rooms. I DO NOT have a happy heart when I’ve been sitting for an hour after my appointment time with no end in sight. There is waiting with a happy heart and then there’s waiting. BIG difference.) and had my patience tested more than I would have liked. But because I’m consciously trying to teach these things to my kids, I’m trying to live them out as well. Teaching a word and living a word is also two vastly different things. Mental note #3 to write about that sometime.

I also had the opportunity to extend grace to my new friend, Faith, this week with my Monkees and she began telling me of a community service project she got involved in last week as a result of the help she had received from us over the past month. She said, “Everyone needs something. And everyone has something to give. It doesn’t matter who you are. We are all called to be faithful servants of God’s love. And that means that we give His love consistently to everyone we meet, no matter who they are. Rich or poor, healthy or sick, man or woman, child or adult. It’s not our call to judge; it is only our call to love.” Faithful servants = loving consistently. Hmmm…

I’m astounded at the ways in which God is teaching me how to love. I may have a little bit (a lot) still to learn as I try to parent my children to be givers of love but I’m so thankful for people like Faith that have been brought into my life to teach me. To show me that no matter how I try to define all the “big words” of life for my kids, the only words that truly matter are those that circle back to the heart.

Next week’s word: Faith. What better way to teach it to someone else than try to learn it myself?

Running

I’m sooooo ready to start running again!!