One Sunday, in 1980, while catching up after a week of: teaching, meeting a writing deadline, stuffing hundreds of neighborhood children in car pools, driving to thousands of schools, sports practices and games on fields all over town ... after helping with homework ... after preparing, serving and cleaning up homemade meals for an army of young men, whose athletic appetites grew as fast as their heights shot up toward vaulted ceilings ... after accomplishing everything on my daily things-to-do lists, like making appointments and driving and waiting in doctors' dentists' orthodontists' not to forget their father's orthopaedic office, because due to our active attack upon life, one of us always seemed injured ... I spent this day of rest playing tennis ... NOT ... because, along with every other tightly scheduled activity, competitive leagues convened during the week, same with riding my favorite horse, Granny, Tuesdays and Thursdays from the canal to the top of the mountain behind my house, which of course made it 'my' mountain, where upon reaching the peak, my smile delighted in the expansive view of my little corner of the world, sprawling out so far below this height, which I'd somehow miraculously managed to claim as my own.
As to Sunday, the day of rest, well, my time was spent whistling while working at food shopping, separating piles of whites from colors in need of spraying, washing, drying, folding, preparing meals to freeze for next week, baking toll house recipes with extra chocolate chips ... after flipping pancakes for my trio and all of their endlessly hungry friends, warmly welcomed to consider our home their weekend retreat, and in these ways did I choose to exhaust what little was left of my gargantuan storehouse of energy, every Sunday, the day biblically reserved for ... family and rest ... which I think is an oxymoron. (love that word ... oxy/moron, because life is crazy!).
After working hard, playing hard, and winding down by reading voraciously, I slept soundly. Where I found time to sit on school boards and volunteer on the youth group board, as well, I have no clue. Somehow, 500 puzzle pieces came together, every week, creating a kaleidoscopic picture of family life that fit me as smoothly as slipping my busy hands into a pair of cashmere lined, soft kid gloves, stitched specifically for me. I didn't work at any task from the standpoint of necessity. As I loved my work, both professionally and personally, common sense sought ways to keep all aspects of my life humming, harmonically. And as heartfelt laughter spilled out of my spirit, naturally, our family loaded up on tons of fun. No wonder why all the kids, who stayed over every weekend, considered themselves family ... when positivity plays follow-the-leader, every day feels like party day. Don't even get me started, describing holiday and birthday surprises ... as for Halloween ... well let's put it this way, now that my sons run that show, there's never less than 200 at their annual bash ... all costumed to the max, of course! When people love people, it shows.
You see, it's a well known fact that a complex machine, such as family life proves to be, is in need of a well tuned engine, so unknowingly, I turned myself into the little engine that could by acting very much like the eighth in a line of seven dwarfs, whistling while I worked from dawn to dusk and ... after personally tucking each of my three sons into their beds ... and after bedtime stories had been read and after each had enjoyed an uninterrupted, one-to-one, Three Minute Miracle time, alone in their rooms, with Yours Truly ... deep into the dark of night, I'd highlight a new parenting text before dropping off to sleep at midnight only to awaken at 6am to more of the same.
Once, after a ten day stay, my mother-in-law exclaimed, I don't know how you do it, Annie. Watching how fast you move exhausts me. Is your washing machine broken? No, I replied, why do you ask? It's not running. It's always running! And so was I.
Sooo ... by the time late afternoon on Sunday rolled around, you can see as to how appreciative I'd felt when Life offered up a moment of peaceful respite where I'd curl up with the entertainment section of the newspaper on two, colorfully over-stuffed floor pillows, plumped up against the white tiles of our living room fireplace, as was my habit—until something changed—and here it comes ... the short end of the straw ...
Upon the winds of change, Pop Warner blew into our lives. And with this additional activity, let's call it—the last straw—Super Mom's last few moments of relaxation blew out of my life—but not for long :)
At this point, late in the day on Sunday saw me doing more laundry. And as resting less and less became the norm a rest/less change took place in me. Though my good humored demeanor wrestled with this undefined sense of restless dismay for quite some time, over time, this change developed a name. A first name and a last. If the first name of my change was ... Frustration, my second change was named ... Resentment ... both of which were new to the little engine that could until she experienced too little down time for herself. How cliche of me!
Once my ever increasing mountain of tasks-taken-on loomed too high to climb over on my own, an over-taxed frame of mind caused my heartfelt smile to shrink. And rather than watching my spirit greet each day by leaping out of bed, delighting in life, the little engine that could awakened tired. As it takes quite a lot for Happy to simulate Grumpy, this petite powerhouse, who'd always called herself Lucky, shrugged off frustration and resentment and whistled for as long as she could ...
