Things That I Learned On My Way To Mall of America

When it comes to rides.... Brian has more guts than I do. Points to him for doing the crazy roller coaster with his almost grown-up kid.

That sometimes a ride isn't so much about the ride as it is about posing for the camera.

That standing around and watching someone draw a caricature of your kids only increases ones fondness for them.

That bringing a camera into a restaurant and using it while waiting for a table is wildly, unforgivingly embarrassing.

(and makes me feel really powerful....)

That I'm in the right profession.

I studied kids and parents everywhere, and although I know that it's unsophisticated to say so- My Goodness! Parents sure can be mean to their kids these days! I found myself feeling much more forgiving of my own irritability and shortcomings when I realized that I've NEVER called my child (or your child) STUPID, nor have I threatened to leave them behind in a foreign country for burning their muffin. (is it ok that I've fantasized about leaving children in foreign countries?? Please tell me that it is....) Nor have I yelled at my kid for slipping on a wet floor at a water park, or intentionally rammed the back of their ankles with my shopping cart when they weren't walking fast enough for my liking.

I practically feel like Mary Poppins.

That I'm running out of little kids of my own. And while listening to the wailing and tantruming of other people's kids made me relieved that mine were older; I felt a real sadness at the ending of an era. I've never been great with change, and I feel like I need a whole new set of skills for the upcoming ten years of parenting.

Just when I was getting a hang of the younger years.....

That IKEA has a really great chair. But that I prefer to spend my money $7.00 at a time... Over and over and over again.

Which is why I make a point of scouting out a few thrift shops wherever I am. Some of the greatest $4.99 skirts live there.

My husband also believes in the "more is more" philosophy. Which is why when he shops for green sauce at Target, the staff has to radio the guy in the Tabasco Vault to bring out the reserves.

He puts that sh*t on everything.

That maybe my church has talked up this whole IHOP movement just a lot. I didn't find it to be all that life-changing....

I learned that with a pocket full of change, you really can have it all.

On my way to Mall of America and back, I learned that "American breakfast" means all foods white, sweet, and packaged. I learned that there is an entire mall full of tiny sizes with entire families of obese people shopping in it. I learned that if you stay at a hotel whose biggest boast is: Free Internet!! it probably means that the wallpaper and the carpet don't match; the hallways aren't heated; and the early morning clientele lining up for the BLEACHED breakfast are heading out early to shoot something in a nearby wooded area.

I learned that kids grow up fast, hotel pillows don't feel like mama's pillows, and Famous Dave's makes a mean margarita. I learned that Fleet Mills Farms sells large bags of candy AND fishing licenses. They also sell nifty t-shirts that say things like: "Keep your guns in the right place-- YOUR HAND!" I learned that "all you can eat" buffet restaurants might not have been America's brightest idea. I learned that some people think that gravy goes with biscuits, and it's something you might want to eat with your morning coffee.

I learned that a road trip with my husband and my offspring was a really good idea.

And the best part of it is coming back home again.

Fast Thinking

So I was sitting around letting my thoughts lazily carve a path of their own.
I was thinking about how Readers Digest posts these heroic stories of someone at the very edge of imminent death, when some hero comes along and because of their "quick thinking", they move to immediate action and save the poor soul.

I was thinking about how I'll never be one of those people who are accused of being a "quick thinker". I spend time thinking, but none of it is particularly quick.

Round about that time, my sister stopped in. We were chatting about this and that when I commented that my throat had gotten itchy and I was feeling unusually tired. Thinking fast, I reached for the bottle of echinacea to save the day.

I had thrown the tablets to the back of my throat and gulped down some water when the thoughts caught up to me:

"I don't remember echinacea being that size. I remember them being green capsules; not small white tablets. Is this a different strength than what I'm used to?"

And that's when this bear of very little brain double-checked the bottle.

"Melatonin: sleep support"

Maybe after I wake up, my thoughts will become a little more speedy?
Maybe not.

Mommy?

Sometimes the best thing that can happen to my week is Monday.

"Good-bye, my dears. Have a good day at school...."

"Welcome toddlers- you who (usually) listen to me, rarely sneer, and whose needs seem so basic- so attainable."

Parenting rips my heart out sometimes.
I feel unqualified.
Inadequate.
Angry and sad.

These are really decent kids that I'm referring to. I've had it really good.

