Water

After what feels like 3 steady months of rain in DC, I am ready to say that I never care to see a drop of water again.  But even I have to admit there’s so much more to water than rain…

Water holds memories

Water is an ocean that separates my sister from me.

Water is the lake – the first place my family gathers when we’re all together.

Water is pool parties – whether the pool is in-ground, kiddie or a puddle just right for splashing.

Water holds smiles

Water floods my bathroom sink when a certain 3 ft. blonde person tries to wash her hands.

Water cleans play doh off my kitchen cabinets.

Water begs for muddy rain boots and a polka-dotted rain jacket (in Brynna’s opinion).

Water longs for solitude, a soft blanket and a good book (in my opinion).

Water holds my future

Water is the analogy Jesus used to show the world how much He loves me. 

Water is where I went under an imperfect person completely helpless to save myself.

Water is where I emerged at peace, forgiven and free.

People think they make vessels to hold water.  Water holds far more than we could build a vessel to hold.

Rainbow Brite

Rainbow Brite.  I know some people think of rain and promises when they think of rainbows.  I think of Rainbow Brite.  She was my favorite.  When I was little, I had a couple of Barbie dolls and a few My Little Ponies.  But Rainbow Brite was my girl.  We went everywhere together.  I even had a Rainbow Brite sleeping bag.  When you’re 6, that’s the defining factor in what’s most important to you – who’s on your sleeping bag.

There has been much discussion lately about where my little Brynna gets her spunk.  David is convinced she’s just like me.  My parents contend that I was not as strong-willed as my baby girl.  Rainbow Brite got me to thinking, though.  There are parts of us that are a product of our environment and external influences.  And then there are the things you don’t choose, but are, rather an outward expression of who you are at your core.  It may seem like an overly-simplistic comparison, but for me, that was Rainbow Brite.  I didn’t choose a princess.  I didn’t pick a fairy tale.  I had Rainbow Brite and Jem.  And we sat together and watched Punky Brewster. Before life taught me that at times, you are expected to conform, these chicks were the outward expression of my inner-spunk.

So I think I’ll stop suggesting otherwise and accept what I’ve grown to be immensely proud of: Brynna gets every bit of that spunk from me.  And it is my highest priority to teach her that no matter what anyone says, she never has to conform.  She can bring color to a colorless world, be “truly outrageous” and do it all with bandanas tied on her legs!*

*Please note: If you are confused by some of these references, you clearly weren’t a little girl in the 80’s and I’m sorry for that. 

Mother Earth

When I was young, the earth seemed so big.  My grandma’s house felt forever away.  The pictures I saw in books had no connection to my real life.  Over time, perspective helped me realize that I grew up less than an hour from my grandparents’ house (not exactly a distance of “forever”).  And life has taught me so much more than those pictures in books ever could have.

Yesterday, I went to Panera to work.  Suddenly my computer screen showed I was receiving a call via Skype so I put my headphones in and answered.  While the rest of the restaurant enjoyed their morning coffee, I chatted with my friend Mikele.  That wouldn’t be so noteworthy except that Mikele is halfway around the world right now.  She called me from Europe.

When I got married, I had never been out of the continental US.  I remember sitting in awe on my honeymoon, staring at the Caribbean.  I had never seen the ocean before then.  A few months ago, I flew over the ocean that I now live a few hours from.

A year ago, I couldn’t have found Malaysia on a map.  In February I spent two weeks there – hearing the language, tasting the food and experiencing the people.

I know so much more now because I’ve experienced more.  But my perspective is limited to those experiences.  It all makes me think about Brynna.  Kids know about their parents what we choose to let them experience.  If I don’t share where I’ve been, what I’ve come through and who it’s made me, Brynna won’t have a full understanding of her mom.  If I only give her a painted picture instead of the real me, she will merely have a two-dimensional portrait – like pictures in a book.  Just as I have a new understanding and love of Mother Earth as I learn more about who she is, I pray my relationship with Brynna is the same.  She will know that I can relate, I love her unconditionally and I will always be here.  She will know that because I will let her experience who I am and who she is. 

A week of Fridays

The past few weeks have been hard.  David has traveled more since we moved to DC than he has his entire career.  He’s been out of town at least half the weeks we’ve lived here.  Normally, I relish time to draw away on my own, but when you have a two-year-old, the minutes in the day when you are alone are few and far between.  He has been gone 8 days now and the day after he left, I developed a head cold.  (Doesn’t that always happen?) All that to say, I’ve been one tired girl.  Dishes have gone undone, laundry has piled up and my blog almost forgot my name it’s been so long since I paid it attention.

