Leaf Me Alone

Every single one is different. Unique. Amazing. Beautiful.  How many times have you stopped to admire fallen leaves on the ground? I usually just step on them, step over them, peel them from my shoe or shake one off that sticks to my sock.  A nuisance rather something to be admired. Something to hold onto. Something to love.

I love the fall leaves. Each of the orange, yellow, bright green, red and sometimes flame colored leaves. I pause when I am on walks so I can gaze at them and take pictures of the trees.  I pull my car over to admire trees as they change color when I drive down the hill in Carver. I holler at the kids to stop what they are doing when we are together in the car. I want them to be able to behold the beauty of the changing leaves which has captured my eye.

When I was a teenager, there was a beautiful wildlife area one town over. I would go there with friends or even a date and take in the beauty that surrounded. I loved one particular area where there was a slight elevation with huge hundred year old pine trees on the left and gorgeous trees with a tapestry of colors on the right.  During one such adventure, I remember stopping the second I got out of the car.  I was in awe. I couldn't even step forward. With mouth agape, I was transfixed on the beauty of nature that stood before me.  My friend turned, and watched me, smiling. He knew. He knew I would react his way. He knew I would appreciate this spectacle and that is why he brought me there.

I am the one that picks up leaves. I am one that carries them with me. I am one that dries them in the sun and places them in the back of thick poetry books and spiral bound hard cover notebooks filled with short stories.  I am the one that wants to preserve the beauty.  I am one that wants my eyes to find the beauty in a leaf in the dead of winter. When the snow is piled high, when it is dirty from car exhaust and the frigid temperatures make me impatient for spring. I am the one who can recall the brisk wind and the sound it makes as I walk down the hill toward the park.  I am the one who wants to remember the beauty before it is soon gone.

This winter, if I hand you a bouquet of leaves, I am fully aware that it is an nontraditional offering.  But those leaves, those colors, that gift of beauty is the best gift that I can offer. I have dried them, pressed them, arranged them. Now given to you as a gift that you can enjoy hopefully as much as I do. 

Kind

You have to make a choice. A choice to be kind. Each and every day. A choice to be kind to those who may not ever have been kind to you.  A choice to be kind to those that seem to go out of their way to hurt you. A choice to be kind when all you know is that kindness will never be extend to you.

My mom was powerhouse force to be reckoned with. I like to joke that she was me X 10. And that is lot!  She loved people, loved talking, loved putzing around, loved good deals and loved to serve others.  She loved life.  When someone lives their life in such a manner, where they are always are smiling, always have a story to tell, always want to do new things and explore, it can be too much. Too much to take in and deal with.  Because of my mom's larger than life personality, other people often just felt overwhelmed. When they were overwhelmed, they would push her away, create distance and even made fun of her behind her back.  I saw this. I witnessed this and was making mental notes. 

These mental notes that I kept didn't include all the ways I thought my mom should change.  They included all the ways to be kind to other people when they tend to be rude and judge. My mother never needed to make any changes.  The other people needed to change how they treated people.  Change how they chose to be so petty and judgmental and rude to my mom who did nothing other than love people.

My mom and I once had a conversation late in her life about what it felt like to have people believe she was a piece of work.  She smiled and met my eye, "Kace, (she always called me Kace) I don't often think about it. I know there are people in this world that were meant to be my friend, and that there are people that are not.  But I also know that is okay.  I don't need to be friends with everyone.  But I do need to be kind to everyone."

That simple statement. I do need to be kind to everyone. Kind. Everyone.  No matter what the other person does or says, be kind.  Choose to be kind and love other people.  Because you will never regret being kind.

Jouska

JOUSKA

The hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head. 

It happened again.  I experienced jouska.  I thought about it over and over, played out each scenario and returned to it last night just as I tried to sleep.  To be honest, I have had this hypothetical conversation play out hundreds of times in my head over my entire adult life. 

I said something. I did something. I hurt someone. I was hurt. No matter the reason, the conversation has stuck with me.  Stuck to my heart and my mind as if it is hanging on for dear life.  I have tried to shake the memory loose time and time again, but to no avail. 

I crawl into bed, sure that this is the night my brain will relax and I will fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.  That is never the case. Something about being horizontal enables every thought, every pain, every heart hurt, every memory to rush over me. 

I wish I had said something differently. I wish I didn't do it like that. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Why am I still so hurt myself? All that being said,  I may be hurting my self more than anyone, letting this unproductive hypothetical conversation take up residence in my mind. 

