Month: November 2019

Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday— I had an impromptu coffee with two of my best friends after working out Saturday morning. It was a mini Friendsgiving!

Sunday— The Tots tried out Sunday School, and they loved it. They made thankful trees, where they expressed their gratitude for things such as family, friends, Gatorade and Cheez Its. 

Monday— Our neighbor’s tree has turned a brilliant shade of red. It looks like a ragged ruby shooting out of the ground. Beautiful!

Tuesday— I spotted nine mallards having what can best be described as a duck party in the pond at Davidson’s Roosevelt Park during my morning run. 

Wednesday— Margot made us matching BFF necklaces after we baked. Love my sweet girl so much. 

Thursday— John, The Tots and I ran the Angels & Sparrows 5K with some of our dearest friends. That and watching The Macy’s Day Parade with my family are my favorite Thanksgiving traditions. 

Friday— I heard Erasure’s Chains of Love on the way home from the Y this morning. It reminds me of my high school crew — forever friendships. 

Happy week!

I broke my own rule the other day. Talk to me long enough and you’ll learn that I have all kinds of rules for myself that don’t make any sense whatsoever when they’re spoken out loud. For example, I won’t eat a snack at the movies until the actual movie starts. I won’t let a pole, fence or rail come between me and the person I’m walking with for fear that it represents something coming between our friendship, and I only wear black when I’m working out. (Okay, I’m starting to bend on that last one because I found a sweet jumpsuit at Target recently that was, you guessed it, black.)

            The truth is I’m bending a lot of my own rules lately, and it’s probably a good thing, as no one deserves to live under my self-created tyranny. The decree that I flat out crushed the other day was my Christmas music rule. As someone who adores Thanksgiving and feels that the holiday is slowly but surely being swallowed by a giant elf, I don’t intentionally listen to Christmas music until the day after Thanksgiving. (The same goes for Christmas movies, although I caved the other day and watched Santa Girl on Netflix, which was pretty good on the cheesy holiday movie scale even though the Jack Frost character was super creepy.)

            Anyway, in an effort to keep 2019 on its “didn’t see that coming” trajectory, I threw my Christmas music rule out the window and cranked up a holiday mix on my computer the other night. As I sat in my office nestled beside my space heater, I felt a little bit at peace. It felt so good that I wondered why I ever had this stupid rule in the first place, but I know why. 

            I like anticipation. I like looking forward to things just as much as the actual things — sometimes more. (This is why Amazon Prime is deadly to my bank account. For a whole day I get to look forward to getting something I don’t need and probably don’t want arriving. Good thing the UPS store is at the end of the street for returns.) The same is true with vacations. I love planning and dreaming about what I’m going to do when I go out of town much more than actually going out of town. 

            That said, you can see why looking forward to Christmas is a big deal to me. And for me, the day that the excitement is most pronounced is the day before Thanksgiving. It’s like standing at the edge of the pool preparing to jump in. You know the temperature will be cold initially, but you also know how fun it will be to frolic around in the water. 

            The day before Thanksgiving is much the same. Sure, the holidays will be stressful and exhausting, and it’s a given that someone you’re related to is going to say something ridiculous — more than once. However, you also know how fun it is to sing Christmas songs in the car, wear a goofy Santa hat, drive around looking at twinkling lights and watch A Charlie Brown Christmas for the 50^th time. (I’ll never grow tired of Linus saying “lights please” before he recites the Christmas story.) It’s a big swirl of red and green cheer, and though it can be messy, it’s the best way I can think of to wrap up the year, especially this one. 

            I know that the holidays are going to be hard for my family this season and the seasons to come. A big part of me wants to fly to an island for Thanksgiving where the only turkey is on a club sandwich at the bar, but that’s not how it’s going to play out. Instead, I’m taking my favorite day of the year minute by minute, even though some of those minutes might make me cry. I have to remember that even though we’ve lost so much this past year, we’ve gained a lot of goodness and for that I’m grateful.

            So on Wednesday, I’m going to play Christmas music as I prepare for Thanksgiving. It’s my new rule, and I have no plans on breaking it anytime soon.  

            Weekly Winks is back after a small hiatus. I did some soul searching about Weekly Winks and decided that it is indeed a good idea to list these every week in the hopes of reiterating goodness in my life and inspiring you to see the goodness in your own. 

