Cuddling my six-year old daughter last week, she confided her daycare woes of two girls who won't play with her despite repeated "Play with Me!" requests and offputting following them to get their time and attention. While my heart broke and Mama Bear instincts roared, thoughtfulness and self-control took over when I said, "You can't make people play with you."
Rolling easily off my tongue, I reflected on my own painstaking rolling over, chasing and trying too hard that preceded my quick wisdom - a long past adolescence Mom who had been too eager to please. Perhaps, my simple words could save her from doing backflips, going along, feeling the pressure to be "on" or wearing just the right outfit and push-up bra - exhausting or desperate (and sometimes fun and perfectly okay Wonderbra maker) attempts to secure acceptance that can only come from within. In the meantime, my girl would go to daycare on Monday equipped with resources to rival crayons, puzzles and stickers. Selfishly, I would have peace for a day as she builds her character, one Lego at a time.
While maturity (and maybe the law and mental insituations) poises us beyond "Play with Me!" demands, we still may try to force relationships with behaviors that temporarily please but only elicit playing along. You can only truly play with someone when you are comfortable in your own skin, and when you both choose to do so. And if someone doesn't choose to play with you, it becomes more their loss than yours when you accept yourself. You also become okay playing on your own (p.s., and that's also when people want to play with you!).
- How have you tried to make someone play with you?
- How can you please and accept yourself?
Thanks to Barbie Squinkies (12 in a pack!)! They will temporarily entertain my daughter while life gently thickens her skin and deepens her heart.
I spent Sunday afternoon finding the perfect spot to plant my bulbs. The seeds of this tradition were planted three years ago when my Mom asked, "Do you want me to order you bulbs this year? You plant them before the frost, and they are the first sign of spring after a cold winter."
My Mom has a proven track record of anticipating my needs, slipping me $20 for gas, making the perfect PB & J and surprising me with a new zipper purse that finishes rather than frazzles me like the snapping bag that exposed my chaotic life and array of tampons. So, while I agreed in a sentimental vein, I was adverse to the 4-month interval between bulb and bloom that challenged my impulsivity, instant gratification and "I want it now!" Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka mentality. This same mindset brings me to the 7-11 for a pint of Ben and Jerry Cookie Dough Icecream after a bad day.
The bulbs are well-worth the seasonal affective disorder wait. The vibrant pink, orange and yellow daffodils, tulips and amaryllis decorate my yard and lift my spirits when spring arrives. They prove undaunted by millions of maple leaves, acorns, squirrels and snowflakes and their initial lengthy stay in the trunk of my car after I failed to give them due credit for their full potential outside of their cardboard shipping package.
I thoughtfully plant and fertilize my promise of spring each year. I dig past established tree roots and bend cheap trowels to carefully nestle them for their showcase and surprise. They will break through brilliantly and heroically, when I least expect it.
The flowers are a fertile, colorful reminder of the value and discipline of the wait. This contradicts alluring quick fixes that promise instant gratification and a hole (or cottage cheeselike cellulite in the case of the repeated Ben and Jerry's) dug with little promise of growth. They are the vision realized by doing (and digging) what I can and trusting that life will unfold, and in this case, blossom, when I do my part, wait and let go.
- Where do you need to plant seeds (or bulbs) and practice patience?
- Where might discipline help you to resist immediate gratification and cultivate fertile soil that promises growth (and breathtaking flowers)?
Thanks Mom and John Scheepers, Inc. I will plant my 25 Single Finest Mix this weekend.
