Push Thru It! The Last Bite

The oozing lava from the chocolate cake slowed to a halt with one final bite lingering from the feeding frenzy of four forks.  Surely, were we not stunned by the sugar or excitement beckoning us from outside the mountaintop bistro where my dear friend and our daughters would ski into the new year.  Nor, were we simultaneously full from the rich, creamy  taste.  We were stopped by the unspoken etiquette of emptying the plate of its last tasty morsel, leaving three still-watering mouths.                           

 The edible centerpiece presented an opportunity to share a dollop of wisdom from a boyfriend long ago, who meticulously scraped and sculpted the remains of delightful dishes to share them with me.  "Always choose friends who will give you the last bite," I told our youngsters, prone to tear off Barbie's legs so both could play with her.   I had ingested and savored his generosity since I behaved more like a seagull diving for the last french fry on a vacated beach. 

Giving the last bite is a decision to loosen a reluctant grip to unselfishly look out for someone else.   It extends beyond bite-size sacrifices of molten chocolate to daily decisions to make others' lives better.  It is letting someone ahead of you in line when you are running late or setting aside your pride to say you are sorry.  It is keeping Barbie intact and giving a friend the first turn. It is tickling my daughter's back when sleeping is all I want to do.  Choosing friends who will give you the last bite starts with your willingness to do the same.  

• Do you give or take the last bite?   

Take the Last Bite Challenge!  Order your favorite dessert (or other guilty pleasure) and offer someone the last bite.  You will be the first to feel full.  And, that takes the cake! 

P.S. On my birthday, I always eat the last bite of my cherished lemon meringue pie.   In life, there is always a balance of give and take, or you would never get a bite!     

Dedicated to my daughter who wrapped 3 dollar bills and a gold dollar and gave them to me for Christmas.  Her face beamed when she knew she had given from deep within her heart.  And, yes, we were both full.         

            

 

     





 

Push Thru It! Breathing Room

Sitting in my tight jeans overflowing with a muffin top of red and green sprinkled holiday cookies and coffee cake, I am squeezed beyond the gripping, hustle bustle of the season, heading for a crash landing into my next sugar-free, mortgage-accelerated, romance-filled, mom-of-the-year chapter of New Year's resolutions. 

I have positioned myself with a Zen book of mindfulness, aware that I am breathing in and breathing out while hearing blasting horns of holiday wrap-up and fumbling for receipts to return ill-fated gifts and bits of sanity.  I am clearing my plate, cleaning my slate, and picking up fallen pine and pieces from a decorated house and life that resemble a Norman Rockwell painting from a fingerprint-smudged window.  I am decluttering my breathing room that has been trashed by a flash mob of stress.        

Breathing room is the gentle space in the home of realistic expectations, life made easier, flexibility, faith and positivity.  Its recent guests have included a neighbor who lifted my fallen Christmas tree and child's spirits; my mother's touch; and, Amazon Prime two-day free shipping.  Gratefulness, peace and joy have also lingered in their soft, fluffy slippers.         

This year, I will paint my breathing room lavender.  I will ensure it is fully furnished.  I will prop my feet up in its easy chair.   I will invite gratefulness, peace and joy for a longer stay.  I will breathe.             

• Where do you need breathing room in your life? 
• What would fill your breathing room? 
• Who or what gives you breathing room?

                  
P.S. Dedicated to my Mom, whose parting gift of home-made turkey soup this week will save me money and anguish at the grocery store perplexed by what to eat for dinner.  It might even help me to better fit into my pants.          

Push Thru It! Grace and Grit

My friend's face showed grace, vulnerable and childlike, as she wiped away a stream of tears, poised to eulogize her 65-year old Dad, who had been killed in a car accident.  "My Dad raised me to have a balance of grace and grit," she shared.  Her stature and presence revealed grit as she spoke with clarity and fortitude as the only daughter of a dearly loved man, whom she proudly called her father.  

My first experience of her grit was when she chastened me for ruminating thoughts following a breakup.  "Shake it off and keep on moving," she declared in passing as she dusted her shoulder of broken relationships and emotional pains which may have slowed her.  Tragically, now, she would forever be shaken and moved to reflect upon the tapestry her father had woven to shape the woman she is today.   

