Archive for the The Journey Category

We are at the tail end of the Fall birthday celebrations. Our family celebrates 3 birthdays within the span of 3 weeks and that means lots and lots of cake. Cake at school. Cake at home. Cake at work. Okay, so I didn’t actually get cake for my birthday, but a good friend did bring in brownies. And this is why my pants are currently very, very angry with me.

So when a friend of mine asked me to be her accountability partner in her journey to go sugar free for a month, I was very excited. I thought, if she can do it, I can do it too! And then I actually had to do it. Day one was easy for the first few hours until I remembered that I had ordered McArthur’s cake for a partner at work who was celebrating an anniversary. But resisting McArthur’s cake is actually pretty easy for me because if I eat one piece, I am like a shark in bloody water. My eyes roll back in my head, and then I dive head first into the cake and the crumbs starting flying. And since I didn’t want icing in my hair, I abstained.

But just when I thought I was safe, day two threw yet another cake at me. Days three and four threw bagels and cookie cake at me, and day five I was too terrified to leave my cube for fear of encountering an ice cream monster. After all, these kinds of sugary temptations seem to find me no matter how hard I try to avoid them.

Why is it that sometimes it is so easy to avoid sugar, and other times I may as well be swimming in a lake of the white stuff? With all of that said, today we celebrated the birth of my second child. And since I am his mom, he asked me to make him a chocolate cake with chocolate icing. And because I love him and am self-sacrificing that way, I did. And I did not eat a single piece(though half of it is still hanging out in the refrigerator upstairs). You see, I have to put space between myself and the cake or my pants will never forgive me. They have been pretty angry with me this month and I am trying desperately to prove to them that I won’t let them down. And you know we can’t disappoint the pants.

I rode my bike 28 miles this morning. It was a really nice day to soak up the sunshine and breath in some fresh air. And while I really missed church, it was nice to have time to think and reflect and mentally prepare for the week ahead. I have been under a tremendous amount of stress recently at work and I just couldn’t pressure myself to rush through the morning and fight with my children to get out of the door on time to make it to services, and then rush through the cake decorating and birthday festivities. Sometimes I just have to take a break and nourish my body and my soul.

My not-so-little guy hung out with his cousins while I caught up with my fabulous sister. My mother was very kind to let us hold the shenanigans at her home and we just had a really nice time relaxing and eating(or not eating) cake and catching up on all the recent happenings in our world. And I decided that when I grow up I’m going to be just like my sister because even though I’m older, she’s wiser and much cooler than I am–not to mention the best mom on the planet to 5 lovely girls. Hanging out with them just makes me so darn happy.

The good news is that tomorrow is Monday and I have another chance to face temptation and conquer through it. And thank goodness we don’t celebrate another birthday until the end of January!

Today was a really tough day for several reasons. I am learning new responsibilities at work that stretch my brain, and under deadlines that must be met with no flexibility. I have been anxious and afraid that I will fail to fulfill my obligations. Anxiety feeds hunger and hunger makes me cranky. Also, it wasn’t even 9:00am when I saw the candy bowl. It was one of those nice, big, Halloween plastic contraptions filled with a variety of beautiful, horrible, miniature candy bars. I “turned the other cheek” as they say, but the bowl haunted me every time I walked past it. I may have put a mental hex on the person who put it there, but I’m not admitting to anything publicly.

Because of my workload I’ve had to cancel 3 lunches with friends this week, which means I have not had my fill of social interaction. My friends frequently make work tolerable and without them, I feel like “all work and no play makes Margaret seriously stressed out.” So it was that I came home at 6:00pm and began to prepare a home-cooked dinner. That’s right! No fast food for us. And because of recent pay cuts in our home we can’t afford to eat at a restaurant. I’m not complaining because there are people out there who don’t have food in their tummies and are crying themselves to sleep. But suffice to say, I was/am tired and cooking was the very last thing I wanted to do.

In the midst of preparing the meal my youngest child was expressing his affection for me by hollering, whining and jumping around like Tigger on steroids. I felt like someone was whapping me with a ping pong paddle, but alas it was only my child whiny/wailing, “Mommy, I love you! Mommy I need a hug! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” And it sounds so sweet on paper, and it really was, because all that commotion meant he missed me today. But my fragile mental state just couldn’t tolerate his affectionate gyrations and so I locked myself in the bathroom until he calmed down so I didn’t have to resort to the Three Stooges Eye Doink of Doom.

So here I am sitting down for the first stress-free moments of my day–a full 14.5 hours after I woke up. And, just, wow! So this is my life. 20 minutes of peace before I get to go to bed and do it all over again tomorrow.

And so I decided to spent ten of those moments grounding myself for what is sure to be an extremely demanding day tomorrow. I want to encourage others who are dealing with stress and bills and frenetic family members insisting on immediate and undiluted attention. Even when filled with insanity by way of business, I still think my life is precious and lovely and filled with inestimable grace. I am sincerely thankful for a God who sees me frazzled and broken, and esteems me as brave and beautiful. And in all honesty, because He lives, I can face tomorrow, even if it is twice as crazy as today was.