Every seemingly together life has its "behind the scenes" and mine, as the weather gets colder, happens to be spider crickets. They live in the Cricket Metropolis crawl space under the house, finding their way into our home through the pipes of my bathtub, the scene of relaxing bubble baths, Chardonnay and serenity after a long day. More recently, I have been derailed in my already spotty evening routine by the shrill screams of my daughter shrieking "SPIDER CRICKET!" followed by a leap to a counter to escape the far cry from Jiminy she has come to know through our nostalgic Pinocchio watching. "Mommy will take care of it, " I confidently assure her, despite flashbacks of an early childhood camping trip trauma and sleeping bag fraught with millions of insects "snug as a bug" and tucked in for the night. I heroically and humanely whisk the gittering, giant, pre-historic bug back to the great outdoors scooping and throwing him like a pair of unlucky dice. He is one of an unwelcome pack, perhaps a close-knit, extended cricket family paying a visit. I make my way back to my $5.00 rubber bathtub stopper to put an end to this cricket hot spot for the night.
The crickets are a mainstay in our life this time of year, similar to fragrant fall candles whose pumpkin aroma fills our home. I am careful to warn cable guys and electricians who may venture under the house, an appropriate caution after one banged his head several times, jumping higher that the crickets who greeted him - and likely quitting his new job shortly thereafter. I whip open the shower curtain each morning, having shaken a few loose from my Bath and Body Works decorative liner last year. I go about my day and my shower, stopper unstopped and confident in their retreat so the water can drain.
Peaceful, polished and poised, we start our day. Pretty lipstick and lash lengthening mascara, I am all buttoned up. Sugar plums dancing in my daughter's head, I tiptoe through the morning routine. As the temperature drops and the day unfolds, we will await and embrace the hopping reminder that despite careful appearances, we all have our spider crickets.
- What lies behind the scenes in your life?
- How can you embrace and find humor and humanity in it?
Dedicated to my sister, Kathy, who shared the Rehoboth Bay childhood camping trauma and bristles around bugs to this day.
My Mom always says "Something must be going on in your life. You cut (or colored or permed) your hair!" when I make my entrance with sheered, frizzed or out-of-the-box colored hair gone wrong based on my Zen belief that the good life follows good hair. My recent cut, unprompted by life circumstances outside of wiry, poky, gray, mid-forties hair, set a new trend by foreshadowing the unraveling and cutting short of my 7-month relationship when my BF admitted that my now "short hair is something he overlooks about me." I self-consciously pushed what was left of my impulsive decision behind my ears, asserted that men would like gorillas if they had long hair and jokingly donned a brunette ponytail hairpiece that barely gripped my short layers.
Thankfully, my new BF and I shifted from superficial locks to substantive digs when he began detailing his plan to convert the back of his 18-wheeler into a home - Da Box, as he called it - when his living situation unravelled. While we bellylaughed and rapped over Da Box (e.g., "KiDB - K. in Da Box - went to McD"), my short hair bristled as my "stable but not egotistical" BF predicted the beginning of the end for us and planned innovative ways to cut windows in Da Box to see Da sun. I narrowly focused on what I would tell my friends as he tried to convince me with Youtube videos of Cargo Container Living and unsuccessfully grip my hair in throws of passion.
Anxiety, red flags and hair growing disproportionately, we tried to make Da Box and relationship work. Unsuccessfully, or more likely successfully, we took a needed step back to focus on ourselves rather than place the onus on the other to paint a white picket fence, flowing, long hair pretty picture of our lives. I will regroup and realize where I need growth beyond my "do," hopefully thinking out of "da box" and learning from my contributions to our demise.
- What do you need to overlook and accept about others in your life?
- What do your preferences, good or bad, say about you (e.g., in my case, I am more shallow than I thought)?
- What matters so deeply that you need to act and honor the values that are dear to you? While your answers may mean hard truths, tough decisions, bit lips, loss, or painful growth, your behavior, should you accept the challenge, will allow you to love and embrace others and/or yourself more deeply and unconditionally.
P.S. I did not confer with KiDB in my one-sided interpretation of our relationship. So, like a vulnerable Rapunzel without her hair, I will accept perception as reality rather than seek candid feedback about my many faults yet. Thanks KiDB for the lessons - and much success! I will look for you on HGTV and think fondly of the person who makes crazy seem normal and normal seem crazy! I am short-haired and likely short-sided!
