Normal

Dismantling means that eventually you have to rebuild.

But in order to rebuild you have to have a plan.

And to have a plan you have to know your terms.

Which means you have to mull over your definitions and decide which ones work, which ones aren't quite accurate, and which ones are downright wrong.

I'm kicking "normal" to the curb.

Normal isn't.

There's no such thing.

It's actually just whatever I happen to be comfortable with at the moment.

And that's not necessarily completely informed or thought out. Or maybe it is but then two years from now I have new information and experiences and "normal" has changed.

Normal hems in and boxes up.

Normal makes me live with "shoulds" and makes me feel guilty when I don't live up to that arbitrary line.

And, why am I striving for "normal" when I would never use that word to describe who I am?

Crazy. Busy, Creative. Quiet. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Balancing on the edge of a full on breakdown...

Normal isn't even in the running.

So, I'm really working on banishing that word from my vocabulary in favor of a million other more accurate descriptions.

Because the nuances in my life give it color and meaning that is far more than normal.

Don't Drown

I have been systematically dismantling the safe structures around me; the visible and unseen.

Once I said "I want to be comfortable, but not too comfortable. I think we should actively look to disrupt our lives."  Then I took my words literally... 

As I'm wont to do, I tend to mull things over and over. Carefully thinking through all of the possibilities (whether this is in building a story or restructuring my life...it's all the same). Then, one day, I jump. Into the deep end. Then I try to find my way to the surface while also trying to remember to keep a look out for the undersea beauty. Oh, and not drown.

So, if I ever am quiet and still, don't be fooled. It's mass chaos inside my head.

Where to go...

Perseverance, Sweat, and Pride

Six months ago I listed a bunch of activities that The Princess could choose from to participate in. Much to my surprise she chose Karate. Upon arrival at her first lesson (at the business closest to our home, because I wasn't going to drive a long ways on a whim!) I found out that they also had classes for three year olds. And, since I felt bad for Sweet Pea whose life was basically defined by tagging along on her older sister's life, I signed her up too.

Unbeknownst to me, I signed up for the family plan. The family plan that included free classes for parents...  "Oh, that's a nice," I thought.

But I am budget minded, and FREE classes just really shouldn't be wasted, so I sent Steve off to his first class.

When he came back he made me promise I'd go the next night so, with MUCH trepidation, I went. Not to Karate classes - those are just for the kids. I'd somehow signed up for Krav Maga classes.

Oh, you've never heard of it?  Neither had I...  My first class involved a twenty minute death trial that the instructors jokingly called a "warm-up", a quick stretch, and then 30 minutes of learning how to punch correctly ("you're punching THROUGH the jaw, you can dislocate it right here...") and get out of a choke hold.

Seriously, have you ever even thought about getting out of a random choke hold around your neck?

It was totally crazy and totally intriguing and so I went back a second time. And a third. And then I bought an extra shirt (cause you have to wear the right attire, duh). And then I started getting twitchy if something messed with my schedule. I even skipped a couple of naptimes to go to the noon class because I wasn't going to make it to the evening one. (She's ALMOST 4, she can handle it!!  I rationalize well.)

Which brings us to six months later.

I spent 3 1/2 hours in a Krav Maga qualifier to advance to a yellow belt status this past Saturday. I haven't been that nervous in a long time. Nervous for a week in advance. Nervous enough to make stupid mistakes at practice. Nervous enough to choke down food when I wanted to throw it up. Nervous enough to stand at the door and wait for my partner's arrival (we've been practicing together for three months. She's THE BEST!) and hug before we proceeded to punch, kick and choke each other.

At the end we were all shaking, nerves annihilated by exhaustion. We had bruises, scratches, black eyes and jammed fingers. And I accomplished something that was never even on my "to-do" list. Next week I go back, theoretically capable enough to don headgear, pads, and gloves to learn how to kick, punch, and defend myself even more. And I'm pretty excited about it!

Friend

There are good friends.

There are friends who are there through thick and thin.

There are friends who adopt you as family.

And I am so thankful for each and every variety.

Friendship is such a gift.

Sometimes friends just sit in support...