Grace - Seemingly effortless beauty or charm of movement, form, or proportion
Grit - indomitable courage, toughness, or resolution

Grace and grit are the heroes of life's challenges.  Grace is the chin-up propeller for a life of integrity, and grit is the hunker-down fuel to navigate rugged terrains. They are ingredients that make the choice to rise above fiercely determined when it would be easiest to shrink and fold.   Still dizzied by an amusement park visit with my daughter, I reflect on the push and pull of our hands towards the array of colorful rides that promised to soothe or jolt us.  If grace is the polished, steady ride on the cascading merry-go-round at the carnival of life, grit is the sweaty-palmed return to the back of the line for the harrowing rollercoaster of ups and downs, twists and turns, slow approaches and uncertain drops (Okay, so I see why my daughter wouldn't go on the rollercoaster!).  Grace helps you to let go and rise  gently to the occasion; grit helps you to hold on with vigor and conviction.   

• Where is grace important in your life?
• Where do you need grit? 

Dedicated to Dads who raise daughters with grace and grit and daughters who honor them by touching others with their spirit.          

Push Thru It! Discoveries

     In my new house for a month, I was most relieved that my oversized couch fit into the television room so I can indulge in mindless entertainment with my feet up at the end of each day.  Not one for details, I was especially grateful that a dear friend broadened my  world beyond the couch and nightly crime drama with her housewarming visit.  "Oh you have a pocket door!" she exclaimed as she explored the kitchen, pulling the pocket door from its hiding spot unnoticed by me.  "I wonder if I have another one," I exclaimed excitedly rushing to the other side of the room to discover a corresponding pocket door with a shiny brass lock.  "Oh, and I love your sink.  Look at what the nozzle does!" as she freed it to squirt water on what will be the home of many dirty dishes.  We later discovered a composter in the back yard and light switches that corresponded to an array of motion-detected lighting around the house.

     My renewed curiosity led me to the front storm door whose window I learned to pull down to remove composting beetles and replenish the house with fresh air.  Settling in, I had become all too settled, looking no further for amenities of our new digs that would allow us privacy, convenience, the ability to be environmentally conscious while nourishing beautiful plants and a bristling summer breeze.      

Moving too quickly or complacent by comfort, we forge ahead in life, expecting the routine rather than making discoveries that can shape our life or attitudes differently.  It is only through awareness (and good friends who point things out) that we can open doors to living rooms (in my case now) and new discoveries. I will be an avid explorer of my surroundings rather than a coach potato in my own life.

• When have you made a discovery - big or small - that changed your environment, relationships or perspective? 
• Where can you go exploring in your life to find a new treasure?                         
• Who can help you to explore?

A toast to my subconscious and Discovery Vineyards, who capped off my week and reinforced this theme when I inadvertently bought this brand of wine at the grocery store.    

Push Thru It! Obligatory

As I prepared to go to my ex's nieces wedding last night, I dragged my heels despite having a pretty pair of shiny silver ones to make a graceful entrance with my ex, his girlfriend and my daughter  to greet the family I had not seen in four years.  I bought bullet proof Spanx that could have been a scuba diving suit if they were any bigger.  My gut and thighs would be invincible while my butt would have a specially designed, just right lift.  My silver necklace would gleam like the fake smile I would don for the night.  It was different going in four hours than accepting the invitation weeks ago from a member of the family I loved.   

"When we're grown ups, we have to do things that are 'obligatory'," said my friend Tricia, a vital member of my 24 hour-neuroses hotline.   "Like funerals, co-parenting, going to events with exes.  You do it because you have to, it's obligatory."  She was right and with one word, I shifted from kicking and screaming to rising above and being a grown-up.  I would envision obligatory "grown up" checkpoints at the wedding as I tucked my heartache and angst in my Spanx for the night:

• Telling his girlfriend she looked pretty, check.
• Hugging his mom that I miss so much, check.
• Greeting the family I wanted to be a part of, check. 
• Dancing with his girlfriend and my daughter, check. 
• Leaving alone and kissing my daughter goodbye for the night, check. 