Then came Friday.  After a busy week of real estate and trying to keep up with my little energizer bunny on my own, I was exhausted.  I missed David; I longed for time with my girlfriends; I wanted to be at home where my sister is visiting my parents; I needed a break.  Brynna loves the park so after a few errands Friday morning, we headed out in search of a place to play.  Normally, taking Brynna to the park is anything but relaxing.  I’m not sure who those moms are that sit on a bench reading while their perfect kids entertain themselves, but my park experiences are the complete opposite.  By the time I’ve pushed the swing, caught my flying child as she jumps from the top of the jungle gym, spun the merry-go-round and pushed the swing some more, I’m ready for a nap about the time she’s ready for Round 2.  This Friday was different, though.  Brynna found a couple kids to run around with and after an initial push on the swing, let me sit and watch.  I didn’t have a book to read, but I wasn’t going to push my luck.  Staring blankly into space was fine by me.  When it was time to go, I told BG she could slide two more times then we had to leave.  When she came running over after the second slide, I kissed her I was so proud.  We headed home, had lunch and she laid down for a nap.  Still not 100% after being sick, I did the same.  That evening, Brynna and I had a picnic in the basement (yes, we sat on top of the coffee table) while we watched Cars.  Contrary to the norm, after Brynna was in bed, I didn’t feel like I’d just run a marathon.  There was a peace I needed desperately and for which I was so grateful.

Friday was a good day.  I could handle a whole week of that kind of Friday.  

Party Time

Here’s the deal.  When you go into a store with Brynna you are on a time crunch similar to that of a bomb squad. There’s a lot of pressure to get in, get the necessary items accomplished and get out before the timer expires and there is an explosion.  Before we entered Target we had a conversation similar to the one we have anytime we pull into a retail parking lot.  It goes something like this:

Brynna: What’s wrong, Mommy?  (…because Brynna equates the car being in park to when she stops – that must mean something is wrong.  Otherwise, we’d be moving.)
Me:  Nothing’s wrong, baby.  We are at the store.

Brynna: The mall?!

Me: No, we are at Target.

Brynna: Oh (slightly dejected as it registers that this means there is no playground)

Me: Look at Mommy and listen, please.

Brynna:  Ok (looking out the window)

Me.:  Brynna, look at Mommy.

Brynna:  Ok (playing with her shoes)

Me:  Brynna, look at my eyes.

Brynna:  Hi, Mommy (glancing at me with a big smile before returning to her shoes)

Me:  Brynna

Brynna: Huh?  (Finally looks up)

Me:  We are going in to the store.  You are going to ride in the cart.  You are not going to push the cart.  Do you understand?

Brynna: Yes

Me:  You are going to ride in the seat, not underneath the cart.  Do you understand?

Brynna: Yes

Me:  You are going to sit down.  You are not going to stand, throw things out of the cart or grab aimlessly at things on shelves.  Do you understand?

Brynna: Yes

Me:  If you can be a really big girl and listen to Mommy, you can have a surprise after we leave the store, ok?

Brynna:  A surprise?  Like a Cars movie?

Me:  It depends on if you’re a big girl.  Can you be a big girl in the store?

Brynna:  Mommy!  I did it!  I buckled my shoe!

Me.  (pause for silent prayer)  Good job, baby.  Are you going to listen and obey Mommy in the store?

Brynna: Yes.  And I push cart.

Me:  (another prayer) No, you are going to ride.  Do you understand?

Brynna: Yes

Me;  (one more prayer)

At this point, we’d been sitting in an idle car for 10 minutes so ready or not, we headed in to the store.  After 20 minutes inside and already a trip to the potty, I went to grab some things in the toddler clothing section.  Brynna added her opinions and I made decisions as quickly as possible.  I soon realized she was a little more calm and quiet than usual.  I hesitated to look, preferring to ride out my good fortune but decided it better to investigate.  What was my child doing to stay occupied?  She was removing the stickers off all the clothing.  I turned to find her face covered in long strips that say 2T.  One was precariously placed across her mouth, so I decided not to rock the boat.  I accepted that as a blessing and answer to those prayers and kept plowing through the shopping list.  After a stop to decide between Disney Princess, Minnie Mouse or Dora panties, we moved on, Minnie Mouse panties in tow.

And this is where it got interesting.

In her defense, Brynna was doing exactly as I asked.  She was in the cart, sitting down.  In order to stay occupied, though, she had moved from removing stickers and tags to removing the panties from the package.  She started giggling and I turned to see her spinning a pair of Minnie panties over her head like a helicopter.  I laughed and said, “What are you doing, silly girl?”  The response?  “Look, Mommy!  It’s a party.  A panty party!”

