Being Helpful

I have about $34 to my name currently. I also have a $20 bill nestled safely and sweetly in my wallet. It has lived there for the past 3 weeks. On top of the $34 and the $20 I have about $1000+ I will  spend in the next few days for a baseball trip–of which I currently do not have. Go figure. The only reason why I have not drowned my sorrows in cake and ice cream just yet is because I have faith that He will make everything okay. But you know what they say…faith without work is dead. So, I decided to put in a little bit of work.

I hate asking for help. I would sit in the dark with only candles for light before I opened my mouth to ask for help. It is unfortunate, but it is who I am. I am learning, however, that that is what family and friends are for. So I put a little bit of my head on their shoulders when my back is crushing the wall. This week (please reference the $1000+ above) my spine is cracking the drywall. I asked for help.

My aunt and uncle were one of the first to answer the call. When my uncle answered the call, he reminded me to tithe. It was a funny thing he had mentioned it because it was nothing more than confirmation. Just a week prior I had prayed about my situation (as a whole) and what I should do and the only thing that came back was that. It stayed on my mind for days afterward–you know that nagging pull and tug? Yes, that was it. Okay God, I understand. I have a plan. Starting July 1 I would have it all in place. So–yea–the thing about God and plans….

Remember the mention of that sweet little $20 bill I have tucked away? It is no longer tucked–in my wallet anyway. YG came into the office looking for food to feed his face. He also mentioned that he was trying to drum up cab fare for a lady who had been sitting in the lobby trying to figure out how she would get to where she needed to go. Angel tap, mental nod, bye bye $20. He took a $20 bill out of his wallet ready to hand it to her and I slipped my $20 out too. “You sure?” He said. “Yup.” I said. “Ok, I will try to get you your money back.” I shook my head. “No need. I don’t want it back.” And truthfully, I didn’t.

Someone sewed a seed for me in my time of need and it seemed only fitting that I did the same. The Angel tap didn’t hurt either. I have learned not to argue with God or to hem and haw at His instruction. We have no idea what His plan is. It feels good to be helpful when I am in need of help. To be able to give openly knowing it is His will and for His good and not my own, feels right. I like feeling good and right. It also feels kinda cool to get my sweet little $20 back…she didn’t need quite so much after all 🙂

~SM

What Is The Point?

Remember that scene in Dreamgirls when Deena asks the other two what’s the point? I am asking the same question. Deena asked that question of her group-mates because she was frustrated. They knew they had done an outstanding job, but once again they got the door shut in their faces. So, out of frustration she expressed her interest in finding out what the hell is the point of it all. I don’t ask in frustration, but more out of curiosity.

I was plucking a couple hairs and wondered why. I put lotion on my feet this morning and asked myself what for. I put on a dress and make up and made my way out the door to drive twenty minutes to work and for what? I get up, get dressed, go to work, come home and do it all over again, but for what? Why? To make a set amount of money just to pay someone all of said money? To buy things of no value or momentary value? Don’t you ever wonder, like really really wonder why we are doing what we do? Why do we bother?

If you believe in God then you believe He has a plan and purpose for your life. You wouldn’t be here if He didn’t. But He knows the plan–you don’t. So, while He’s working the plan and you are either right on target or running around in circles like a headless chicken, there is a point we just don’t know what it is. So what is the point of the not knowing? Is it to teach us something and if so, does it really matter? We’ll be dead when the lesson is learned. Right?

Why in the world are we here? Why are there some rich, some poor, some in between? Why are their nutty people and seemingly sane people? Why are there marriages that last 50 years and some that only last 5 days? Why are there single people longing for love and why are their coupled people cheating? Why do we wear make up and look for better jobs? Why do we have passions yet can’t find a way to live them? What. Is. The. Point? Perhaps we’ll never know…well…anytime soon that is.

~SM

Feeling Replaceable

The biggest problem with loss is the feeling of being replaceable. Sure, it is nice to be the dumper or the two-week-noticer, but when you are not, it doesn’t feel so good. I got a taste of that when I was unexpectadely reminded that even though I am the mother, there is always room for one more.