But they have direct access to my heart and all my triggers.
They yank and pull.

I'm left wondering what a truly great parental figure would do in each of my circumstances. I'm left wishing I didn't feel overwhelmed. Wishing I had at least half of the answers.

I know that this will pass and I'll be equally overwhelmed at my good fortune. My kids are so entwined in everything that matters that it's just logical that at times it just plain hurts.

Hogline

So, the husband and I were invited to a 40th birthday party at the local curling rink.

Now, I've never been accused of being particularly sporty, much less coordinated, or quick on my feet. But I must confess to being drawn inexplicably to this anomoly of an indoor outdoors when salty words like party, or hurry hard were dangled before my insatiable senses.



Besides- it's not as though I went in completely naive to curling.
I'd spent a lot of time and energy on it in the eighties, and although I'd since traded in my equipment for the flat iron, I hoped that I could still draw on former experience from my past life as a curler.

Not very big curls, but I couldn't be accused of not being willing to try.



Having resided in Manitoba for over forty years, I was also familiar with ice and cold.
Both indoor and outdoor. Why anyone would go out of their way to have a party that required its guests to drive in the frigid cold, minutes after a March storm, shivering violently in creaking cars to a building reminicient of the prairie farm's machine shop, only to exit the cold vehicle, traverse the icy parking lot, and enter a large building kept artificially cold and frozen.........

is well beyond my capacity to reason.

But, like I said. I believe in supporting a party where I can.



I was even familiar with some of the terminology. I'd grown up on a hog farm afterall, and while I'd never actually seen the weanlings stand in lines, I knew that they'd eventually land up that way at the packing plant.


What the Harley Davidson had to do with an icy indoor game I never could quite piece together.



But I was pretty sure the hogline had something to do with a pig roast, and having enjoyed seven years at the local summer fair, I knew about the wonders of pork on a bun. People flocked to that trough. Folks even drove out from the city to stand in line for that kind of hog, so I began to imagine that celebrating a birthday by standing in line for hog in an icy indoors might be just the sort of thing a Manitoban would dream up.


And I'm really good at eating with friends, so I might have gone into the whole thing just a tad over confident.

My curling partner was a spanish speaking woman who had recently emigrated from Columbia. She'd never been to a curling rink before and didn't even own a curling iron, as her hair naturally falls in ringlets. I confess that I might have sought her out intentionally, hoping that my comparison, I'd appear to be some sort of curling idiot savant.

Ten minutes in, and she's helping me.
In spanish.

I'm indoors.
My feet are frozen to the surface of the rink.
I'm taking desperate sips at my Bailey's laden coffee and glancing around hopefully for a birthday cake flambe on which to warm my blackening fingertips. All I'm seeing is a people group that I couldn't begin to psychologically profile, since they appear to be enjoying this charade involving ice and sticks.




If only they'd asked.
I could have helped them celebrate with a similar, but simpler compilation of ingredients, and half the jargon.

ice + sticks + coupla other liquids = party.

Happy birthday anyway.

Some Soon-To-Be-Famous Quotes

1."Aside from calling him fat and abnormal; I don't think I was condescending....." (errrrg... I may have overheard myself say those words....* grimace, smirk, blush*...)

2. "Sister- how do you play that game Paparazzi?"/ Sister: " What?!" / "I said- how do you play that game- Paparazzi?!" / Sister: " It's YAHTZEE." (overheard in my life as an advisor to pre-schoolers)

3. "okay, let's play eenie-meenie: " Cause shorty is a eenie meenie miney mo lova' " (see above.....)

Just When She Was Practically Middle-aged, She Asks Some Very Elementary Questions

I'd like to outgrow my need for approval.

I don't need it all the time, but like a little baby who likes her binky and boo-boo, I still want to soothe myself on some comforting approval whenever my soul gets sleepy or sad.

When I'm being obnoxious, I want people to understand that I'm just blowing my horn. When I'm sad and sentimental, I don't want to written off. When I rant and rave, I wish it was clear that I'm mostly about entertainment value. And I want to know that it's okay to be silly just for sheer, frivolous entertainment value.

I suppose it's human nature to want to be known. Not misunderstood or misconstrued. To be known in such a way that my heart is being heard. The kind of "known" that hears past the words.

