A Room With a View

This weekend, my husband and I got away for a night to celebrate our anniversary.  He suggested we have a night on the town and get a nice hotel or even go to Chicago.  I thought this sounded like a lot work and thought we were too busy to make this happen.  “Can’t we just go out to eat?”  “Why do we have to get a hotel in our own city, when we have a house we could sleep in?” I asked pragmatically and unromantically.  I didn’t particularly relish the idea of packing, getting a babysitter, or booking a hotel.

But, we got a good deal on Priceline and the plan started taking shape.  After arriving at the 4 star hotel Downtown (St. Louis) and haggling the concierge for their best room, I looked out the window in the newly renovated hotel room and realized that this was going to be fun, an adventure.  It is good to get away, even for a night, in our busy schedules and celebrate special occasions.  No house cleaning, laundry, cooking, or worrying about the internet being down.   We were celebrating life and we were going to have a memorable night. 

As I looked out our twelfth floor room’s window, I was getting a view of the Arch that I had never seen before.  It looked bigger and brighter, as it shone in the sun and overlooked the river.   This Arch is like a symbol of our lives.  We all try to round out our lives to create the perfect symmetry and arch that we hope doesn’t fall down.  It is a process.  Each piece has to fit perfectly.  But, in the end or even the middle, when we step back and look at it, we find that even with all the mistakes, trials, tears, and upsets, life does seem to be taking on the form of an arch.  Wonder of wonders.  It’s actually standing up on its own!

I stood there for a moment reflecting on my own arch in life.  Where in that arch does my 7 years of marriage, 6 years of motherhood, and almost 30 years of living place me?  Am I still on the first leg?  Probably… It is tall enough?  Straight enough?  Is it going to be able to curve in the middle? 

Sometimes it takes a night away to figure this out and see the big picture.  Standing back and staring at the riverfront Arch, I don’t see the years of work, engineering, heavy lifting, and painstaking measuring it took to erect that Arch.  I only see the end result, what was the vision of the makers.    

In many ways, as we reminisced and talked about our lives now, the blessings and the difficulties, I realized that getting away also offered me a new and different view of my life.  I was seeing the big picture and a different view, just like I saw in our room with a view.  Sometimes, we need to see our lives out a different window to see the big picture and appreciate the lessons in life.    

I thought, “This is why people need to take time and celebrate special occasions.”  So we can take a step back from our measuring, engineering, and lifting in life to see our progress and how the arch is shaping up.  We need a room with a view to see how far we’ve come and how much potential we have left in us. 

The "Mom" Pillow

Last week my son came home from a day at grandmas with a gift.  He was extremely excited about this gift, because he had helped make it. 

“Close your eyes mom,” he ordered with his hands behind his back.  Now, grandma’s place is a very crafty, creative place, so my head was swimming with ideas of what my “gift” could be.  “Hold out your hands, mom.”  I did as I was told.  My son loved the drama and made we stand there a few seconds just to enjoy the moments of anticipation.  He set something soft in my hands and I opened my eyes.  “It’s a pillow!” he shouted.  “I made it for you.”  As I looked down, I saw that he had a little help, because there was a soft, suede pillow with matching trim and the word, “Mom” embroidered across the front. 

I set the pillow in our window seat…thinking it would be more decorative than useful.  But my assumption was quickly revoked, as my son asked why I wasn’t using it.  He made me lie down and lifted my head to slide the pillow under my neck.  He then gently pushed my forehead down and asked, “There mom…doesn’t that feel good?”  He wanted me to be aware of its all-purpose functionality.  I had to agree.  It was a good neck pillow.  “Yes, Tyler, thank you.”  “Can I get up now?” 

Later that day, I picked up that pillow and studied the letters M-O-M lovingly inscribed.  I realized that this object represents what we women and mothers are.  We are the “pillows” in the lives of the people we love. 

We provide comfort and rest for our families.  We soften the blows in life by offering advice and encouragement.   In our presence, people can dream, be themselves and find rest.  We don’t judge.  We provide peace and give comfort.  People can come to us and cry out there fears and feel better.  We help those around us and elevate them to the position that we envision for them.    