It is something you think about when you have an ex anything and there are kids involved. You forget there is the potential for your off spring to bond with another adult. You ex has bonded, but you could give two shits about that particular bond (matter of fact you have often wished they got stuck together like humping dogs in the street). No. What worries you most is her (or him) glopping themselves onto your kids with fun stuff like shopping and outings and your kids sticking. After all, you are the rule setter, the drill sergeant, the taxi, the bill payer, the yeller, the spanker, the bad guy and on the tired days the ‘i don’t care’ guy. You don’t get the luxury of every other weekend fun in the sun spoil time with your children. Your spoil time and your mom time is intermingled together and it can be hard to tell the difference. To them…you are just mom…and to you…well…maybe you are not entirely replaceable but you certainly aren’t alone and it hurts.

It hurts somewhere way deep down, in a place no one can quite touch, when you think about being replaced. When your boss lays you off to replace you with someone younger and cheaper–it hurts. When your significant other breaks it off to replace you with whomever–it hurts. When your kids replace you with a girl/boyfriend, or just activities and friends in general–it hurts. But I suppose it doesn’t have to.

Looking at it behind mature lenses, we are truly irreplaceable. Someone can fill our seat momentarily, sure, but we are marvelously, wonderfully made uniquely enough so that no one person can step comfortably in our footsteps. There is only one you. There is only one me. Of course…I prefer to seethe and throw a tantrum about the potential of the Replacement, but that’s only because that feels better than being all yogi-om and mature. Realistically (here’s the mature crap again), I should know my worth and I should know my place within this world and in the hearts of those who truly love me. Why…I am smwart. I am kand. I am impowtant. Can’t take that away, no matter how much glitter and gold is thrown in the air.

~SM

Sommertime Vacay: Book List

Yay for summer vacations! I love sommer vacay  summer vacay. All of my parental responsibilities are on hold (for 2 months anyway), I can get away with eating ice cream for breakfast, and juicy bbq burgers never taste better than on a patio during warm, summer nights. In an effort to make the most out of my Sommertime Vacation, I plan on grabbing some great summer reads, curling up on the couch, and getting lost. The goal: (1) book per week for (8) weeks. Wish me luck!

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You cannot possibly get through life without a little O-wisdom. This summer, I invite O and her big brain full of isms into my space. Namaste.

 

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Classic author summertime reading nod goes to S. King. You can’t get through vacation or a dark, rainy night without showing some love to the King himself.

 

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When I saw Arianna Huffington on Super Soul Sunday, I sat up and listened. I have had Thrive on my book list for about a year now. No time like the present to get to reading!

 

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While a fan of her work, I am most interested in her actual story. It stirs something in my belly. This novel is set in my fave place–hopefully I can snag a few chapters under some palms this summer.

 

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When I read this in high school, I enjoyed it immensely. The Maury Show like drama but back when television was actually just a radio was exciting. A classic with some Maury drama? Yes please!

 

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Yes, he’s on my list twice. *blank stare* Listen…it’s Stephen King. What can I say? This is going to be a thrilling summer ride!

 

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This summer I am not only focusing on reading, but I am also focusing on writing too. I love to write and I love the connection between the gift of writing, the imagination, and every day reality. Perfect book written by the perfect author to give me some more perspective (and instruction) on writing and life.

 

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I have been chomping at the bit for years to read this book and this summer it will most likely be the first book I read. It is not often you find a book that stands the test of time and changes lives in the process. My nose is itching at just the thought of smelling those pages (yes…I am somewhat of a nerd…carry on).

 

BONUS BOOKS

I know I only said (8) books, but I could not leave these last two off of my list. These will most likely be my end of summer celebration books. Geeked!

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JK’s story inspires me every time I think of her name. She inspired me even more when she popped up on the scene as a male author. I like her thinking and her style. I couldn’t possibly let the Sommertime Vacation float away without a little JK Rolling inspiration.

 

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In case you hadn’t noticed, I am a sucker for new things and Oprah. This is the recent Oprah Book Club 2.0 selection and I figured what harm would it do to dive into a book from a new author sprinkled with a little O-love. Absolutely none 😉

~SM

Jeepers! Creepers

As a woman with awesome legs, I enjoy wearing dresses. They (the legs) are about the only thing on my body I don’t have to encase in Spanx like sausage. So when the weather is warm, or when I am just in the mood, I will slip into a dress and heels. I am a woman. It is my right.

