Nightmares

Monkey woke me up last night when she had a nightmare.  It was, I dunno, around 2 am.  When I heard her feet shuffling in (and felt the cat scatter away from her sleeping spot) I figured it was Little Man, but no, it was Monkey.  She asked if I'd get into bed with her and since it's been a long time since she'd asked, I said OK.  But just for a little while.  My kidneys tend to get bruised when we actually sleep in the same bed.  I'm still recovering from our week of visiting family.

 

Anyway, it got me to thinking.  What do children have nightmares about?  Not enough cake at the birthday party so they don't get a slice?  A bully at school?  I never ask Monkey what her nightmares are because I don't want them to linger in her mind any more than they already do.  And remembering dreams is so difficult anyway.

 

But, still, I wonder.

 

She's in a stable home, she has loving parents, clothes, food, toys out the wazoo, a pesky brother.  From my perspective, anyway, her life seems pretty good, so what would she have to be afraid of?  I'm not naive enough to think that all children are this lucky.  I'm know that there are children all over this world that have legitimate nightmares and may possibly be living those nightmares out.  That is terrible and a whole other topic.  It's not my intent to travel down that road first thing this morning. 

 

I remember having nightmares as a kid.  I had a recurring one that was, in hindsight more strange than scary, and had to do with being stuck on the furniture because the floor was hot lava with some big monster chasing me and I had to jump from couch to chair to steamer trunk to get away.  Yes, I was a creative child.

 

Monkey is a creative child, too.  So what does her vivid imagination create for her at night that scares her?  I don't know, but I'm glad she still comes to get me.

 

Do you remember...

photo by lachicana

 

  Do you remember.... 

 

rotary phones?

 

when record players had 3 speeds? 

 

dual cassette decks?

 

cassette tapes and cassette singles?

 

8 track tapes?  (A good friend of mine had one in her room when we were kids - shout out to e.s.!)

 

life before microwaves?

 

when cable only had 40 or so channels?

 

when you could play outside until the street lamps came on?

 

teachers could still hug their students in elementary school?

 

when TVs were in black and white?

 

or when TVs were those big consoles?

 

when VCRs and Beta players were competing?

 

cd's were the "new thing"?

 

when you could buy laser disc movies?

 

life before the internet?  and cell phones?

 

crank windows in cars (did you know they still make cars with crank windows???)?

  

when gas was $0.79/gallon?

 

cartoons were only on TV on Saturday mornings? 

 

when MTV actually played music videos?

 

 

I know there's an email floating around with a lot of these, but these are all from my own experience/childhood.  I know if I had more than a few minutes to think about it, I'd have more to add, but I have chores waiting for me.  So, what do you remember from your own childhood that isn't part of the "norm" any more? 

 

What is a friend?

photo by Gwennypics 

 

  Friends.  

 

A wise man once told me that if you can count the number of good, true friends on one hand, you are truly blessed (thanks, Daddy).  I think that I am lucky enough to have a few more than that.  I've made lots of friends over the years.  Some have come and gone, but some have stayed with me.  One from childhood (Hi, E.S.!), a few from college and many since then.  People that I know that I can count on if I need help.

 

So, what is a friend?  How do you define friendship?  Is it someone you don't have to talk to but you know is there for you?  Is it someone you see every day?  Do they take care of your children or do you take care of theirs, or both?  Could it be someone that you've never even met face to face, only become friends over the internet?

 

How do you maintain that friendship?  Is it though phone calls, emails, Facebook or texting?  Do you see them on a daily or weekly basis?  Maybe only once a month for dinner out or once a year for a weekend getaway?  Or is it even less often than that?

 

I know that we can't get through life without building relationships with others.  Our children are quick to make friends and we should be, too.  We should be open to meeting people of all kinds because we never know what kind of influence they'll have on our lives.  I know that I'm guilty of staying within my comfort zone when it comes to meeting people and making friends.  I haven't ventured out to areas outside my church or my daughter's school or the gym where I work out.  So what am I missing?  Is it possible that my horizons could be broadened by befriending someone who is struggling with addiction?  Or someone who is from another country or culture than mine?  Absolutely.