While we don’t have all the answers for the trials that our loved ones face – we do provide an irreplaceable sense of calm.  We provide a safe environment for the people we love.  Those we come into contact with always leave feeling better.  These are unmistakable qualities that pillows and women share.    We don’t need a hard edge to us to accomplish what we want to accomplish in life.  We do all that by being like a pillow. 

Every mother needs a “mom pillow” to remind them of the wonderful qualities they possess that help the people they love.  As I look at mine, I think of my son.  What a wonderful gift.  He needs a lot of love and rest and peace.  And now I have a meaningful symbol of how I strive to give him that every day. 

Think Less, Live More

Homework days are eventful with my son.  We have to warm-up… find the right pencils, have a snack, get something to drink, and then tackle the homework packet.  Each packet contains a letter page.  He has to write the designated letter, draw a picture, and spell a few words that begin with that letter. 

Last week, we had two letter sheets in one packet.  My son went spastic.  “Mom, I can’t do a “D” sheet and a “K” sheet.   It was too much for him.  His little brain couldn’t comprehend why there would be more added to his plate. 

It got me thinking about how we adults do it.  Everyday, we get extra “homework” added to our plates.  But, how do we voice our opinion?  We don’t, usually, and I think this suppression is unhealthy. 

My son doesn’t have these learned behaviors.  He didn’t have any qualms about voicing his belligerent point of view about the extra “K” sheet.  “Nope.  I’m not doing it,” he proclaimed and crossed his arms. 

But, when we get extras added to our plate, we silently acquiesce, thinking it is our shortcoming that we feel negativity toward extra tasks.  Well, if a slightly spoiled six year old can feel affronted about an extra homework sheet, I think we overworked moms with plates spilling over with never ending “to do” lists can voice our opinions once in while.  In fact, I think we need to introduce a new word into our vocabulary – “delegate.”  Yes, someone else may not do the job as well as we could, but they have to learn sometime, and who better to teach them?! 

I feel trapped by tasks that are calling my name.  How did they learn my name, I have to wonder?  But, it is my own sense of liability.  I make them too important and persecute myself if the list is not accomplished. 

But not my son.  He knew the rules, had learned the ritual, and promptly contested what he thought was an unfair “K” sheet.  Yes, he’s spoiled, but he also knows his value…sometimes too much.  He knew this was out of the ordinary and wanted an explanation good enough to warrant his extra devotion to this week’s homework. 

I patiently explained what I thought the teacher was thinking.  He looked dubious and unmoved. 

But, when that homework came home graded I saw those evenly spaced capital “K”s on his sheet and couldn’t help but ask how he got them done. 

He shrugged casually and seemed to have forgotten.  He found a way and didn’t seem any worse for the wear.

“Wow…” I marveled.  If only we moms could be more like our purist children.  We go through hell and back to get things accomplished to meet certain expectations and they go unnoticed.  Yet, here sits my son, chomping on a banana and he doesn’t remember how he got the homework completed.  He makes it look so easy!  A valuable lesson can be learned here… Maybe we need to live more for the moment and not for the expectations…what we think will be the moment.  Think less and live more… Hmmm… now that’s a thought!

Coming Full Circle

Circles are an interesting thing.  As I look back the last couple of days, I notice that circles were all around us, both literally and figuratively.  We untangled circles of Christmas lights from the dead tree in our family room.  We skated in circles as a family at the public skate session.  We sat around a table and ate really good pizzas (which happened to be round) at Dewey’s Pizza.  And we told funny stories in between delicious bites at that restaurant… in a circle. 

The figurative circles are harder to explain.  I think this year will be the year of coming full circle and seeing the other side.  It’s very much like “going around the mountain.”  When you make the trip and see the other side, you end up a changed person.  I see things coming full circle in my job, my extended family, my son, my struggles, and my hopes.  In a lot of ways, those things that have been difficult or confusing have come full circle and though still difficult, seem less painful.  Though the journey might not always be easy or clear, when you get to the other side, you find out it was worth the trip. 

I think I will make this my New Year’s Resolution – to make more circles in life.  In circles, the focus is not on one person.  It is about the group and sharing life together.  In circles, the bond is stronger, the possibilities are endless. 

