Volume Control

For a girl who sets the timer on the dishwasher so as not to hear it, and a girl who keeps the television at mice-like-decibels; a girl who goes into a different part of the house when the washer/dryer are running, and a girl who thinks that taking a bath would be perfect if only the water didn't make so much noise... it has been a noisy year.

I've turned up the volume.

And then?

Bought new speakers so as to make it even louder.

And then?

Bought a mega bass to amplify the commotion.

2009 has been deafening.

A welcome sound in my new journey.

Noise.

Racket.

Clammer.

Turmolt.

Commotion.

Anything to keep me from...

Listening.

Feeling.

Healing.

Facing.

Owning.

So, 2010, here we are.

You and me.

Deejay's not playing the same song.

2010 -- Resolve.

Mute.

Time to mute the clamor. Say no. Disappoint.

Walk away. Let go. Close doors.

Disc Select.

Select you. Select one. Select calm. Select quiet. Select games, crafts, laughing, reading, cuddling, patience, joy.

Pause.

Pause. Be patient. Wonder. Pray. Reflect. Slow down... slow it down girl.

Repeat.

Then do it again. Slower. With more kindness. Kindness for the girl you once were, the woman you are yet to become.

Shuffle.

Have fun. Shake it up. Relax. Dance. Smile. Play.

Source.

Get to know your source. YOUR source. YOUR soul. YOUR God. YOUR strength. YOUR peace.

Praying for a quiet melody in 2010.

Why I'm Sitting on the Couch on a Beautiful Day

Dear Parents of Little Surf-Rat Toddler,

Do you have any idea just how cute I find your baby girl? With her 18-24 months skinny jeans, her checkered vans, and her silky, pink hoody? Clearly, you know she's cute. Clearly, she knows you know she's cute. And clearly this little peanut is winning battles at home. Her wispy bed-headed hair all tricked out with hints of, "No, dat my hay-er mama." "No bwush my hay-er." I just loved her instantly.

Which is why I scooped her up from the eight-kicking-legs of four-swinging-children at varying speeds and intervals. Twice. Her little diaper-padded, skinny jeaned bottom was toddling in a game of swing Frogger, and how she survived without getting cartoon-jettisoned over the monkey bars is beyond me. Which is why I toted her on my hip for a moment while I searched for the parent who must have been having a major emergency elsewhere with her other darling children.

Searching for the owner of the toddler, and pushing my own two kiddos on the swing, I carefully placed Little Miss Surfer Baby in a kinder spot on the playground. Until, she came back to the spider legs of the swings.

Scooping her up, again as her hair is grazed by a giant pumping of the feet, where is your mommy?, I ask?

Dat. Bah. La-lee-fing, she says (or something like that).

Dude, where is this kids' mommy? I wonder.

I begrudgingly place her down again near the slide, fearful of looking like some kidnapper. When sure enough a school-aged boy playing a game of I'm not watching where I'm running smacks straight into my new little surfer friend.

And...cue concerned parent. Here you come. Racing (well, trying to race in your Victoria's Secret lace-up ankle boots) to her rescue.

And cue...dirty look. To me. WTH?

And cue...me wondering if it was your Blackberry or your stilettos in the sand that impeded your graceful parenting.

And cue...school aged kids' mom getting a mouthful of why weren't you watching your kid as he bulldozed over my baby?

And cue...jaw-dropping of school aged kids' mom.

And cue...me convincing the kids that watching Sponge Bob, at home is way more fun than swinging.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like...CPS

This time of year can be very stressful for parents. We're shopping, and driving, and parking, and baking. We wrap, we clean, we eat, we gather, we plan, we host, we create. We keep the myth of Santa alive. We move elves from room-to-room. We forget to move elves from room-to-room. We send cards, take photos, hang cards, forget to take photos. We stand in line, entertain, buy stamps, buy wrapping paper, buy more wrapping paper, and remind children of the true nature of the season.

And all through it, we d-r-a-g our patient little ones from place to place so that we may better spread our Christmas cheer.

So when threats run out, and elves aren't watching, and you have to go back to the supermarket for the 15twentieth time...you might want to try a little trick involving, oh, say...shackling your children like the prisoners they are, and chaining their hineys to the cart.

Case in point:

Two Willing Participants

A little bit of (toy) chain.

One cart.

God only knows what they're doing here.

Voila: One happy mama (and a friendly neighbor in disgust admiration).

My mad parenting skillz worked tonight, yo.

My Grateful Heart

Part of the Journey

A loving person

lives in

a loving world.

A hostile person

lives in

a hostile world.

Everyone you meet

is your mirror.

-Ken Keyes Jr.

Handbook to Higher Consciousness

Success is a journey

not a destination -

half the fun is getting there.

-Gita Bellin