One day last week I was feeling especially sassy and threw on a short, black sheath dress. Not short enough for people to mistake me for a prostitute but short enough for someone to admire the scenery….at a distance. Upon standing in the bread isle waiting for The Girl to come back with a carriage, Mr. Creepy Peeper proceeded to look up my dress. I know this because I caught him out of the corner of my eye and met his gaze when I turned around. Clearly taken aback, I moved to the opposite end of the isle where a small crowd of people where standing. All finished, and safely sitting in the car, I turned to say something to The Girl and low and behold Mr. Creepy Peeper was walking by. *shock and awe*

Not assuming he was following me, but let us assume he was following me–what gives a person the right to make another severely uncomfortable? And I suppose I should follow that question up with, do you just carry a baseball bat around with you and beat up Creepers when you feel like it?

As women, we have the right to walk around practically naked if we want. And…as men, they have the right to look, stare, drool, eat their hearts out…you get the picture. But at what point does the looking/staring/drooling become not enough? Why must we be touched or cornered or called like an animal or visually assaulted with Creeper eyes? Show a little respect will ya….Creepers.

~SM

Sommertime Vacation

Every year, usually about 2-3 weeks prior to my birthday, the Universe plops a big gigantic A-Ha on me and I am enlightened. Every. Single. Year. I have yet to get my A-Ha (mean face). Or, perhaps I have.

A couple of mornings ago, I was flipping through Facebook and felt completely over it. Sure, it is nice to see people’s updates and pictures and it is as equally as nice to share my own random thoughts and photos, but in all actuality….who gives a shit? I mean, realistically, how many people care I had Mommy’s mac & cheese or if you found a t-shirt 50% off? Who cares if you write a dissertation on your wife and how great she is or who really wants to see you and your phantom boyfriend holding hands at the movies. Quite honestly….do you care? I suppose the same could be said for BSM. I mean, who cares if I am struggling with running 3 miles or having a parent breakdown? Somehow, though, this seems different…it seems…helpful.

Anywho, I have the overwhelming need for balance. I feel the need to cut off everything that is a distraction and get back to the basics. And by basics I mean pen, pencil, notebook, board games, no clutter, GNO’s with just a great movie and the couch, books with actual bookmarks, the Bible and Beethoven. Oh…and Being Sadie May (of course).

It should be fun and exciting to actually take a summer break from all of the junk I allowed to slip in. Maybe I will actually be able to complete some things I have been desperately trying to get done. Maybe I can focus long enough to finish my novels. Or perhaps I can actually lose weight. I could possibly get back to centered. Maybe…just maybe…I can slide my way back to beautiful Me (smile). Sommertime Vacation just might be my best A-Ha yet. What fun this is going to be!

~SM

I Am Suppose To Be…

That woman. You know, that woman? The one who breezes into Starbucks with her yoga/running gear on, fresh from dropping the kids at school, looking to get her day started with some physical activity. Perhaps she will end up driving back to her snazzy Better Homes & Gardens pad to slip into a shower built for two with a shower head that sprays water to mimic rainforest  showers. She will throw on a designer pair of slacks or jeans or a dress to officially start her day. She is probably the CEO of her own body care company or a consultant of some kind or a best selling author–able to move in and out of home life and work life seamlessly. I am suppose to be that woman.

No, no one told me I was suppose to be anything like her…it’s just….well….I can feel her lurking around in there. I can feel her tugging at the edges of my thoughts and (on a good day) I can feel her literally taking the steps for me to move from the minivan (which she would not be driving) to the neighborhood Wayfield (she would shop at Whole Foods). But then…her one step is countered by 3 steps back (boooooo hissss booooo). It kinda makes you just want to throw your hands up (not party style…more like in exasperation).

The other day, while at brunch with a friend, as we walked from car to restaurant we both felt it. We both felt the pull to be her. She, this woman I speak of, has the freedom to do what she loves, take care of her family and enjoy little slices of life. She has a positive bank account balance, no real worries or cares, and a plan. She travels and does community work. She breezes through Target buying necessities, but the name brand kind. She doesn’t have to choose between paying her power bill or putting gas in the car. Matter of fact, she can actually fill up her tank.

I need to be that woman. She is in there. I just need to find that thing to squeeze her out…like a big fat zit.

~SM