pit and peak.

I was feeling miserable stuck in my nasty head cold this afternoon with absolutely THE shortest fuse ever and hungry to boot, on my way home from picking up the girls from basketball practice that ran 20 minutes later than it should have, and running through the grocery store at 5pm grabbing things we forgot earlier.

How’s that for a run on sentence?

I was tired and cranky for sure!

But I came home to dinner cooking and smelling delicious thanks to Mr. Man, took a minute to decompress and then up the stairs came the call “dinners ready!” We went through the typical plea from the 5 year old about the juice he would rather have then milk and dished everyone up. We all sat down to dinner and then, without prompting, my 5 year old says-“who’s going first?”

Let me backtrack for a minute…one night I was watching a fascinating, brilliant, thought provoking documentary on TV about a close knit family talking about what made them so close…ok…fine…I was watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians…a reality show about people who are famous for…well..nothing…but they WERE talking about dinner table conversations growing up. In their house, every day at dinner, they took turns telling each other about the pit and the peak of their day. So one day I thought I would try it on for size in our house. We do eat dinner together every night of the week and I thought this may be a good way to encourage more conversation than the usual “school was boring”, “I have too much homework”, etc. So for the last couple months we’ve been sharing our pits and peaks of the day-all of us-not just the kids.

Now. The kids have been away for a week and tonight was the first weeknight we were all at the table again. And the 5 year old prompts us about our pits and peaks. Awesome.

So they all take turns, there are lots of pits and peaks, none very drastic, some cute and clever and a kindergarten argument with his arch enemy Ashely about who said which bad word (which by the way was “peace out sucker” I know. It’s shocking the language these kids bust out!)

And I’m last.
And I think for a second.

My pit is that I woke up with an insane cough and a raw sore throat.

But my peak was homemade Chicken Pot Pie, sitting around the table with the people I love the most, talking about everyone’s day.

Thank you Kim Kardashian.
You have improved my parenting!

Go figure.

McGee

in these four walls...

Wars.
Sickness.
Recession.
Challenged Economy.
Crazy people with drama all around.

There are plenty of things in the outside world that given the chance would absolutely drive the most sane, well adjusted person up a wall if given the chance. But here we are at the grateful season of Thanksgiving followed quickly by the wonderful heartfelt season of Christmas and love. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes our lives great out here in McGee-ville.

I am grateful on any given day for many things and many people in my life. I have been blessed with an amazing mother, a father who loved me in his own ways crazy as they may be and sisters that I make crazy and vice versa but who stick together when it counts. I am grateful for the huge extended family I grew up with and the memories that time can’t even take away from me. I’m grateful that I have a job. I don’t love it but I am grateful for work! I’m grateful for good friends, good health, a roof over my head, a reliable car, the clothes on my back…there are a great many things that I am grateful for.

But this year…
This year I am most grateful for my own four walls.

I’m not a self proclaimed accomplished homemaker by any stretch. I’m not very good at decorating-I know when it looks good but I’m not sure how to start. I can’t bake bread and I love flowers but I’m not so sure how to arrange them. I cook…a little…I can bake up a storm but that is perhaps as domestic as I get!

But I think I found the secret.

I learned how to create the home our family needed with some help from my man-let’s call him Mr. Man. And it had nothing to do with shabby chic décor or Betty Crocker homemaking-although I wish I had those skills! It was about what we feel when we walk into our four walls.

This past year Mr. Man and I have spent lots of blood, sweat and tears taking the best of our homes growing up and meshing that into our own home. As a result, I am most grateful that regardless of the craziness that is life, the challenge of whatever school or work has brought, that no matter who or what attempts to tear us down at the end of the day we and any combination of our four kids get to come home to a safe, loving, warm, supportive home where we block the rest of the world out and focus on our family.

THAT is a home.
THAT is what I am extremely grateful for.
THAT is why 2009 has been such a blessing.