 

What holds me back?  I don't know...  fear of the unknown, perhaps.  Shyness.  Hmmm...  something to work on.

 

I can't imagine what life would be like without the friends I've made.  They make me laugh, hold me when I cry, tell me if I'm screwing up (nothing like brutal honesty from a friend, right?), help me with advice or even just hang out with me.  I'm so very thankful for the friends that I have made.

 

I remember another bit of wisdom.  I'm sure I'll get the wording wrong but hopefully you'll get my meaning.  Friends love you because they want to, family loves you because they have to.  That may not be entirely true - I'm sure there are some who don't love certain family members - but the point is, the friends you have don't have to be your friends.  They are there because they want to be and because you want them to be there, too.

 

Treasure your friends.  Tell them once in a while - hey, I'm glad you're here.  Think about the things you value in your friends and are you exhibiting those same traits to them?  Are you as good a friend to others as they are to you?

  

Go hug a friend today.  Just because.

 

Patterns

photo by mikebaird.

 

  Life.  There are a lot of different things people say about life.  Circle of life.  Seasons of life.  Life routines.  Getting into the groove.  But what about life patterns?  Patterns are everywhere if you look hard enough.  Seasons come in a pattern.  The phases of the moon form a pattern.  How plants and animals grow and change is a pattern.  Music is a pattern.  Reading follows a pattern.  Everything starts at one phase and changes to another phase; a pattern.  You could even look at day/night as an A/B/A/B pattern.  

   

  

 

 photo by faeryboots

 

  

Have you ever examined a bumble bee?  He has a pattern.  Flowers follow patterns.  Trees, animals - think zebras and tigers and leopards - birds.  Think about animals that migrate; they follow a pattern every year of their life.  Everything around us has a pattern.  Even down to the DNA.  We, as people, have and develop patterns.  Oh, we call them routines, but they are patterns just the same.

 

We're entering back into the school pattern today.   I love the school pattern.  I'm selfish that way.  I love being able to get my kids off to school so I can do mundane things like go to the grocery store without them.  I can run around and do little errands that would take me twice as long if I had even one of them with me.

 

Patterns (or routines) make life easy to follow.  I bet you travel the same way to work every day, if you work outside the home.  If you work from home, I'm sure you follow a pattern there, too.  Get up, get coffee, sit at the desk/computer/whatever for about the same length of time before you get more coffee.  As a parent getting children ready for school, you follow a pattern.  How many times a morning do you say, "Come on or we'll be late for school," or "Hurry up and finish your breakfast"?  Wouldn't it be interesting to note for, say, a week, what time every morning you say that or something similar?  

 

Some patterns are necessary for survival.  An easy survival pattern to think of might be the spots on a fawn or a snake.  They camouflage the animal so it can either hide from the predator or the prey.  But what about a traffic pattern?  Imagine what might happen if an airplane didn't follow a flight pattern or cars didn't follow the road patterns.  What if a building was built haphazardly instead of utilizing the basic pattern needed for construction? 

 

 

photo by rutlo.

 

 

Think about it.  What is your pattern like?  What would happen if your pattern got disrupted somehow?  Would it totally screw up your day or would you just roll with it and adapt? 

 

Stop, today, at some point and look around you.  Do you see the patterns?

 

New Year's Goal

Resolutions.

 

Everyone is writing about resolutions.  Well, maybe not EVERYONE, but quite a few bloggers in my reader are.  I can't remember when I stopped making them.  It was several years ago, mainly because I couldn't keep any of them.

 

This year, I resolve to... what?  What is it about making a resolution that makes it so difficult to keep?  I'm sure we all have something we need to resolve to do.  Exercise more, eat better, quit smoking/drinking/whatever-your-addiction, build a better relationship with someone, forgive someone, give more, give less (sounds greedy, I know, but I'm sure there are people out there who give and give until they have nothing left for themselves, be it money, emotions, love, whatever), read more, write more, be more creative, spend more time with family/friends, learn to say "no", learn to say "yes", start a new hobby, finish an old project, clean out a closet, learn a new skill. 