More often than not,  the conversation that I have refused to let go of is only remembered by me.  In all actuality, I am judging myself for my own words and actions. I wanted it to play out differently.  So my feeble attempt at making amends, I try to reformat it, rearrange and change what happened only to find that it will not work out that way. What is done is done. 

I apparently fear judgement. That someone has looked down on me.  Chances are, they have long forgotten this minuscule conversation, this molehill that I have made into such a mountain.  They see it as a non event, where I feel that I have made it the center, the most important, the focal point. 

It doesn't have to be. It doesn't have to be as important as I have made it. It doesn't have to be my go to jouska. 

Everyone does things and says things they wish they had not. This is mine.  Maybe I should extend myself a little more grace. Because others have always done so, why do I hold myself to such an expectation of perfection? I will not always do what I should. I will not always be as articulate as I wish I was. But today, with a little bit of Grace, and whole lotta Jesus,  I am dismissing this jouska. No longer a go to thought. No longer a rabbit hole of regret.  It is done. It is over. Because there are bigger and better things that my mind  can move on towards. Real life amazing conversations to had.  Words expressed and encouragement to be given.  

How is it possible that she is 12?

This child for whom I prayed won't listen. She is insistent to grow up. I keep telling her to slow down, and she thinks I am joking. I have two children. She is my baby.  And today, my baby is 12.

How is this happening?  I think of the word children or kids, and I think of my sweet itty bits. I don't think of the sassafras child you see above and or the 15 year old gentle giant that towers over me.  I think of buckling them into car seats. I think of bottle after bottle. I think of diaper after diaper.  But I also think about praying. All of the times Josh and I prayed for children.

I was married young, the day before I turned 20. We thought we were young and would wait a few years before having kids.  We waited and then when we were ready to have kids, it didn't happen. And it didn't happen. And it didn't happen. Infertility caught me off guard.  I came from a family where carrying and having babies was a natural beautiful thing. I had never known anyone to struggle in this area. But struggle we did.

We were told that IVF would be the way to go, and that we then only had a 10 to 15% chance of getting pregnant. We never even got that far. Our doctor grinned ear to ear when I told him I was pregnant, and he said he loved it when his patients proved him wrong.  We were elated to be parents. Zach was the first child we prayed for.

We knew we had everything stacked against us, but then 3 1/2 years later, we were blessed with Miss Lily. Oh, how we prayed for her. I so desperately wanted to have two children.  God met me where I was at.  Broken, so very hurt and desiring a child in my arms.  I was thrilled when we had Lily as I felt our family was complete.

So here is the thing they don't tell you. Those babies grow up.  Into amazing little humans, and then into opinionated pre-teens and then into teenagers.  They also don't seem to mind when they go from children's clothing to adult clothing overnight. Or when they buy women's size 8 tennis shoes instead of trying to find cute fur lined booties like they always have.  I want those cute little rainbow and butterfly tee shirts. I want three pairs of fur lined baby uggs in the back hallway. 

But do you know what excites me?  This child Lily is growing into. This young woman who loves Jesus and telling others about Him. This amazing chidult (person stuck between being a child and an adult) who sees each new day as an adventure. This chidult who wants to make a change and see a better world.  She probably will be President or lead a small gang of snarky women. Either way, my heart will beam. My heart will overflow.  Because God deemed me fit and able to parent this little sprite. He said, that is the mom, that will be the one that will raise Miss Thing. She will be on her knees praying more than standing, but she is the one. And for that gift, I am eternally thankful and grateful.

Do You Wanna Know What I Regret?

Last night, I had a small speaking engagement. There were other authors, quite a few poets and a great interactive listening audience.  I shared a funny Lily story before reading my second piece.  I talked about how my poem called Regrets Nothing was included in the 2018 Arts Consortium Poetry Contest and in July, I brought Lily to Parley Lake for the contest winners poetry reading during ArtStock.

Reading a piece like Regrets Nothing is no easy feat. It covers life experiences, some that still sting,  but not one of them regretted.

I told the story that when I was at Parley, I finished, walked off the stage and back to where Lily was sitting.  She leans over smirking, wiping sweat from her brow, and quips, "Do you wanna know what I regret? I regret coming here on the this hot day!" 

This child. She is ridiculously amazing. I love her spunky nature and her silliness.  She was right.  The day was so hot, we were both overdressed and needed the breeze to pick up. We both enjoyed our time together that day, but the heat was so unnecessary.