World Cup Connections

It was just another normal day at work where I ride down the hill on the tram to spend 20 to 30 minutes waiting at the research pharmacy to pick up medication for a patient. This time, however, Germany was playing Portugal and the score was already ridiculous - 3-0 Germany. I checked the score, since I had nothing else to do, and was shocked to see that Germany had scored again. My surprised intake of breath caught the attention of the man also waiting and playing with his phone.

Now, normally I would have exchanged a polite smile and returned to my private bubble. I'm not that great with small talk and I work under the all encompassing HIPPA regulations; it's just easier to politely keep to yourself.

"Germany just scored again." I blurted out instead and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
"You're watching the World Cup?" I don't really look like a soccer/futbol fan I guess.

And then we started chatting like old friends with different accents, comparing notes on teams and commiserating on our countries', Mexico and the USA, poor chances for making it past the first round. I told him that we're watching all the games on Univision and working on our Spanish and he directed me to the Univision app so that I could watch the games on my phone (which is what he'd been doing).

It was a connection that wouldn't have been made except for the world-wide excitement about The Cup.

I've thought of him while cheering Mexico on in each of their games (even though a win over the Netherlands would have completely broken my bracket!) and wondered if he remembered me when the US played each of their heart attack inducing games.

I don't think the game can save the world. But, oh does it open doors for some human interaction. And the bridging of different worlds, that is a small step in the right direction.

Magic

There is magic outside.

You just have to get out in it.

 

Fort Vancouver, Washington.

June 2014

Lenten Journey

I've been thinking about Lent.

Yes, it's June and I'm still in March. But that's the way of things, time marches on but the brain takes longer to work through things.

It's a journey

I've always liked the idea of Lent, the time of contemplation, deprivation, and the possibility of inspiration. It's the opportunity to lose a tiny bit of self during the everydayness of life.

But Lent is also possible because we know the end result. The miracle, the resurrection, the new life is in the back of your mind as you work through another day. Haven't we all comforted ourselves with the final 10-day countdown until it all can go back to normal? We make it through the mourning, the black day, the empty day, the questions and unknowns because we know that there is an end, right around the corner.

I thought I was going to have the perfect Lenten inspirational post, how after 40 days the path was clear, the way straight, the end in sight. But instead, the waiting continues. There's no clear destination, no straight answers, no questions wrapped up and tied with a perfectly wrapped bow.

Which, of course, is what the first "Lenten Journey" was like. The disciples had no idea what the end would be, there were no answers to their life upending questions. They didn't know it would be "just" 3 days before their waiting would end. They didn't know that the end of waiting was just the beginning of a new normal that they could have never anticipated and would scramble to acclimate to.

We're still waiting. Still wondering. Still living with hope and fear messily mixed together in a gradually congealing new normal we don't yet recognize. It is frustrating, it is scary, it is faith at work, no matter how small each step may be.

Fragile

Fragility is scary. That risk of shattering into pieces so tiny they can never be fit back together. Shards that pierce your heart, your soul. Fragments that burrow in deep, cutting apart millimeter by excruciating millimeter.

Better to be tough and protected. Practical and sturdy. I'll trade my bone china for dishwasher safe, microwave safe, ovenproof crockery.

But it's a lie, this safety. It crumbles around you. Hearts shatter, souls explode. There is no protection from life. There is just the delicate balance of living with risk, with fear...with possibility.

The risk of being broken on the floor, bleeding out from soul deep wounds, is also the risk of discovering the true essence of yourself; the strength, wisdom, sheer grit and unanticipated beauty that comes from rebuilding, as unfair and unwanted as the reconstruction may be.

There is beauty in the rough edges, the cracks and seams, the missing gaps where pieces were lost and never found.

Because, there are gaps and lost parts - crevices that are never filled or covered over. But maybe it's the cracks where the gust of thankfulness rushes through.

Maybe it's the gap where the whirlwind of wonder forms.

Maybe it's the vibration in the fracture that makes us recognize and sing with the exquisite pleasure of each beautifully fragile moment of time that we're given.

Bear

I didn't notice that she still had Bear in her hand until I looked at the picture later.

 

 

I guard Bear very carefully, I'd be as devastated as she would be if anything ever happened to him.