 

There are so many resolutions, but why do we keep it only at the new year?  Just because it's a new year?  The start of something new always seems to lead to wanting to change something in our lives.  The promise of a do-over.  The thought that this time, this year will be different.  But why not each new month or each new day?

 

My church has Celebrate Recovery on Thursdays.  I haven't been to the services - I'm blessed to not have any addictions - but I do know that some people in recovery go day by day.  Before their feet hit the floor they say Thank You to their greater power, be it God or something else, for giving them this day.  Maybe they have to resolve to not take that drink, or drug, or participate in whatever their addition is every day. 

 

Why don't we make resolutions every day?  Maybe we do, but don't consider them "resolutions".  It's a To-Do list, or a chore list, or an "I really need to get this done today" list.  I know there are task-oriented people out there who relish the idea of getting things accomplished.  I like being able to mark off something on my list and having the satisfaction of completing something but a resolution hangs over my head like a dark cloud.

 

This year, I resolve to change it from "resolution" to "goal".  And my goals will be monthly, not yearly.

 

In January, my goal will be to work out twice a week, which is a big step up since I haven't really worked out at all since school started in August.  

 

Maybe in February, my goal will be to clear out some things I've collected over the years.  It's tough being a pack-rat married to a non-pack-rat.  Or maybe I'll step up to working out three times a week.  I don't know yet; I'll decide in January.

  

I like this plan better than one big resolution for the whole year.  I might actually be able to keep a resol- oops, I mean, goal and not break it.  I encourage you to be creative in your thinking for the upcoming New Year's Resolutions, especially if you have trouble keeping them.  Maybe you just need to look at it from a different angle.  Write it down, email yourself a reminder once in a while, put it on a calendar, stick it to the fridge.  Help yourself keep your goals and be successful.  

 

So, what is your goal for 2009?

(wow, is it really 2009?!?)

 

Catching up

It's amazing some of the things you miss when you spend an entire week focused on one story.  I'm not sure I could ever be a true niche writer.  I would feel like I'm leaving too much out.  

 

Let's start with a tree.  We got a Christmas tree this week.  Monkey picked it out and I have to admit, she picked a nice tree.  Then we put it up and let the kids decorate.  It was a very bottom-heavily decorated tree until Trey and I started picking up the children and helping them place some ornaments near the top.   It's a very good-looking tree if I do say so myself.  I did the rest of the decorating by Thursday.  I didn't do as much as I have in the past.  I mean, we do have an 8 month old puppy and a now three-year old, so I was less inclined to put out my nice fragile stuff.  As it is, I can't tell you how many ornaments have been knocked off the tree.

 

As if you could miss it, yesterday was Little Man's birthday.  Let me be the first to tell you, kid's birthday parties whip my tail.  Especially my own kids.  And we had two parties back to back.  I was exhausted by the time we got home that afternoon.

 

The first party, Little Man's, was at Chuck-E-Cheese.  Oh, how I hate that place.  We also had Monkey's party there, back in August, but it was much, much busier there yesterday.  The second party was for WB, Little Man's best friend.  They have such a love/hate relationship, they really should be related.  His party was at one of those indoor bounce house places with all the fun inflatibles.  The best part was watching Trey and WB's dad race through the obstacle course.  Now THAT was worth the torturous day of screaming children suffering from the hypoglycemic rush of pizza and birthday cake - twice!

 

There's more to catch up with, like getting tagged for the first time, but I just don't have the energy right now.  Another day perhaps...

 

 

Seasons of life

An old friend called the other day.  Not one of these old friends but a real person kind of old friend.  Honestly, we hadn't talked in probably two years.  I'll call him Steve, but that's not his real name.  We worked together at a music store way back when I was in college.  We never dated or anything, we were just friends.  In fact, he, his roommate, my roommate and I went to Woodstock '94.  Now those were good times.  Hanging out in the mud and rain, listening to all different kinds of music...  but I digress.