I have a partner in Mr. Man that picks up where I leave off, that adores me and all four of these kids and that loves to cook the most amazing meals. I have been blessed to fall in love with my very best friend and find-to my delight-that he wants the same four walls that I do. We have four beautiful, strong, smart, loving children who are healthy and happy and who know they are loved. We share what’s in our four walls with good friends and family from time to time who leave little imprints of their hearts as they fill our four walls.

It’s not always blissful, it’s not always clean and much to our kids dismay sometimes I have to cook instead of him.

But what happens in our four walls
will always outweigh what waits outside.

And we are all the better for it.
Because it’s home.

McGee

real strength.

I think grandma jinxed me at 16.
I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean to.
But thanks Grandma.

When I was 16, my grandma, who I have to say is one of my all time favorite people to have ever lived on this earth, sent me a letter and in it she says “You have already seen more than many people do in life and you are strong for it.”

If she had a crystal ball, if she knew that one day I would survive my parents divorce, lose my relationship with my father to mental illness, would marry very young and struggle through 12 years before parting ways, go through my own personal crises and support others through theirs, raise kids of my own and those that came to me in a round about way and then lose her in the process…I wonder if she would have dared say I had seen enough to give me strength by the ripe old age of 16. It was almost as if she dared the universe to bring it on!

As the oldest of 6 girls raised by the oldest daughter of 8 kids I was born with the knack of taking care of others and being the strong stalwart one. When anyone had a problem I knew I could handle it. I assumed the role. When my parents split up I stepped in to help with the younger kids. I was the one who didn’t cry. I was the one that pretended to be strong. There was a good portion of my adult years where I thought I was being strong for others by telling them what they should be doing and using shame in attempt to help them straighten out.

Really not so strong.

Fortunately-for the people in my life-I found some sanity, some peace and perspective and have spent the rest of my adult years-so far-attempting to offer strength and help when it was appropriate and helpful. I’m not going to lie…it’s progress not perfection but it’s surely an improvement! At least that’s what my sisters tell me!

And yet I still had not found my true strength.

They say you don’t know how strong you are until you are faced with the impossible.  They say we don’t know our own strength.  I believe in crisis we do things we didn’t consciously think we could do. I believe hindsight is 20/20 and when we look back we feel strong.

But I also believe that my strongest moment came when I could not go any further alone.

That moment came after I had spent 12 months pretending with everyone important that my life was great and perfect. I lied. I lied to save face and I lied because I was in denial. I had made the choice to move away from home with my kids-to do something different-much to some peoples disappointment-and I fell on my face . I was now officially in over my head, facing Christmas with just the kids, financially shaky and in the midst of an emotional crisis.

And I had no idea what to do next.

I found myself in bed late one night.
All alone.
In the fetal position.

I cried and I cried…”I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this”
And then I felt calm.
And a quiet strong voice reminded me I wasn’t alone.
And then I did the unthinkable.

I asked for help.

I had to ask my sisters, my little sisters, the ones who I had always tried to be stronger than, for help. And you know what? They helped like nobody’s business. They came. They picked me up. They dusted me off. They did the things I could not do. They didn’t tell me I was a mess, they didn’t judge me or turn me away.

I think perhaps they were relieved that I was finally real.
That I was finally willing to admit my life was messy.
That they could offer me something I needed and was afraid to ask for…

Help.
And some laughter.
And a shoulder to cry on.
And a tremendous amount of grace.

And at that moment I realized what strength was. Strength was not being strong enough to do it all by myself. Strength was knowing I could not and finding the humility to ask for help. Strength came in allowing those who loved me, who I had supported in the past, give back and help me do what I could not do for myself. When I hit my knees, God reminded me that he placed some very special people in my life and in my family and that all I needed to do was ask. And they would be there. And they really were.

McGee

Check out http://www.freshbrew.org/ for some more sources of strength!

scared.

I’m scared.

More like terrified.

Not like spiders, snakes and being scared in the dark.

Much worse than that.

Spiders and snakes I can handle.

More like am I enough as a mom, have I taught them the right things, will they make good choices, do they know what they need to know to go out into the world? Forget the world-are they smart enough and have strong enough values to survive middle school?