            So, here we go. Every Friday I share the Winks of Goodness I experienced throughout the week because I’ve found that writing down and formally acknowledging these suckers gives them more power. I encourage you to share your own Weekly Winks on my site or on social media. Look around and write it down — share the goodness.   

Saturday— We watched Mr. Mom as a family on Saturday night. I love anything that John Hughes wrote, and this is one of his best. Yes, there were a couple of scenes that weren’t so appropriate for children (what were our parents thinking in the ’80s?), but we glossed over those and enjoyed the movie. The Tots are even quoting some of the funny parts. 

Sunday— I went to church by myself. Don’t get me wrong, I love going with John and The Tots, but it was nice to sit alone and take everything in. The sermon was about doing things to make the world a better place instead of just complaining about anything and everything on social media. I left inspired, and I haven’t been on social media hardly at all this week. 

Monday— I loved watching The Tots at their first official basketball practice. This is new ground for both of them (and for John and I), and I’m so proud of them for going outside of their comfort zone. Extra props to sweet Margot, as she is the only girl on the team. Girl power!

Tuesday— Graydon insisted on pouring my coffee this morning. 

Wednesday— Saw a set of boy/girl twins (around 2 years old) at the Y jump out of their stroller so they could push it themselves. So grateful to be a twin mom!

Thursday—Five bluebirds landed on the football field at Davidson College as I ran around the track. Today marks three months since mom passed away, and I know she sent a bluebird to each of us (me, dad, John and The Tots) to remind us that we’re still alive and need to get on with things. 

Friday— This morning, Jefferson, one of our two tabby cats, insisted on four belly rub sessions instead of the standard two. I respect his perseverance and the fact that he has no difficulty relating his needs to others. We should all be more like him. 

Happy week!

My husband surprised me the other day with a white noise machine. Keep in mind that this is not just a white noise machine. Nope, this is a Big Red Rooster 6 Sound White Noise Machine. I had no idea what a game changer this little piece of magic would be until John pushed the “on” button. Suddenly we could slumber to the sounds of a babbling brook, the roaring ocean, sporadic thunder, gentle rain, literal white noise or crickets chirping on a summer night — as if getting out of bed wasn’t hard enough for me already. 

            We had talked about getting one, but like a lot of things, the idea got pushed to the outer skirts of our radar by more pressing issues such as purchasing a new Crock-Pot, finding a basketball league for The Tots, and swapping out our Halloween décor for Thanksgiving swag. Regardless, I’m glad John took the initiative to swipe the “Buy it Now” tab on Amazon so that this wonderful machine could join our home. It fits in nicely with my “sensory recovery program,” which John knew nothing about. 

            Truth be told, it’s not an official program, but the more I practice recognizing what my senses (all five of them) are experiencing, the happier I am, and the beautiful part is that the smallest things get their attention. 

            For example, we’ve used the same laundry detergent since The Tots were two years old. John mentioned the other day that we should try something else. (This is bizarre coming from a man who has never worn cologne or aftershave, scoffs at scented candles, and is not in charge of the laundry.) Regardless, I went with it and selected a detergent with a tropical scent because our family isn’t going anywhere tropical anytime soon for a host of reasons. 

            I figured this new scent would transport us to a magical place (think Calgon bath powder ad from the 1980s) as we (me) folded our freshly washed clothes. One minute I would be matching socks and the next I would be basking on a beach, complete with a beloved breeze and fruity drink. Okay, so my new detergent didn’t beam me to St. John while I scraped the lent out of the dryer, but it was a nice change, and change is not a bad thing right now. 

            Weeks ago a friend of mine told me to do something different for the holidays to help ease the pain of not having mom here. I know she’s right because I was hit with a land mine of grief at Target the other day. It began innocently enough. I was heading to the pet department to buy collars for our two cats, who refuse to wear collars for extended periods of time. (Seriously, these little guys need to figure out a video for YouTube to support their lost collar habit.)    

            Anyway, the pet section is beside the Christmas section, and, of course Target had Christmas music blaring throughout the tree display. Suddenly my eyes welled up when I realized that Christmas was going to take place regardless of the fact that my mom is dead. I couldn’t believe Christmas had the audacity to do that. I quickly did not find what I needed and got out of there, knowing that this is a sign of what’s to come. 