 

My point this evening is that while talking with Steve, I realized that we are no longer in the same season.  Over the last two years or so, I would hear people talking about the "seasons of life".  Everyone goes through them at varying times.  I've been through several already.  Not counting High School (which is a season of seasons), I've survived probably three or four different ones.

 

Let's see, there's the Freshman in College Season.  Yes, this does deserve it's own season.  Think back to when you first started college, if you went to college.  All of a sudden you are on your own.  You have no one to answer to but yourself.  Some make it, some don't, some barely scoot by and some excel.  But either way, you go through that season.  I survived, fairly well if I remember correctly.

 

Then, for me, there's the party season.  Specifically raves.  Yes, I'm old school.  I admit it.  I was going to raves back when they were still in dark warehouses that had electricity pumped in for the weekend or even just the night.  Invitations were printed on tiny slips of paper or it would just be word of mouth.  I'd think nothing of getting off work at said record store at 9:30 or 10:00pm, drive two hours to get to a rave in another city and stay out all night long then turn around and drive back in time enough to open the store again at 1:00 Sunday afternoon.

 

That season lasted about a year or two.  Then there were the Dead shows.  Need I say more?  Actually, for a while there, those two seasons coexisted.  Come to think of it, College Life needs it's own season, period.

 

Back then I was young and dumb.  Crazy, even.  I wasn't a bad person, but hey, it was college.  I'll be able to relate to my daughter and son when they get older (God help me!).

 

Then there was the post-College pre-Marriage season.  Just trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  You know, the typical 20-something.  Trey and I were hanging out, traveling, working a lot but it was good, you know?

 

Then we got married.  Everything changed, but slowly at first.  We would still meet up with friends and hang out at restaurants with bars but nothing that would be considered "partying".  We still traveled and had fun.  Another season.

 

Then Monkey came along - ushering in the Parenting Season.  This, by far, has been the most challenging and rewarding season of all.

 

Steve is still in the post-College pre-Marriage season.  I talked about being a PTA mom, driving a mini-van and he laughed.  I'm guessing he still sees me as the raving hippie that I used to be.  He talked to me about his old roommate and going back to our college town for homecoming.  He told me about his current jobs and such.  He's been seeing someone for a while - you know, we chatted.  I talked about the kids and school, we talked movies and music and how much things have changed in the music sales industry since we were working together.  We talked for about 45 minutes about lots of things, actually, but when we were done, I realized how different I had become.  

 

Had being a mom really changed me that much?  Do I really have that little to offer someone outside my season?  Sure, I can relate very well with parents of children about 10 years and younger, but after that, what do I really have other than stories and experiences?  I'm sure they will come in handy one day- like when Monkey hits her teen years (AAAH!).

 

Seasons come and go; the wheel is turning and you can't slow down.  All we can do is move forward and look back fondly on our lives.  We all have our seasons.

 

So, what season are you in?

Welcome Home

I saw something beautiful today at Little Man's preschool.  As I was picking him up, I noticed that there was a mom greeting her little boy.  I didn't think anything of it until I noticed Mrs. J. taking a picture.

 

Huh?

 

So I look closer at the mom and I notice that she's wearing desert BDU's.  Mrs. J. said to me, "She just got home today, just now in fact."

 

This cute little blonde boy, one of Little Man's classmates, is seeing his mom for the first time in a long time.  The little boy's twin sister didn't know yet.  She was still washing her hands in the bathroom.  I never saw the boy's expression when he noticed his mom there, but I can tell you that he didn't leave her embrace.  She crouched there with her arms wrapped around him whispering things only he could hear.

 

Then his sister came out of the bathroom.

 

You know how young children, older two's specifically, sometimes take a few seconds to register what they're seeing?  It's like you can watch their thought process in slow motion across their little faces.  This was her reaction.  She stared across the room at her mom then recognition flashed across her face.

 

Then her face completely changed and it glowed.  She excitedly tip-toe walked to her mom and wrapped herself around her, sharing the space with her brother as they've done all their lives.