Being obligatory was not easy and my heart still sank despite distracted moments on the dance floor synching my steps and soul with carefree twenty-somethings.   Obligatory helped me to detach though and buck up for the next checkpoint. Head on before I would head on to my life again with a greater sense of strength and pride.   I would cry later when I could feel supported beyond gripping nylon and breathe a sigh of relief (not just because I took my Spanx off).             

• Where could a sense of obligatory help you? 
• Where might you need to put your feelings aside to do what is right?

            

Push Thru It! Excavated

Blasting “Don’t Fear the Reaper” on my stereo, I high-tailed it from a blissful wedding to pick up my daughter at her Dad’s while getting psyched for the meaningless late night small talk with his GF and him. I was invincible, dazzling in my purple dress with girdle underneath. Feelings, soul and gut tucked in, securely fastened. I would take the high road and extend hellos and birthday invitations and leave quickly with a lasting impression of regret, mystique, and such awe at our co-parenting that it is hard to imagine we are actually apart. A sure thing, a brief entrance without a moment to reveal my soft underbelly, oozing from my undergarments and psyche.

With my fresh glistening lipstick, I lovingly secured my girl in her seat and began the decline of his driveway and my evening. Wheels stopping, I quickly realized I was entrenched in a ditch. STUCK.

No desperate acceleration or push would free me from this mess. I was in deep waiting for the Triple A excavator while continuing shallow conversation with GF and Ex at the kitchen table. Slightly redeemed by my organizational skills or an answered prayer, I quickly found my Triple A card despite being rattled by my two wheels off the ground. I made a compelling case for a quick response by stressing the precarious position of the car without mentioning my own.

We put on our best face. GF and I exchanged pleasantries, shared summer experiences and moved from shallow to sincere. She comforted me by revealing I was not the first to struggle with the descent, while my Ex calmly problem-solved and joked to help the situation. We were in it together, sharing the drama, odds stacked against us as the petite blond excavator arrived and handed me the damage waiver to sign. We cheered as Jessica B. pulled the car from the ditch and lifted the weight of the situation.

The last circumstance I would have chosen for myself became an opportunity to face what had been difficult and liberate myself from facades and fears in the space of not an option. Humbled, I became my best in the worst and strong, real and dignified in the humanity of a screw-up. Like my car, I became free. No damage done.

•  Where do you need to free yourself? 
• What opportunities might you experience as a result? 

Dedicated to Jessica B. who helped me to get unstuck!

 

Push Thru It! Find Your Strengths (and Stay Away from Obnoxious People)

In the sweltering heat, I volunteered to be a "food wrapper"  at my daughter's swim meet.  I dutifully checked in at the stand with the head wrapper, an eighth grader named Tory, who sent me on my way until the hamburgers were ready to come off of the grill.  I waited to prove my community commitment and utility as a swim team mom.

Tory was a hard-core wrapper with no time for mommys' rapping about fates of the children.  She directed the moms to position the tinfoil just right and not smush the burgers.  The tension was rising, like the heat as the hamburgers feverishly made their way off of the grill into the plastic covered hands of mothers.  

"What's that?" Tory barked, interrupting our assembly of hamburger rolling to single out one of my burgers I had wrapped.  "It's a hamburger," I said.  "Here, take it if you can do it better."  I felt my blood boiling in this hamburger sweat shop as my perspiration tried to refrain from becoming a salty condiment on the burgers.  She later passive-aggressively directed me to reposition the pan, so I gave it to her and told her I would follow her very capable, pompous lead.  Note:  I didn't say it quite like that.   

Eventually rained out, I tried to make a recovery by showing that I could now wrap hamburgers like Christmas presents and volunteer for the rescheduled meet the next day.  "No.  I think we will be okay," said Tory. 

Wrapping was not my bag, and I had much more skill and fun listening to a fellow wrapper, distraught over her son's intense relationship at the ripe age of eighteen. We will likely be acquaintances long beyond the hamburger stand while Tory still buries her head in burgers. 

Dedicated to Tory, whom I hope will lighten up.