I rest in the knowledge that I am loved and cherished. I take solace because I know God is for me, even when the world conspires to tear me down. I know that I am held in the strong arms of the maker of the stars and the equally mysterious human soul. And today, despite the stress, my soul finds rest in Him. Tonight I will lay down and sleep in peace, for he truly does make me dwell in safety.

Psalm 46:1-7

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.
Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
The Lord Almighty is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress.

You may have thought you were safe. You may have been minding your own business and humming through life blissfully unaware that a fowl creature was hiding in the bushes. And then with a humongous roar,

the Birthday Monster jumped out and whomped you in the face. Maybe you were so content in your perfectly calibrated life that you didn’t feel his paws smacking you about the face. And then one day you crawled out of bed and looked in the mirror and saw a haggard old biddy staring back at you. Yep. That was him. He’s evil that one. And sneaky. And no one is immune to his attacks.

The evolution of the birthday monster intrigues me. When one is young, he is a faithful friend. He is cute and promises all kinds of wonderful delights.

When I was little he delivered Barbie dolls and roller skates. As I got older, he brought delightful pets and a license to drive. Never in my wildest dreams did I envision that the happy, peppy Birthday Monster would turn evil and gift such agonies as wiry gray hair, crow’s feet and, most wickedly of all, arthritis.

The Birthday Monster must die.

There I’ve said it. I hate him. He is just awful. And since asking him politely to cease and desist isn’t working, I’m hatching a plot to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. And with great gusto. The problem is he is as elusive as Bigfoot. I can see his footprints, but getting my hands around his slippery throat has heretofore been impossible.

The funny thing is, I caught a glimpse of him this past Saturday. I was lying in bed when my youngest son crept into my room and whispered, “Mom. It’s my birthday. I’m eight!” Then he hugged me and danced out of the room. I saw the birthday monster’s tail swaying in the doorway as he followed my child. I might have been fast enough to grab it, but I’m still recovering from the walloping he gave me last year. Darn BM. (Yes, I’m abbreviating from here on out because bowel movements and birthday monsters stink and the abbreviation seems appropriate).

Still, my little guy is enthralled with the BM. He was chattering endlessly about the wonderful gifts that would soon be in his possession and before you can “birthday breakfast” I was trying to level set his expectations. Between his vision of Minecraft Lego towers and my pocketbook lay a gap more treacherous than the Royal Gorge. And so I gently explained that giving gifts is much more fun than receiving gifts, and—by the way—was he getting me anything cool for my birthday? He puzzled over this question for some time before delivering his final answer.

And I wasn’t completely shocked by his reply. You see, even though he still sees the happy, peppy BM and not the fanged devil I’ve come to know and loathe, disappointment is a frequent gift I’ve gotten used to over the years.

We went to Six Flags for his birthday and it was wonderful. The cute BM was in evidence as we experienced my son’s first time on a roller coaster. While he was waving his hands in the air and laughing, I remembered why I never, ever climb aboard such infernal contraptions. While the BM was tickling my child, he was tormenting me. With each hill I experienced the sensation of possibly losing my lunch and displacing my spine at the same time. I can’t imagine why any well-meaning adult would torture themselves regularly in such a manner, but obviously Six Flags profits heavily off such creatures. Obviously the BM and Six Flags are in collusion. Oh the humanity!

My little guy was intent on riding The Batman ride but my husband put his foot down. He was certain that death (or permanent discombobulation) would occur and so we left the park kicking and screaming. And that is where we had fun kicking the BM in the gonads. Take that sucker! And I enjoyed pummeling him and his idiotic idea of fun while I stifled the urge to baptize my car in vomit. And maybe that is when my child saw the BM for what he really is, pure and undiluted evil. Promising happiness and delivering reality. And I really think I’m a fantastic parent for unveiling the monster and not perpetuating the myth. Score one for mom!

Okay, so I did feel a little guilty. And the BM was looking rather sheepish there for about 30 seconds, and so I consented and baked a birthday cake. If you are a regular reader of this blog you may think that I got creative and made a sugar-free cake. You would be wrong. My husband likes to inflict cruel and unusual punishment by way of dessert and so I was cajoled into preparing a white flour, double chocolate “devil’s food” cake with all requisite sugar baked in for exemplary texture, flavor and calories. And while I waved the magic healthy wand and somehow convinced my child that his birthday cake did not need icing, that did not satisfy the BM. And so it was that he convinced me that I could eat just one piece. And so I did. And then that darn Birthday Monster bit me and refused to let go until I had eaten exactly 5 pieces of that infernal cake. And I hate him. I hate him to death.

Birthday Monsters visit our house in pairs. So while my son’s visit was Saturday, mine is Thursday. And let me tell you, I’m trying desperately to get ready. This morning I did my strength training and if it was possible to crunch the BM away, it’s done. But alas, that dratted BM is crafty. No matter how much I exercise or eat right, he always has some excuse or explanation that will unwittingly disarm me into imbibing some sugary confection that is wholly poisonous to my body. So I’m not going to divulge my strategy here. Let me just say this, BM, I have you in my sights. And this year, if I have anything to say about it, you are going down.