 

Believe it or not, I never saw a tear from the mom or the dad, standing quietly to the side.  It was almost like they were in their own little world completely oblivious to all of us outsiders.  But I do believe that everyone else in the room got a little choked up.  I couldn't stop smiling.  See, I've been a part of that kind of homecoming before but to watch it from the outside, it truly is a sight to behold.

 

Welcome home.

 

 

Depression stole $10

I'm not an organized person at home.  Back in the day, when I used to work full time, I would be very organized at work, but it's like I would leave it there when I clocked out.  When Depression moved in, he made it worse.  I coined a phrase (although it probably isn't original).  He turned me into a Functioning Depressive (is that even a word??).  Outside my front door, everything was "normal."  I'm doing all the stuff I normally do, usually with a smile on my face.  I even managed to go to Kohl's on Friday and buy two new sweaters (they were 1/2 price - love a sale!).

 

But Depression would sneak in if a friend asked "how's it going?" and I'd fall apart.  Quietly, though, hiding behind my sunglasses.

  

But you should see the inside of the house.  OK, maybe I don't need to go on "Clean Sweep" or Oprah's messiest house shows, but really?  It's a mess.

 

Mail, for example.  We keep mail in a basket on the steps, just inside the front door.  The last few weeks, I haven't really gone through it, except to pull out the bills.  As of Sunday morning I had Three. Steps. Full.  Of mail.  Crazy, right?  Magazines, catalogs, ads, junk mail, you name it.  It was there.  So, Sunday morning I had had enough.  I sat down and started going through the stacks.

  

There is was.  

 

From Kohl's, a $10 gift card to use on anything.  Something they had sent in the mail a couple weeks back.  I vaguely remembered at the time thinking "Cool!  I can always find something at Kohl's."  Did I remember on Friday that I had it?  No.  Depression wanted it for himself.  Could I use it for something else?  No.  It expired on Saturday.

 

Stupid Depression.  Now he's stealing money, too.  I bet he and High Blood Pressure went on a shopping spree.

  

old friends...

I've had two old friends come and visit recently.  Usually, I enjoy catching up with old friends.  We talk about things we're doing, rehash what madness we may have shared in the past, glance at the future.

 

But not this time.

 

This time, I'm not happy to see these old friends.  They're both kinda sneaky.  Gliding in like mist through a crack in the wall.  That imperceptible presence just outside of my line of sight.  These friends like to linger.  I guess they like me.  I should be flattered, right?

 

I'm not.  I wish they'd go be someone else's old friend.

 

I first met Depression in 2003.  That friend managed to stay around a while - almost a year in fact - before I kicked him out of my house.  He tried to come back again in 2005 but I was much better than him that time.  He only lingered a few weeks.  He got clever, though.  He found ways to sneak in to my life without me even knowing he was there.  It wasn't until a conversation with a good friend that I realized that Depression had moved into our spare bedroom.  I was too busy looking the other way to notice.  So, at the advice of said friend, I went to see the doctor this week, hoping to find a way to make Depression move out.

 

That's when my other old friend showed up.

 

Her name is High Blood Pressure and she really is a sneaky bitch.  I bet she's pissed at Depression, though, because now her cover is blown.  I first met High Blood Pressure when I was pregnant with Little Man.  She was persistent and refused to go away.  She didn't bring along her other preeclampsia friends, just her own bad self.  She even managed to force the doctors into delivering our son six weeks early and then started a knock-down drag-out fight with the doctors forcing them to bring out the big guns - the Magnesium Sulphate drip.

 

Yeah, High Blood Pressure is an evil bitch.

 

She managed to live in the spare bedroom of my life until after Little Man was about 6 or 8 months old, then she left.  Sometime in the last 6 months, she's decided to move back in.  

 

I suppose I should be thankful to Depression, though, because without him, I would never have known she was there.  I stopped checking for her after she had disappeared for months and doctor's visits over the last two years turned up nothing.  She was gone.  Needless to say, I'm now on to them both.

 

Excuse me while I go draw up an eviction notice.

 

 

where's the love, man?

[knock knock]  Anyone home?  Hey, Kool-Aid?  Are you there?  Where is she?  Anyone know where Kool-Aid is?