If at this point your curiosity would like to ask what changes might a sinking attitude and a shrinking smile bring to the idyllic family life, created by the contemplative brain of this super-duper mothering machine (who having gone unheard, knew better than to shriek her resentment out loud), well, I'd reply ... if one change leads to the next, then two changes lead to many more, and as this story is just beginning to unfold ... and as my mind is presently in need of a rest, I'll ask you to rustle up a bit of patience, because you'll soon see how actions that speak louder than words are about to change who-is-responsible-for-what in this happy home after a plucky, lucky, contemplative woman, who speaks up but goes unheard, goes on strike. As for now, I have no doubt that what you are about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone, when chapter two of this story pops up on your screen, because it seems to me that peeps of all ages enjoy coming home when consequences, concerning cooperation, are laced with a sense of fun . And with that, Lucky, who is nursing a mild case of shingles (so much for vaccinations) is about to grab a nutritious snack and a much needed, well deserved rest from... writing :)
Sent from my iPad
As to Sunday, the day of rest, well, my time was spent whistling while working at food shopping, separating piles of whites from colors in need of spraying, washing, drying, folding, preparing meals to freeze for next week, baking toll house recipes with extra chocolate chips ... after flipping pancakes for my trio and all of their endlessly hungry friends, warmly welcomed to consider our home their weekend retreat, and in these ways did I choose to exhaust what little was left of my gargantuan storehouse of energy, every Sunday, the day biblically reserved for ... family and rest ... which I think is an oxymoron. (love that word ... oxy/moron, because life is crazy!).
After working hard, playing hard, and winding down by reading voraciously, I slept soundly. Where I found time to sit on school boards and volunteer on the youth group board, as well, I have no clue. Somehow, 500 puzzle pieces came together, every week, creating a kaleidoscopic picture of family life that fit me as smoothly as slipping my busy hands into a pair of cashmere lined, soft kid gloves, stitched specifically for me. I didn't work at any task from the standpoint of necessity. As I loved my work, both professionally and personally, common sense sought ways to keep all aspects of my life humming, harmonically. And as heartfelt laughter spilled out of my spirit, naturally, our family loaded up on tons of fun. No wonder why all the kids, who stayed over every weekend, considered themselves family ... when positivity plays follow-the-leader, every day feels like party day. Don't even get me started, describing holiday and birthday surprises ... as for Halloween ... well let's put it this way, now that my sons run that show, there's never less than 200 at their annual bash ... all costumed to the max, of course! When people love people, it shows.
You see, it's a well known fact that a complex machine, such as family life proves to be, is in need of a well tuned engine, so unknowingly, I turned myself into the little engine that could by acting very much like the eighth in a line of seven dwarfs, whistling while I worked from dawn to dusk and ... after personally tucking each of my three sons into their beds ... and after bedtime stories had been read and after each had enjoyed an uninterrupted, one-to-one, Three Minute Miracle time, alone in their rooms, with Yours Truly ... deep into the dark of night, I'd highlight a new parenting text before dropping off to sleep at midnight only to awaken at 6am to more of the same.
Once, after a ten day stay, my mother-in-law exclaimed, I don't know how you do it, Annie. Watching how fast you move exhausts me. Is your washing machine broken? No, I replied, why do you ask? It's not running. It's always running! And so was I.
Sooo ... by the time late afternoon on Sunday rolled around, you can see as to how appreciative I'd felt when Life offered up a moment of peaceful respite where I'd curl up with the entertainment section of the newspaper on two, colorfully over-stuffed floor pillows, plumped up against the white tiles of our living room fireplace, as was my habit—until something changed—and here it comes ... the short end of the straw ...
Upon the winds of change, Pop Warner blew into our lives. And with this additional activity, let's call it—the last straw—Super Mom's last few moments of relaxation blew out of my life—but not for long :)
At this point, late in the day on Sunday saw me doing more laundry. And as resting less and less became the norm a rest/less change took place in me. Though my good humored demeanor wrestled with this undefined sense of restless dismay for quite some time, over time, this change developed a name. A first name and a last. If the first name of my change was ... Frustration, my second change was named ... Resentment ... both of which were new to the little engine that could until she experienced too little down time for herself. How cliche of me!
Once my ever increasing mountain of tasks-taken-on loomed too high to climb over on my own, an over-taxed frame of mind caused my heartfelt smile to shrink. And rather than watching my spirit greet each day by leaping out of bed, delighting in life, the little engine that could awakened tired. As it takes quite a lot for Happy to simulate Grumpy, this petite powerhouse, who'd always called herself Lucky, shrugged off frustration and resentment and whistled for as long as she could ...
If at this point your curiosity would like to ask what changes might a sinking attitude and a shrinking smile bring to the idyllic family life, created by the contemplative brain of this super-duper mothering machine (who having gone unheard, knew better than to shriek her resentment out loud), well, I'd reply ... if one change leads to the next, then two changes lead to many more, and as this story is just beginning to unfold ... and as my mind is presently in need of a rest, I'll ask you to rustle up a bit of patience, because you'll soon see how actions that speak louder than words are about to change who-is-responsible-for-what in this happy home after a plucky, lucky, contemplative woman, who speaks up but goes unheard, goes on strike. As for now, I have no doubt that what you are about to see is sure to tickle your funny bone, when chapter two of this story pops up on your screen, because it seems to me that peeps of all ages enjoy coming home when consequences, concerning cooperation, are laced with a sense of fun . And with that, Lucky, who is nursing a mild case of shingles (so much for vaccinations) is about to grab a nutritious snack and a much needed, well deserved rest from... writing :)
Sent from my iPad
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