Rather than reading through the poem Regrets Nothing again last night, I talked about how sometimes when I write something, I believe it is true. At least when I write it. I then explained that when I write, sometimes the words I commit to paper then make a liar out of me.  I had this happen when I wrote the piece ALLTHERAGE.   I discovered that there were thoughts, feelings, and emotions that I had been holding on to and hadn't processed.  I hadn't experienced them fully. More so just bottled them up and stifled them. Holding on to the rage was something I regretted.

I spoke of how I discovered that it wasn't just rage that I was holding onto, but it was also, fear, jealousy and actual regret.
I then shared the following piece.

ALLTHERAGE

FULLOFIT
ME
IAMFULLOFIT

RAGETHATIS

IDIDNOTKNOW

UNTILHESAID

YOUAREFULLOFIT

FROMHEADTOTOE
FULLOFFEAR

FULLOFREGRET
FULLOFJEALOUSY
FULLOFRAGE

FULLOFIT

ME

NOTPOPULAR
NOTSOMETHINGCOOL

NOTTHEINCROWD
JUSTTHEPOSSESSOR

IKEEPITALL
ALLTHERAGE
IAMFULLOFIT

IAMGIVINGITBACK
IDONOTWANTIT
RAGEISNOTFORME
NOTNEEDED
DOESNOTHINGFORME
MAKESMESICK
ADDSLINESTOMYEYES

ALLTHATRAGE
GIFTEDTOME
FORTHEASKING
ALLTHATRAGE
COULDHAVERUINEDME
RIDDINGMYSELFTODAY

NOLONGERFULLOFIT

I had realized then when driving home last night that jealousy is still there. Jealousy of what someone has that I do not. What purpose does it serve for me to hold onto this? It only hurts me.

I will talk to Lily again tonight when I pick her from play practice. Share with her about the laughs I received when retelling her funny quip she made. I will also share with her about that jealousy that I am working on letting go. How I will focus on every day joy, contentment and being more present rather than always making hindsight observations.

Sometimes I feel she completely understands what I am talking about. Other times, she hears me, thinks about it a bit, but then believes it to the another random meandering thought I have shared with her. Either way, I have shared a part of me with her. It isn't necessarily a great part, a part I want others to see, but it is true, it is real, and it is something that I am working through. In my openness and my attempt to be honest with her, hopefully she will want to do the same. To be open and honest with her mom. Even when it is uncomfortable and awkward.

Spirit Week-Chanhassen High School Knows What They Are Doing

I can't possibly be the only parent who hates Spirit Week. At least I thought I hated Spirit Week.  Spirit Week usually falls in line with Homecoming each fall. And when both Zach and Lily were in Elementary School, I hated it.  My son could care less, but Lily, well, Lily is all about fully participating in everything. So, I have my work cut out with that one.

During Spirit week, each day has a theme. A theme. Not normal stuff. Bizarre stuff.  Let me break it down for you.

We are not hunters. No I will not go to Mills Fleet Farm to buy a $36 shirt my daughter will never wear again so that she can participate in Camouflage Day.

For the love of all things Holy. My kid doesn't want to wear anything other than shorts and tee shirts on a good day. My kid is going to flat out refuse to dress as their favorite movie character or tv show character. Plus, if my kid shows up as Steve from Blue's Clues,  he will be the laughing stock of the school.


Nope. I will not make my child dress in Hawaiian prints.  Those things are uggs and if I am not ever doing it, I won't make my kid do it.

Trendy Thursday? What exactly is Trendy Thursday?  My view of Trendy is a Cure tee shirt and leopard print leggings, rolled or pinned jeans, with huge curls and lots of aqua net hair spray.  My kid doesn't want my input on this. Trust Me.

Famous Friday? For the love. Lily thinks she has her own youtube channel because she films diy videos on the ipad. Let me spell it out for you. She thinks she is famous because she makes videos on a ipad that doesn't have internet access. No one is posting the videos.  She would dress up as herself on Famous Friday and get sassy when you asked her who she was!

So Chanhassen High School, I salute you. You have made Spirit Week something Zach enjoys and will actually participate in. 

Monday-Comfy Day
Let's just face it. This is every day.

Tuesday-Patriotic Day
Super easy. Zach's favorite color is red and he always wears blue jeans.

Wednesday-Jersey Day
Zach solely supports the Vikings and Twins franchises with the amount of trademarked clothing he owns.

Thursday-Future Career Day
Zach has this one in the bag.  He is a natural born artist. The dude will carry a pack of colored markers and a sharpie. Done.