About that time, we passed a little girl with her mom who said, “Mom, that baby took the stuff out of the package.  You’re not supposed to do that.”  To which Brynna replied, “It’s panties!  A panty party!”

Reasons I would not make a good judge on SYTYCD

Tonight was the first episode of So You Think You Can Dance Season 8.  As we sat down to watch, I let out a little squeal of excitement (not uncommon during SYTYCD season).  David looked at me, smiled and said, "Come this time of year, I know exactly where I rank.  It's ok.  I'm man enough to accept my position."  God love him for that.  :)


While anyone who knows me will testify to my open and honest critiques, there is one thing I'm certain of - I would never make it as a live judge.  Why?


1.  My face lacks the ability to lie.  Even when I suave it up with nice words, what I really think is always plastered straight across my face.  Janay catches me sometimes and tells me to "school my face."  I try, but it usually wins.  Before I even realize what my opinion is, it's broadcast to the world right there in an expression.


2.  I lack any and all compassion for a sob story.  Even if that story is legitimately sad, I can't stand that we are spending precious time that could be spent listening to Tyce's commentary on something that has no bearing on your ability to (or more often, NOT to) dance.  


3.  While I can't stand a sob story, I am a sucker for a kid who has overcome.  Give me a young person who was given nothing easily, had the option to quit but chose to grow up any day!  I love them just for the courage to do something that kids with all the support in the world wouldn't often try.  I love the humble confidence they have had to develop but don't take for granted.  Favortism?  Yes.


Other than that, I'm a shoo-in!

Black and White

Black and White.  Yes and No.  Wrong and Right.

How much of our nation’s history has been tied up in this issue?  How much of our own personal strife is a result of this contrast?  There is a secret that has been alluding people for centuries.  It’s not that hard.  That’s not to say there aren’t “gray areas” in life.  There are times that it’s more difficult to see which way to go or what to do.  But in most “gray” cases, the issue is not that it’s hard; we just don’t have the guts. 

It’s a scary thing to acknowledge that there is Truth.  Absolute Truth means that sometimes you (and I) are…wait for it…wrong.  I know.  Shocking.  But there is also nothing more freeing than knowing that there is a standard I can rely on, that there is something that can withstand all my doubts and fears. To know that there is a line between right and wrong means that Someone loves me enough to protect me.

I talk a lot about my strong-willed little girl.  The biggest challenge in raising someone so head-strong is that you can’t falter.  You can’t let up.  Ever.  In a very real sense, she is trying to break me.  She is challenging my authority to see if it’s consistent enough to trust.  She is looking for a crack in the foundation.  She’s searching for proof that I’m not strong enough to be the boss so she should take over the job. If the rules are enforced when I’m angry but I let things slide when I’m tired or talking on the phone, that tells her the rule isn’t real.  If it isn’t Right all the time, it’s not a rule worth following.  How familiar does that sound to our daily lives?  We spend all our time and effort trying to prove God wrong (or that He doesn’t exist) when the root of the issue is that we are kids who want someone to make us feel safe.  Even when she goes to timeout, Brynna knows that at least there is something concrete she can depend on.  There is a line.  She crossed it, and she’s willing to deal with the consequences.  But she had to know if the line was there. 

We have spent so much trying to disprove the Line.  We have tried and tried to convince ourselves that the One in charge isn’t there or isn’t strong enough to lead so we need to do the job.  We need to be in control.  The problem is, you and I aren’t big enough to be in charge.  And neither is Brynna.  If she were in charge, climbing the stair banister would be allowable.  After all, it’s not hurting anyone else; she’s doing it in her own house.  What could be the harm, right?  Brynna doesn’t understand physics just yet.  She hasn’t learned the concept of gravity.  But one wrong step and she’d learn one terrifying lesson.  The Line keeps her safe. 

That’s where our guts come in.  Sometimes you have to man up.  Faith is not for the weak.  It’s hard, it’s often painful and it’s costly.  It takes a strong girl to say, “I want to climb the banister but I know it’s wrong so I won’t.”  It requires self-control, humility and fortitude.  It takes that and a whole lot more to trust that there is Right and Wrong, Yes and No, Black and White.

If you can relate to my Brynna, you’re not alone.  If you just want to feel like someone cares and will keep you safe, I have good news.  There is Someone who loves you more than you can comprehend.  I don’t have to (and I promise I won’t) preach you a sermon to tell you I know how you feel and I’ve been where you are.  Send me an email or Facebook message.  We’ll go have ice cream if you live near Houston.  Or I’ll introduce you to a friend wherever you live.  What to do is never the hard issue.  The question is…do you have the guts?