But if I truly believed that it was okay to just be myself, would I worry about disapproval? What's at the core of not feeling accepted? A willingness to alter the self to come more in line with what people around me might like more? A deep-seated suspicion that I'm actually unacceptable?

Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? You'd think that by now we'd have this stuff figured out. We might have left insecurity behind, flushed down a high school toilet back in the days of feathered bangs. We'd be busy solving the real questions and problems in life.

But maybe you are- maybe you're never limping about, wallowing in self-doubt. Maybe you fill your days solving crises in Libya, leading seminars in well-being, and sipping green tea.

If so, would you mind scribbling some tips in the comments below? I promise not to judge you.

Snow Days

Are you looking for something positive and uplifting?
You're in the wrong place.

I don't like snow days. I don't like things switched up at the last moment (that moment being 6:00 AM, which is an awfully early time to start a morning; in my opinion).

I don't like the house filled up with children ranging in age from forty-four to eighteen months. Oh, I like the pre-schoolers, and I was expecting them. I just wasn't expecting all these other bodies (who share my surname, hhem, ahem) who happily lol around the place and mess up my routine.

Even though everything is going swimmingly, and there are no conflicts, and everyone is very happy (except me). I'm just bracing myself for disaster, which is ironic because the only person in a bad mood is me. So, not only do I not like snow days, I don't like my attitude either. Which makes me like snow days even less.

Now, go find a happy blog.

The Funny Thing about Time

I've spent a lot of time this winter being bored.
Really bored.
I've had enough time to do all the necessary things. Enough time for the laundry, the dishes, the paperwork, and all the other glamorous things that life as a grown-up entails.

But I've noticed that I'm just really not keeping up anyway.

A few weeks ago for some mysterious reason, I got re-inspired to pick up the darfur project thread. I've found time to sew, to post, to mail, and to design.

And you know what? I have more energy for the vacuum now.

That's the funny thing about time. The more you have; the more you dawdle. Apply some pressure, and you become a lot more efficient.

Feels good.

Fridays Are...

.... the day I determine to find the original surfaces. A counter that is utterly bare. No backpacks, muffins, valentines, sheets to sign, novels, cameras, or lego scraps.
A table. Laying in wait and expectation.



This eases the transition into noticing the beautiful corners of my world. The tiny vignettes, the ordinary joys, the delightful details.

And the knowledge that the weekend has indeed arrived.

All In A Day's Work

And how was YOUR day at the office?!

That Valentine Guy Was Some Kind of a Saint!

It's no wonder a whole day got set aside to celebrate Valentine's day. Just observe its powers: Little brother writes love notes for big sisters.

Daytime kid makes out her very own valentine cards, complete with phonetic spelling.

Packing school snacks is easy, since heart shapes seem the only applicable choice.

And for this one special day in February, craft time is snack time!

Approaching Change With Kindness

I've been happy at 150 lb. I've been terrified at 150 lb. I've been happy at 127. I've been terrified at 127. I've gone into the hospital nine months pregnant at 154. I've lived unpregnant and happy at 154.

My size doesn't actually define my level of satisfaction.
But my state of mind most certainly does.
My size doesn't entirely determine how confident/comfortable/attractive I feel when choosing clothing. In the days when I was relatively thin but living in constant fear of fat, the "thinness factor" brought very limited amounts of happy into my life. Then there were times when I lived in a thin body without the battle- a relatively effortless way of enjoying food and life without fear or the pathology of an erratic bathroom scale. I enjoyed being thin at that time of life. Wearing clothing was easy and effortless, body parts didn't jiggle and sag so much, and bathing suits were a little less horrifying.

In the last ten years or so, I haven't exactly been that kind of thin. But I've also been pretty happy. I don't struggle pathologically with food or body image. I don't torture and torment myself with inhumane methods of weight reduction. I don't hate and shame myself endlessly. I do find myself often yearning for "thin" (the way I was) but I'm far enough along in my psychological development to know that if getting to thin costs me all my kindness and happiness, it's an exercise in futility. A ridiculous waste of time.

But as the years continue to speed by, I never stop desiring change. I'd like to be in better shape. I'd like to weigh less than I currently do. I know it won't be my magic bullet secret to eternal happiness, and I'm wary of causing myself stress or causing some form of self-hatred to flourish.