Friday- STORM Day
Zach has refused to wear his Chanhassen STORM sweatshirt all year because he is saving it for this one day. He is so excited to wear his new sweatshirt. Friday can not arrive soon enough!

As you can see, Chanhassen High has had Mercy on parents yet again. No midnight screaming fits of laundry that needs to be washed. No mental breakdowns in Fleet Farm.  Just wear the clothing you already have. And have fun with it!

However, I will have to keep you posted on Lily's school.  And yes, I will resist purchasing camouflage from now until the end of time.

Dealership Tea

 I was meant to enjoy a cup of Good Earth Wild Chaild Tea this morning.  My Monday client is a bit under the weather so we will reschedule for later in the week.  My vehicle has a broken part by the drivers side door, and two other things that are on the fritz so my husband was kind enough to call in and get an appointment for me at the Nissan dealership in Eden Prairie today at 2 pm. However, when I realized I wouldn't be going to work today, I quickly changed the appointment to 8:45 am and raced to Eden Prairie. 

I should mention that this has to be done today. Actually 3 minor issues, but I have no more than 25 miles left on the 36k warranty. SO here I am. Now at nine am on a Monday morning.  Enjoying my tea. It is so good. Why don't I drink this kind more often? So good. There are goodies and beverages galore. All free!  I am fully aware that everyone else knows these things, but I am pretty much a kept woman. I never have to bring my car in even for an oil change.  I can count on two hands the amount of times I have had to bring a vehicle in for anything at all. I remember feeling awkward having to ask for help when I was in my late 20's one time and couldn't figure out how to work a specific gas pump.  My husband has always taken care of everything for me.  That includes cars, cell phones, computers, anything technology related. I love it, thank him profusely and will never take this for granted.

Of all the people in the waiting room, pardon me, the customer lounge, I am only one of two women. The rest are men, some with frustrated looks on their face, reading the paper and even watching Kelly Ripa and Ryan Seacrest on one of the five large screen tv's.  Two of gentlemen are working on laptops and feverishly typing away.  The one other woman and I shared a laugh when we both went in search of the Nissan Dealership Guest wifi password, which is of course, wait for it, internet. She is reading and making notes in some sort of manual and answering text messages at the speed of light. (Is it supposed to be the speed of sound? I don't know.)

Me?  I am blogging, answering emails and text messages, and admiring the huge magazine selection.  Apparently Ben Affleck is now 46 and dumped his 22 year old girlfriend.   I used to care about these types of things.  Now, I only care when I am sitting in Nissan Dealership waiting rooms, I mean customer lounges.

Today is the first day of October, and I am planning on participating in #Blogtober. #Blogtober is where a blogger blogs every day for the month of October.  Usually my stories are about 1500 to 2500 words. These blogs this month will be shorter, usually snippets of the day, and glimpses of what daily life looks like. I can guarantee that it will include funny things my children say, conversations overheard, and observations of how amazing this world really is.  Why does this matter? It doesn't. I am getting in the habit of writing every day.

I have finished writing my first book and am currently working on editing and formatting. I am behind and I am only a month into it.  I have about 100/300 pages edited and formatted.  I need to hunker down and work this month as October 31 was my goal to have all of the first edits and formatting complete. I will then spend the month of November on 2nd edits. And the month of December on final edits.  I am excited, nervous and praying that I can get back on schedule soon. My goal is to edit and format 50-65 pages in the next week. Also, Zach and I are working on a children's book told from his perspective about being a teenager with Autism.  It is written in simple short sentence statements and Zach is in charge of the illustrations.  We are at a standstill as Zach doesn't like to be told what to draw. So I have to wait for him to be highly motivated and cooperative. I don't think he totally understands what we are working on, but I can't wait to show him a mock up when we get closer to completion. I pray he will love it and be proud of his hard work. I know I sure am.

So this month of October, I will continue to point out my love for all things fall, continue to enjoy tea and coffee by the pot full and attempt to find the perfect apple orchard and pumpkin patch. I will write and edit until my fingers fall off and I will continue to giggle at all of the goofy things my daughter shares with me.

This morning? Lily asked if I could send 20 bucks with her to school for dinner on Friday. What? She wants 20 bucks for dinner, maybe 10 so that she doesn't have to worry about coming home in between school and her 5:30 call time.  Um. I then told her dinner wasn't being served, she would coming home on the bus after school, relaxing, eating dinner at home and returning for her call time.  She then said, "Well, maybe you could send 10 bucks with me anyway, just in case."  #icanteven

Excuse me. My car isn't finished yet, but I need another cup of tea.  :)