Practice

The other night, after a rousing game of chase, tickling and "who can scream the loudest in glee " with Daddy, the girls went to bed and spent the next hour trying to settle down. There is a weird correlation: The closer you are to quiet bedtime the more likely it is that a frenzied game of something crazy will ensue.

With lots of hugs, kisses and admonishments to be quiet they finally settled into bed. I went in a little while later to say my own goodnights (In my calm, soothing mom spirit that is guaranteed to cause eyelids to droop and sweet smiles hover on lips. Ha!)

After a hug The Princess said to me "Mommy, I don't like Daddy."

Now, there was much evidence to the contrary, starting with fact that she'd just begged him to tickle her to the point of vomiting and protested loudly when all games were declared to be at an end. And my instinctive response was to immediately tell her she was wrong and educate her as to why.

But I saw the gleam in her eyes. The question, the anticipation, and the WONDERING of what my response would be. Those words were rolling experimentally along her tongue. Because, to a 6 year old this is highly inflammatory statement. To the Dad in question it's rather inflammatory as well. But the response she thought she'd get wasn't what she needed and, more importantly, it wasn't the one I needed to give.

"That's okay. You don't have to like Daddy but he will always love you." Her head cocked with this surprise bit of information.

"Daddy and I love you. Sometimes you might be mad at us and sometimes you'll have lots of fun with us, sometimes we'll all be happy and sometimes we'll all be sad but we will always love you no matter what."

We're both practicing this parent/child thing. She's practicing the ability to be herself, to say what she feels, to be honest with the good and the bad. We're practicing how to create the space to let her do that. How to build the safety in so that when she says it at six or screams she hates us at sixteen she knows that the love is still there.

Plus this is a good way to start building a thick skin.

Fairies in the Sky

Is there anything better than a warm autumn day that fades into a crisp night? With friends, food, pumpkins, play, and a bonfire that sends "sparkly fairies" into the night sky?

 

I think not.

Framing

So... October. Yeah, how did that happen?

 
I've been thinking a lot about framing. How we frame the world, our lives. How it's something we learn, something we practice, something we choose to do.

It's a struggle sometimes, to frame the world with hope.

But, I don't think that framing the world in a positive way is naïve, silly, or a waste of time. It's a struggle between the world we're presented and the belief that there is more going on than what is in sight.

And now, with kids, my frame is even more important. Because, as each day begins I'm teaching them how to view themselves and the world and how they navigate in it.

The frame isn't gilded with gold, it isn't ornate and it doesn't surround rose-colored glass. It's worn, sanded, excoriated and polished with cracks and dents. It's a frame that highlights the good, is realistic about the bad, and knows that the struggles are what give strength, character and empathy.

Decadence and Austerity

This summer has been a strange combination of decadence and austerity. We’ve had many changes in the last couple of months and additional ones looming in the near future. Summer has been filled with the luxury of wide open days and the pressure of hours ticking by.

We’re in the midst of joblessness for Steve. A lesson in frugality and the word “no” and a gift of time that holds more worth than could ever translate into dollars. 

We have spent days and days and days together as a family, a sort of extended vacation that has so disoriented me that I rarely have any idea what day it actually is. They all seem like languorous Saturdays. We’ve gotten on each other’s nerves, laughed over the silly, pleaded for small ones to “just go to sleep already!”, and skipped naptimes in favor of outdoor adventures. And we’ve come to the happy discovery that long swaths of time spent together aren’t a chore or something to dread.

And, of course, there are the inevitable challenges that come from a reduced income. They are expected and real and issues that so many people deal with every single day, I hesitate to say much lest it sound disconnected.  

I do miss Target, though. 

It’s a good reminder that there are the basics, there are the basic luxuries, and there is the gift of abundance that should be used wisely. 

And a reminder is often a good thing.

Breakfast in the Park

Those hot days of summer have arrived, much to my yearly chagrin, and I'm trying to find ways to beat the heat. First brilliant idea: Breakfast in the Park!

Lucky for us the park is mere steps from our condo and, since I am all about simple when it comes to food, it was a matter of grabbing some Morning Glory Muffins and bananas and heading out to the cool air while we still had it.