That’s not scary. That’s plain terrifying.

My friend commented to me that she was enjoying my blog but perhaps I could write about mothering…maybe give her some advice…LOL…Mary, this one is for you!

Most of my peers spent their 20’s mastering the fine art of partying and their 30’s trying to move past that. Not me. In my 20’s I was raising babies and mastering the fine art of the “What If” game followed by a case of the “If Only’s”. In my 30’s I’m trying to move past THAT and I do…for the most part…except for when it comes to those adorable babies I was raising in my 20’s…both of whom woke up one morning as beautiful, talented, cute, smart and sassy young women. Which brings me to a whole new level of “What If” and “If Only”!

I’m not ready for that!

I just realized that my oldest daughter is going to be in high school next year. High school. Where Freshmen go to school with Seniors. The leap is staggering. I remember watching Zach at a basketball game his Freshmen year and watching the Senior boys across the gym thinking…oh my goodness. My little boy is going to school with grown men!  And now I'm looking at sending GIRLS there?!?!?

The truth is, 98% of the time I think I’m a good mom. I’m doing the things I want to do with my children, I’ve taught them well, they are active kids who know they are loved and supported. Sure they don’t love their veggies and they like to occasionally push every last button we have but they are good kids none the less.

Then there’s that 2%.

That 2% kept me up well past 1am last night as I shed tears of fear over had I done enough. Did I teach them the right things? Do they know what to do in any situation? Will they talk to me if they get in over their heads? Do they know their worth? Have I taught them enough so that they won’t repeat my mistakes?

I always wanted to be a mom but now I feel a little in over my head!
I wonder if my mom felt that way?
I wonder how many mom’s feel that way.
And late at night…trying to calm my worried mind…
I assume for the sake of sanity…that all mom’s feel that way.

And the kicker?
We aren’t even at high school yet!

McGee

The Crazy List

To do list? Check.

Grocery list? Check.

Pro’s and Con’s list? Check. In fact checked many times on many issues!

Goal list? Check.

We are a culture of list makers. And checker off-ers! In fact, sometimes, when making a list, I add things I’ve already done just so I can check them off!

But when I met Uncle Phil at the Beverly Hills Hotel I learned about a new list...The Crazy List.

But allow me to digress. I learned a few years back about a tricky little thing called boundaries. I think “issues” and “boundaries” are perhaps the buzz words of my generation. We all have “issues” and we’re a little confused about “boundaries”. I learned that we all have an acre. Now-if you have stopped playing FarmTown or FarmVille to come read my blog-you’ll catch my drift. We all have an acre and we surround ourselves with others acres. We like the company! But unlike FarmTown we can’t really maintain other people’s acres. We try. We get angry. We get frustrated. Why don’t they rake their leaves more often? Why aren’t they planting their corn yet? In our relationships, we tend to get confused about where our acre ends and our loved ones acres begin! That’s what fences are for. This is my space-that is yours. You can visit but you can’t stay.

Enter Uncle Phil.
Who’s not actually my uncle.
But is fabulous in every sense of the word.

Uncle Phil says we need to check our crazy list. When consumed with another person, their behavior, attitude, circumstance…we need to check-is that OUR crazy or THEIR crazy? When it’s ours we need to address it, fix it and move on…but on the good chance it’s their crazy…check them off on the crazy list and let it be.

Makes sense.

But what happens when we love that crazy person or that crazy spills out and affects me? Happens all the time. We spill on them and they spill on us. The point of the crazy list is not to disregard anyone with a case of the crazies. What it means is that we don’t have to take responsibility for other peoples crazy or their maintenance on their acre. Nor do we have to participate. We do, however, need to tend to our own.

I have had my fair share of crazy on both sides of the list. I have had a messy acre and a relatively clean one and every shade in between. I’m sure I’ve been checked off of other people’s crazy list more than once!

What I have learned though, is that there is a freedom and empowerment that comes from letting go of other people’s crazy and simply tending to my own acre.

And in the process, somehow, there is also a greater ability to love and accept them.

After all…they’re just crazy!

McGee