So, I wonder. Isn't it a good idea to pursue change with kindness? And is anyone interested in joining me? My intentions are to pursue change slowly, kindly, and with acute attention given to the thoughts and feelings that arise. There is no "winning" and no "losing". Only the possibility of making more peace with one's body; where it is headed; and how we are getting there.

My Kindness Approach looks a little like this:

• exercise is good for your body, your brain, and your mental health. However. If you hate the gym, don't join one. Engage in something that brings you some kind of joy or pleasure. Think "sustainable".
• Be mindful of what you put in your mouth. Eating is one of life's greatest pleasures, and we get to do it every day! Mindless eating is a coping mechanism that deserves your undivided attention. Geneen Roth recommends eating while sitting down in as pleasant a setting as possible, without noisey distractions (tv, etc). She recommends a whole lot of other things, and if you struggle with the mental issues of weight obsession, DO NOT PASS GO - get yourself her books. They are worth it.
• Do not engage in dialogue about how much you suck; how much you hate any of your body parts; or how you have no willpower. That's not kind. Just pay attention, and see what your own body has to teach you.
• Support one another with the understanding of the point above. I've hesitated to write about this because there's nothing more destructive than a bunch of women clucking and clacking about their levels of fatness. Seriously people. Use your energy for something more productive!!

There's more. But that's a start.

I'm thinking about blogging about this journey on a private blog page. It's really personal and makes me feel brutally vulnerable when I speak of my lifelong journey, making peace with this body I've been given. I'm happy to share, but not with; like.... the whole world. Or the guy next door. So, if this appeals to you, give me a clue. You can e-mail me (if you want to retain your privacy) at re-joyce@live.ca. You can leave me a comment. You can send me a top secret message by courrier if you're so inclined.

Meanwhile, I'm going outside for a walk. It's incredibly gorgeous out, it's Sunday, and walks make me happy(er).

Be happy, life is short.

High Aspirations

The Brother:

"Joyce? Can I be two things when I grow up?"

"Sure- like, you could be a firefighter AND a nurse".

"Because I'm not sure what to choose. I want to be a cool car driver AND a wild guy."

"Oh! awesome. Well, what you could do is be a cool driver like; Monday through friday and then on Saturday and Sunday you could go into the wild!"


The Sister:
"Joyce- I'm going to be Cinderella AND Belle."

The Thing(s) About Kids

• Kids appear to want sets of toys. They appear to want toys in general.

But what kids want is small coloured objects of varying sizes and shapes to throw onto the floor. They need something to trip over, and crush as they run in endless circles around the staircase. These floor-bound objects, once in their desired positions on the floor, release childrens' ability to scream and exert excessive amounts of energy.

• Kids appear to want to eat. They appear to be hungry and thirsty most of the time.

But what kids want is permission to sit at the table and reject food. They want to be assigned chairs which they then squirm in and say; "Joycie.... tan I go now?" They also want a platform within which to say; "I don't like/want/need that". While they are busily rejecting or dawdling over their mid-day meal, it's not at all uncommon for someone to ask the all important and pertinent question; "Doycie... when it snack time?"

• Kids appear to learn the language that is spoken in their home/dayhome environment.

But kids come up with their own stuff, entirely. For example, just a few days ago, I heard a long, languishing tale about a "fodda dodda baw". I nodded and smiled at what I hoped were appropriate intervals, but I hadn't the foggiest notion what the topic of our conversation might be. I asked; "What do you do with a fodda dodda baw?" and was met with the type of blank stare reserved for the impossibly stupid. Then, by sheer luck, I received a helpful clue. Her brother would not be invited to share in the fodda dodda baw.

Then the lightbulb began to flicker: Father/Daughter Ball!!

Sometimes children do authentically learn the language spoken by their caregivers. This is usually a good thing, except when caring for a toddler whose first language is Spanish ; second language is Portugese; and eventually whose third language will become English. I nodded and smiled and "hmmmmm..-ed" so much in those two weeks that I began to appropriate a bobble head toy.

• Children appear to be charming and delightful company.

And they really are.

Most of the time.

*Sigh*...........

DARNIT!!!

Not Of This World

It had vexed her for much of her lifetime: Why did she feel so "not of this world"? Why did she not identify more closely with her peers? Why did her thoughts and ambitions always seem so far fetched?

She decided to become more observant.
At the very next meeting of the relatives, she tapped into a higher sense of awareness and really looked at the humans she called her forefathers.




And in an instant, it all became so clear.