 

I have been wallowing in self-pity, that's where.  See, Trey is out of town and I'm left to do all the work two parents normally are able to share.  It's not like he hasn't traveled for work before.  It's not like I haven't done the "single parent" thing before.  I've done it several times over the course of the last 6 years.  No, many times.  More than I care to remember.

 

Sometimes it's a weekend, sometimes it's a week, sometimes it's two weeks, but every time it gets harder.

 

Maybe it's the age of the kids.  6 and just-about 3.  They keep me busy; they keep the house messy - oh, wait, no that's me.  But they help keep it messy.  And I'm forever trying to negotiate peace treaties.  After this, I think I could help the Israelites and the Palestinians strike a permanent peace accord - surely that would be easier than getting those two siblings to get along.

 

I'm wallowing in self-pity because I can.  Poor-poor me.  I really shouldn't be, though.  There are others who are worse off than me, for sure.  I have a roof over my head, food in the kitchen and a car to get me where I need to go.  Also, I have friends that love me and are willing to help.  Why is it so hard to ask for help?  A dear friend and I were talking on Saturday and she told me "When you don't ask for help, you rob someone of the opportunity to help you."

 

When you don't ask for help, you rob someone of the opportunity to help you. 

 

Strong statement, that.  Yeah, I have smart friends.  I should listen to them.

 

So, I'm asking for help.  Accountability from some of you readers out there.  Have I cleaned the computer desk yet?  How about picked up the toys?  More importantly, have I read to Little Man today or is he plopped in front of the one-eyed babysitter?  Have I played Little Pet Shop with Monkey today?  Or helped her with her homework?  What about those leaves that are scattered like so many thoughts out in the front yard?

 

Imagine how happy those kids would be if I raked up a great big pile for them to play in. 

  

Imagine how much fun it'll be for me to watch those kids scatter the leaves that I worked so hard to put in a pile for them.  

 

They might actually get along... for about 5 minutes until one jumps in the pile before the other one and a fight ensues because the pile is no longer there and there are no more leaves to jump in because big sister or little brother spread them all out again and now there's just no more fun to be had even though there are a bazillion trillion leaves out there that just need to be scooped back up and tossed into the air.

 

I think I should head to Israel.

 

Daylight savings

Ahhh.... daylight savings time.  It's the two times a year that we actually have "control" over time.  In the spring, we get to spring forward and skip an hour.  As if our days weren't short enough as it is.  In the fall we get to fall back and trick our bodies into thinking they get an extra hour of sleep. 

 

Next year, I'm just going to bed an hour earlier.

 

The puppy (who is crated in our room at night) usually is a great sleeper - except for the snoring, but I can get past that.  He picked this morning, at about 4am, to wake up and whine that soft but high-pitched whine that slices through your subconscious like splinters under the fingernail.  I do my best to ignore him and manage to drift off to sleep again.  If there's one thing he's learned in his relatively short time here, it's that whining will not get him out of the crate now that I know he's able to control his bladder for the entire night.

 

The children don't understand what daylight savings is.  Monkey will sleep late, if you can call 7:00 late, but Little Man follows a different drummer.  At 6:30 am (and this is before I turned back my clocks, so that makes it 5:30 am), Little Man comes climbing on my bed and uses my prone body as a guide to crawl to the top of the bed - as if falling off my body will dump him into a deep abyss.  Once he reaches the pillows, he finally climbs off and asks to be covered up and lays still for a little while.

 

Have you seen The Lion King?  Remember the scene where Simba gets up and plays with his sleeping parents trying to wake them up by crawling all over them and talking to them when they OBVIOUSLY don't want to be woken up?  Does Simba stop?  No.  Does Little Man?  No.

  

Just as I thought he was drifting off, he becomes one with Simba and starts crawling all over the bed and talking about breakfast.  Things like cereal and waffles and such.

 

"Let's go back to sleep."

 

"But I'm really, really hungry."

 

Damn his cuteness.

 

So yes, I'm up at my "normal" weekend wake-up time of 6:30am despite the fact that I was supposed to get an extra hour of sleep.  Making pancakes from scratch because I'm out of my mix.  At least there's coffee.