            You never know what will trigger grief, but Thanksgiving and Christmas offer a lot of material. That’s why embracing the positive experiences of my senses is crucial right now — or any time really. The other night I pulled out the soft robe I bought for the hospital when I gave birth to the twins. I snuggled in it as I watched Mr. Mom with my family. John made homemade soup in our new Crock-Pot this past Sunday, and I savored the smell of it just as much as its delicious taste.

            And then there’s our beloved white noise machine. As the crickets sing their song, I go back to summer nights at Lake Tillery, where I smell freshly cut grass, hear the water lapping against the pier and see my mom playing cards at the kitchen bar. It’s a nice place to go for the holidays, even if I can’t stay there. 

            I love it when my week surprises me with a theme, and last week’s theme was closed doors. It all began on Monday when I arrived early for a meeting in Greensboro. To kill time, I drove over to the UNC Greensboro campus. Though I graduated from UNC Chapel Hill, I began my college career at UNC Greensboro — reluctantly. (For more in-depth information on this, read the It’s Not That Hard entry from March 2019.) 

            The short version of the story is that I didn’t get into Chapel Hill as a freshman, and the only other school that I applied to was UNC Greensboro. I’m 99 percent sure my less-than-stellar SAT score kept me from being a Tar Heel initially, but after years of being ashamed of that and even hiding it, here it is, folks, I bombed the SAT. 

            Back to Monday. As I stopped my minivan in front of my freshman dorm, I thought about the girl who was in that dorm 29 years ago listening to mixed tapes while trying to grow out her bangs. How crazy it would be to have a conversation with her. I would definitely tell her to proceed with growing out her bangs, but that’s about it because I wouldn’t want to spoil the adventure she was embarking on. I wouldn’t tell her to avoid anything because the good and the bad in her future are going to work together to get her where she needs to be. 

            I had two great years at UNC Greensboro despite wrestling with an eating disorder/nervous breakdown my sophomore year. Looking back, I realize that I wasn’t ready for Chapel Hill as a freshman, so fate placed me where I could grow to become ready. (Who knows? If I would have started at Chapel Hill, I might have dropped out. I might even still have bangs.) 

            I was reminded of this when I gave my Scenic Route talk on Thursday to three leadership classes at the high school of my children’s school. My talk is all about having the resiliency and determination to open closed doors. If there is one resounding theme in my career journey as a writer, it is opening doors that at times seemed nailed shut.  

            The idea is to give these young people insight into what good and bad leadership looks like, while also giving them real world advice. I hope these students get at least half as much as I get by giving the talk. It’s not that I like to talk about myself, and it’s not that this is a talk about my accomplishments. It’s that going through my career play by play out loud reminds me of how far I’ve come (being compensated for an internship with free parking and a grilled chicken sandwich) and how far I still have to go (I so want to write at least one book). 

            Maybe it’s super narcissistic, but I inspire myself when I talk about the young girl who quit a lucrative sales job to make $100 a week as an editorial assistant just to get her foot in the door of a magazine. The current trampled version of myself needs that girl to come back and open some new doors. I know she’s in there; she just needs a little coaxing. One way to coax the coaxing is to talk with friends who have good perspective, which is exactly what happened Friday morning. 

            A good friend of mine has been training for a strenuous race that’s offered once a year. The race fills up online in minutes, so she knew she had to sign up immediately. Even though she tried her best, she didn’t get a slot. At first she was terribly disappointed and down, but within two hours she reframed the situation and felt better about it. She kept saying that she believed in closed doors. 

            Though I had never phrased it that way, my whole life is built around that belief, and it’s not a bad way to live. If something doesn’t turn out the way you planned, look at the remaining variables and chart a new path. Look under the debris for Winks of Goodness because I promise you that they are there.

Every time I’ve done this in my life, the end result is better that I could have ever imagined. Yes, there are painful setbacks and gargantuan challenges. Yes, there are times when you want to stay in bed with your cats, preferably with the covers over all of your heads, but I know from experience that these times make for better people and certainly better stories. 

            That said, I’m jumping back into the driver’s seat to continue my journey on the scenic route. Sure, there will be potholes, sharp turns and detours, but the trip is well worth it.