Everyone was thrilled and we had a good hour before heading back to a pre-planned tea-party The Princess had on her agenda.

After I posted a picture of our morning on facebook I got the most delightful comment. Turns out that my grandparents used to do breakfast in the park, quite unbeknownst to me. Of course, theirs were more elaborate with "coffee, eggs, and bacon cooked over the fire." I'm so thrilled to have that memory shared with me and to find out that I was unknowningly carrying on the tradition.

Favorite Scramble

The Mt. Hood Scramble is my favorite race. I realized that as I was on my hands and knees crawling through brush and trying to locate the next pink tape fluttering from a tree branch to tell me where to go. My shoes were oozing muddy water.

Excited to start!

I've written about this race before, I've run it every year since I discovered it except for those two lifestyle hampering pregnancies I survived. It's grueling and crazy and challenging fun. Every year is different and there's always something that catches you by surprise. This year it was getting stuck in the river for a few moments with one leg pulled down by the current and the other stuck on a root, then I clawed my way up the other side of the bank.

Muddy Aftermath

It's just so out of the ordinary; it's literally a breath of fresh air, no matter that the elevation makes you feel like you're sucking it in through a straw.

Can't wait until next year!

Exhilarating Life

Right now, with all of the traveling and solo parenting, school questions, job stresses, and a general lack of sleep, I'm having a little trouble finding words, much less coherent sentences. I'm just holding on until June when things SHOULD be a little more normal, or at least there will be two adults back in the same house to split some of the parenting duties. By which I mean, give each other one morning to actually sleep in!

In the meantime, this is how I REALLY want to feel about life.

Reader

We read around here. A lot. It's something I'm thrilled about and try to encourage as much as possible.

As the Princess gets older we're reading chapter books together - it's so much fun to revisit the ones that I've loved. Plus, it gets me out of reading the encyclopedia ones she loves so much; forest fires, earthquakes, killer spiders, dinosaurs, pyramids and mummies, insects, mammals, and tsunamis is just a fraction of her list of "must reads".

 
The hour of reading before "lights out" each night.

Reading List So Far (that I can remember, which means this list is suspect and incomplete...):
Betsy-Tacy Series
All of a Kind Family
Lulu and the Brontosaurus
Geronimo Stilton (she is OBSESSED with this series. She's listening to it and we're reading books together)
The Wizard of Oz
Paddington Bear
The Magic Treehouse
James and the Giant Peach

Bracing

I've said it before and I'll say it again so you can just skip these posts when you start getting bored (if you're not already). Getting outside is truly the remedy when an attitude adjustment is needed. Especially when it's cold and rainy - bracing weather that rattles out the cobwebs and washes away the funk.  Good Stuff.

Columbia River Gorge. Stunning in any weather

Graveyard at the Columbia Gorge Interpretive Center

Columbia Springs Fish Hatchery. The raincoat is a must!

Technologically Savvy

In case you find yourself waiting, trying to fend off boredom, but without your phone, ipad, Kindle, tablet, or whatever other gadget you carry around with you, there ARE other options.

Teenage Girls, a Paradox

I was never a good babysitter, I didn't want kids, I was shocked to find out that I liked the baby stage and wished (sort of) that my own kids would stay babies forever.

She must be crouching because we were the Tall and Short of it...Friends

But, here I am holding a baby. And I'm standing next to my best friend, practically on the equator though a mile up in elevation. And this baby is a symbol of our "projects". Every year our Mennonite group would meet for 10 days and, for the month before, we would make plans. Carefully choosing our victims and planning to ambush them during our relaxing retreat.

We drew and colored elaborate pictures to be left on front doors, sewed awkward stuffed animals for babies, posted little notes, and left surprise gifts on doorsteps; all in an effort to make a few people feel special and loved.

How on earth did two early-teenage girls come up with this idea? Girls, so complicated from day one. A mix of selfless and selfish, sweet and mean, thoughtful and thoughtless. I'm sure that our "victims" were amused and touched, but I know that the joy and excitement we got out of our plans and the covert secret execution so we wouldn't get caught was something that I carry with me still.

That thrill of making someone else happy.