 

Yeah, next year, I'll just go to bed at 9:00 to get that extra hour of sleep.

 

 

(I'll be posting a Halloween post once I get my pictures downloaded from the camera.  I know I'm a little late, but that's how I roll.) 

the wheels are turning

I have a thought.  It's been bouncing around in the empty space between my ears for a while.  It has to do with this blog.  I know I don't have a lot of regular readers outside immediate family and some friends, but I do know there are a few out there that come by once in a while to read.

 

I think that's really cool.  I love looking at my statcounter and seeing the different places people come in from.  I like to try and guess who they are, too.  Now, I know that there's no way to know who is visiting me from where, but I still like to play that game.  Did the blog writer from blog A visit me today?  Are they from Florida?  I can't remember...  That kind of thing.  Several have left comments, which I love because then I know who is reading and what they think.  Sure, there are a lot that just hit on my blog with a search and bounce away again, never to return, but that's ok.  It's still one more spot on my map.

 

I never made any pretense that this blog would turn into one of those that had huge readerships.  I'm not doing this for money, my main focus is still for the family and friends that want to know what's going on with us.  However, the more I read blogs, the more interesting people I "meet" and I want to invite them over to my little space in the blogosphere.

 

It's like when you meet people at a social gathering or event.  There are those you meet that are nice and you shake hands and say "nice to meet you" but then you move on.  And then there are those that you meet that for whatever reason, you just keep talking to them.  They have that ... something ... that you want to be a part of and you want to introduce them to your friends.  I've seen a lot of blogs like this.  I read them regularly and I want others to read them too.

 

So, back to my thought.  I want to have "guest posts".  But it's really weird to ask someone you don't "know" to come write something for your own blog.  At least it is for me.  I've already asked one and she said she would, but she's busy (I know how THAT is!) and it hasn't worked out just yet.  I'm still excited about it and look forward to making it work.

 

I have a list in my head of who I want to ask.  Some have done guest posts before and others I don't think have, but I hope to ask them.  I want to ask them.  One of these days I'll step out of my comfort zone and ask but until then... 

 

...any volunteers?

 

The ripple effect

photo by Snap®

 

 

There's an interesting discussion that has been brewing at another blog that I regularly read.  Writer Dad first spoke of an incident he was involved in here, naturally lots of comments followed, then he continued with this post and even more comments followed.

 

It lead me to question something that was embedded in a comment, although I can't find the exact one, now.  That one person cannot bring about change, so why bother?

 

Seriously?  There are plenty of examples in history where one person started something that caught on and brought about change.  Jesus, Muhammad, Ghandi, MLK Jr., Susan B. Anthony, Jim Jones and Mother Theresa are all examples that just popped into my head.  I'm sure if I were to dig deep in the annals of the internet, I would find dozens upon dozens of names of people who have changed something around them because of their actions or their words - both positive and negative.

 

What about on the small scale?  Have you ever read something or heard something that someone said that caused you to stop and think for a moment?  Have you ever had a conversation with someone that caused you to change your views - or at least reconsider them - about something?  Maybe you saw a pastor speak at a service and whatever they had to say resonated with you so much that you had to go and do something about it.  Suppose you saw someone on the side of the road with a flat and because you helped them change a tire, they were able to get to the hospital to visit a dying friend.  You know that homeless person standing there holding a sign on the corner of the intersection?  Suppose you gave him/her a bottle of water on a hot day.  I have a friend that keeps a case of water bottles in her car for such instances.  And parents have unbelievable ripple effects on their children, so many they can't possibly know them all.

 

The point of all this is that it is absolutely impossible for one person to NOT cause changes in their environment.  It's a ripple effect.  What I do today will cause changes around me.  Maybe it's a small change.  Maybe it's a big change.  Maybe I'll never know, but when I toss that pebble out there, there will be ripples and they will spread.  