This year, I also resolve to tread forward in life until I “come full circle.”  In every journey and lesson in life, we don’t know we’ve made it to the end until we see the beginning.  In other words, just by making the journey, we learn what the journey is for and what we are supposed to learn from it.  No matter how difficult the trip or dark the tunnel, we can’t stop treading forward in life until we’ve “come full circle.”  We learn so much about life, ourselves, and the people that we love through circles.   

As I watch my son zip across the ice, I notice that he has come full circle in skating.  He used to stumble and fall a lot more than he does now.  He would get upset and sit on the bench and think it wasn’t possible.  But when he fell, he had to get up again. 

We are the same way.  We will stumble on the journey, fall even, and pout, maybe.  But, we have to get up again. 

Now he flies by us, weaves in and out of groups of people, and doesn’t look back.  He is resolving to get faster and better and he is succeeding. 

Circles are important.  They shed light on the truth.  They are the best cure for loneliness, recipe for success and path of most value. 

I go on many trips.  A trip is from point A to point B.  But, it’s not a journey.  A journey is a circle.  It helps us find the truth and come full circle.  This year, I resolve to do that. 

The Bunny Hills of Life

I took my son skiing for the first time.  On vacation in snow covered Minnesota, we embraced the winter activities.  Bring it on.  Skiing is not my favorite sport; but, in the name of motherhood, I donned the layers of clothing, hat, scarves and mittens and tromped out to the slopes with a very excited 6 year old in tow.  Painstakingly, we grappled with poles and skis and pushed ourselves over to the bunny hill.  "Squat, push, and slide," was my son's first lesson in this detrimental sport.  It took a while for us to get over to the conveyor belt that would take us to the top of the first hill.  I would push him from behind.  He would slide forward and I would slide backwards.  This is going to be a long day, I thought to myself, as his progress was completely dependent on my doubled effort.  Squat, push, slide.  "Don't cross your skis and use your poles" I shouted from behind him.  It took a few tries, but we finally got on the motorized belt.  Still behind him, I directed him to "Bend your knees and lean forward."  Our adventure had started as we slowly creeped up the hill with our poles tucked under our arms.

After one time down the hill, my son quickly mastered this small hill and wanted to move onto bigger hills.  These required ski lifts - a new obstacle to overcome - getting on the moving ski chair. 

My main obstacle was fear for my apparently fearless son.  Again, it took a few tries, but we finally got on.  As the ski lift carried us above the trees, I gripped his arm in a state of suppressed terror while he smiled from ear to ear, swung his legs, and pointed to the next hills he wanted to try.  "Try to be still on the lift," I pleaded as I gripped his arm harder.  We glided off the lift with surprisingly little difficulty and eased down the hill.   

Whoa...he was getting good at this.  "I'm right behind you," I would encourage... and off he would go, like a whiz, zigzagging down the hill.  I chased after him, watching in amazement. 

I realized that my son approaches skiing like we should all approach life.  Try the bunny hill first, but don't be afraid to go to new heights.  While I was perfectly happy to stay on the conveyor belt for the duration, my son was not satisfied.  He enjoyed the new challenges.  He saw others doing it and knew that he could too.  He shouted to the snowboarders below us while we were on the lift, "It's okay.  Get up and try again!"  His first time skiing and he was already chearleading those around him. 

His perspective on skiing was never negative.  He assumed that he was going to get better with each run and did!  He didn't want to take a break.  He didn't get cold.  He was concentrating on the goal and the exhileration of accomplishing new things. 

In new challenges, we may need someone behind us, shouting instructions to "squat, push, or glide," but we should be equally excited about the experiences that await us.  Sometimes, we forget to enjoy the view, look at the trees and realize that this world is really beautiful.   

My son didn't let any of the falls or circumstances, like the freezing rain that started to fall, deter him from his intense desire to succeed.  In fact, failure to him was not an option. 

Too many times, we concentrate on the ways we can fail besides looking ahead at the hills there are left to conquer.  Like the conveyor belt and the ski lift, it may take a few tries, but we will get on, and they will bring us to greater heights if we let them. 

In this winter wonderland, my son was king of the bunny hill.

I continued to be behind him, but after a while, that was just because I wanted to watch how good he was getting, not because he needed me. 

At the end of the day, he saw a little girl skiing down a black diamond hill and said, "Look, she can do that hill!  I can do it!"  Exhausted, I responded, "I have no doubt that you can, but we're going to wait till next year."