 

Can you honestly say that one person can't bring about changes?  In Writer Dad's case, that has yet to be seen.  But even if the vandal chooses to just go to a different stop sign instead of quitting altogether, change still occurred and one person caused it.  Or maybe someone who witnessed the incident decides that he/she will stand up the next time.  Maybe it's just as simple as someone who saw it told it to someone else and that started a chain reaction.

 

Remember that what you do today can and will cause a ripple effect.  Are you tossing a good pebble or a bad pebble and just how big will those ripples be?

 

The golden rule

My faith in humanity is somewhat restored.  Not because the bailout was voted out but because of something that happened in the car line yesterday.

  

I have a pet peeve.  Actually, I have several, but one of them is people cutting in front of me while driving.  I noticed it all the time in the mornings last year dropping Monkey off at school.  Some parent would be late for work, I'm guessing, so they're in such a hurry they feel they have the right to cut in line.  I don't mean just cutting in front of me when I let the person in front of them in, although that bothers me, too, but cutting through the staff parking lot to get towards the front of the line.  I mean, all the rest of us have to wait to meander through the line, what makes you so special that you can bypass all the other parents waiting in line?

 

Whenever that happened last year, I made a point to NOT let that person in if I happened to be near where they would be trying to get in line.  Unfortunately, at 7:20 am, there are people nicer than me that would let that better-than-thou parent through the line and their shortcut would then be justified because they made it through the line before everyone else.  We're all adults, here, right?  If you're running that late then maybe, just maybe, you should get up earlier.  Take some responsibility for your own actions and don't be late.

 

But I digress.  Yesterday, I got to Monkey's school a little earlier than usual for pickup.  I was the first to show up, so I park in the car line at a spot where I think the first car usually parks.  There was one car that parked right behind me right after and since that mom didn't give me the "why don't you pull ahead" look that people give at the station when you stop at the first pump instead of pulling right through, I figured I was ok.  I needed to pick up something from the office, so I grab Little Man and walk in.  I was inside for about five minutes and when I went back out, there were about 4 or 5 cars behind me and one in front of me.  Not farther in front, like they were parking to get something then leaving, but you could tell they passed the other cars, pulled in, then backed up to park in front of me.  The driver was still in the car, so I knew they were there for the pick up line.

 

I really don't care if I'm the first one or not.  I'm usually in the first 10-20 cars because I get there early enough to sit in the car and read for about 20-30 minutes before school lets out.  Yesterday's timing was a fluke.  But it bothered me to no end that someone had the gall to pass other parked cars to position himself as the first car.  However, I try and let it go and enjoy my quiet 30 minutes before dismissal (Little Man often naps in the car while we wait).

 

After a while, though, just a little before dismissal, he starts his car, drives to the end of the circle, parks and walks up to get his child.  Huh?  After all that work of parking at the head of the line, now you're walking up to get your kid?  I don't get it.  Oh, just so you know, dear reader, I don't leave my car running while waiting in the car line - another pet peeve of mine.  No matter how hot, I'll turn off the motor, roll the windows down and open a door.  So, I notice this dad walking towards my passenger side window.  He comes up to me and apologizes for parking in front of the line!  

 

Graciously, because I'm a good southern gal and all that, I tell him how nice that is and he really didn't have to and all that.  He says that he didn't know I was waiting in the car line (I wasn't in the car when he arrived, remember?) but when he saw me come out with Little Man and wait, he realized that he had cut the line and so wanted to apologize to me because he doesn't want to do things that would bother him if someone had done the same to him.  You know, that golden rule?

 

Really.  This truly happened.  A total stranger apologized for cutting me off.  Granted, we were in parked cars so it's not like we were passing through an intersection where there's no opportunity for apologies, but the fact that he took the time to apologize shattered some pre-conceived notions I had built about his character (he was driving a really big fancy SUV and  chatting away on his cell when I walked out of the school.  Yes, I'm guilty of stereotyping.  Who isn't?).

 

My faith in humanity is somewhat restored.  And it begs the question, when was the last time you took ownership of a wrong you committed, whether perceived or actual?  Is there something for which or someone to whom you need to apologize?  Is there someone or something you need to forgive?  We all do, don't we?  

 

Restore someone else's faith in humanity today.