Sabbathing, Kelly-Style

In an attempt to live a more peaceful existence, I am committing to incorporate a weekly Sabbath into my life. It’s either that or Xanax Smoothies for breakfast. Truly. I generally am so thinly spread because of lifestyle choices I’ve made, so I tend to enter the week from a state of exhaustion and depletion. Not good.

I have felt strongly that a Sabbath is a step that God wants me to take in this New Year. A weekly Day Of Rest. How very kind of Him! Because that is exactly what my body and soul has been craving. A day to pause. Breathe. Relax. Not run around like a crazy banty chicken. And it actually is a Commandment, is it not? So I am going to try to practice a Sabbath every Saturday from sunrise to sundown.

Today was my first attempt at a Sabbath. I lingered with a cup of coffee and the paper. I made a tranquil trip to the library. I took a nap with my cat. Read. Had a “sword fight” my youngest. Wrote. Puttered around. Exercised. But I kept wondering, “Am I doing this right?” What exactly should I do or not do? I wanted my Sabbath to be executed in faultless fashion. Was it wrong that I made my bed? Blow-dried my hair? Cleaned up cat vomit?? The good Pioneer folks in the “Little House” books of my childhood practiced the Sabbath by reading the Bible in straight-backed chairs and eating cold salt pork. Should I be doing that?

The perfectionist in me is rearing her ugly head and I am feeling a compulsion to study a Sabbath tutorial. Although…….the sun is beginning to go down and my Sabbath is nearing an end……and I am feeling rested…..refreshed…..refilled. Almost ready to jump-start my busy week tomorrow. So perhaps I Sabbathed correctly?

Some Random Facts About Me

Just for my blog for fun today....
1.) I am generally happy and positive by nature.
2.) I love to people watch, and make up stories about them.
3.) When I was a little girl, I pretended to be twins during a two-week vacation and had all the other resort patrons fooled.
4.) I always wanted to marry someone like my grandfather, and I did.
5.) I have a brother who is a Jesuit priest.
6.) My three children were adopted from Latin America, so I feel a strong spiritual connection to Latina women.
7.) I write with my left hand, and do everything else with my right.
8.) I make homemade spaghetti sauce every Monday, while listening to opera music.
9.) I wasn’t allowed to have pets as a child, so I bought houseplants and named them. Now I live with a “zoo.”
10.) I struggle with people who are rude and insensitive.
11.) My inner-circle friends are significantly younger than I.
12.) I eat odd things for breakfast, like jalapeno cheese poppers.
13.) I never go anywhere without makeup on.
14.) I stay in toxic relationships for far too long. (But I'm growing in that area.)
15.) My dream is to become a published author, and I have two “ideas” in the works right now.
16.) I am neat and organized, but have three sloppy kids. Go figure.
17.) People tell me I’m a very good listener.
18.) My favorite vacation place is Hilton Head, SC. I’ve been going there since I was nine years old. I need an “ocean fix” annually.
19.) Seeing the world is a high value to me, and I’ve been to at least thirteen other countries.
20.) My favorite color is Wedgewood blue. It makes me feel tranquil.
21.) My favorite adult drink is a Dirty Martini.
22.) I love French Country everything.
23.) I would rather spend my money on purses than shoes.
24.) I sometimes cheated on math tests when I was in high school.
25.) Every January, I choose one Bible verse to “live in” for the year.

Celebrations

We had a little party on Tuesday night, because there is nothing I love more than a good party. My kids and I were the only ones in attendance, because Super Hubs was working late. It was Inauguration Day, and I floated around in an optimistic Pink-Tinged Cloud of Hopeful for our country. And The Teens had their last finals, which they survived and I survived, without even a flare-up of my childhood ulcer. So it was a beautiful day, all in all, and I wanted to channel my Overflowing With Positivity Feelings and use them for good in the lives of my children. (Plus I had an uber hankering for pot stickers and sesame beef.)

We ordered cocktails (kiddy ones for my kiddies and a teeny chardonnay for moi). And when they came, we had a toast to New Semesters and New Administrations and New Beginnings in general. I took great pleasure in our meal, not because it was particularly sensational, but because of the way The Teens relax and open up and talk to me when they are satiated with restaurant food. It’s magical the way that happens. I cherish every fabulous moment, along with every fabulous bite.

To Culvers or Bust

I had plans to serve chili for dinner last night. But Little Squirt came home from kindergarten asking if we could go to Culvers. He begged for a Culvers dinner, insisted on a Culvers dinner, which I found odd, as we hardly ever eat at Culvers. As I resisted, he began crying that his teacher would be there, and all his friends would be there, and he wanted to be there, too. Huh?? Little Squirt is not often the embodiment of clarity, so I dug through the mass of papers in his backpack looking for a reason for his persistence. I found a note that said 10% of all sales at Culvers that evening would go to his school. Ahhhh. The light dawned.

So we went to dine at Culvers last night, as apparently did every other family from Little Squirt’s school. A sea of people swarmed over every table. My family stalked and hovered and lingered strategically throughout the restaurant until I spied a table vacancy. I leap- frogged over 6 tables to grab it, while Super Hubs went up to order food, and Little Squirt wandered around greeting classmates like a rock star. Then we gorged on hamburgers and chicken and fries, which were served by various teachers and the school principal.

I cherish those somewhat spontaneous family times; a break from normalcy; the five of us laughing over the charming chaos of our dining experience. And Little Squirt was ecstatic that he was able to see his teacher. And eat a gummy bear ice cream sundae, which made the event all the more joyous for him.

Misery Loves Company

Brrrrrr. It’s bitter cold here. Arctic. Sub-zero. The temps have not gotten above the negatives in 48 hours. I kid you not. It’s been record-breaking. It was colder here yesterday than it was at the North Pole. I am not making that up. It is a fact, according to Tom Skilling, our trusty weatherman. It was –21 this morning. –21!! I’ve lived in Chicagoland since I was 5, and I cannot remember it ever being this freezing.

The schools have been closed for two days straight. On Day#1 of School Closings it was mildly exciting, and I had rose-colored fantasies of our family playing board games by the fire in our pjs while eating homemade caramel corn. Our day didn’t unfold exactly that way, but it was peaceful, nonetheless. Now it is Day#2 and we are ready to kill each other. We must see the mercury rise higher, or it will not be pretty around here.

My boys and I threw hot water into the air off the back deck after breakfast, and watched it sprinkle down as snow. And that was it for my scientific entertainment. It was all the energy I could muster. This forced-hibernation is making me lazy and sluggish and causing me to spend long hours wasting time on Facebook; browsing through acquaintances’ pictures and looking up long-lost high school friends. But in an attempt to be productive, I’m also cooking soups and reading good books and cleaning out messy drawers. Nevertheless, I’m going stir-crazy.

Thank the dear Lord for friends that are willing to meet me for dinner or drinks, despite the horridly frigid temps. I would never have survived the long winters as a 19th Century Prairie Wife, with no other log cabins in close proximity! Honestly. I would have gone insane. Thankfully I can share my cold-weather misery with my mutually gloomy besties, and we can bond in our desolation. It’s a beautiful thing.

Maalox Much?

It’s Finals Week for The Teens, and I may not survive to tell you about it in its entirety. Hence this post at finals’ beginning, lest I am in my grave by the week’s end.

I don’t know exactly why, but Finals Week is evoking unsettling feelings in me. Feelings that I don’t care for. Feelings that are not my friends. Feelings with names like Anxiety. Panic. Terror. I could be a guest for a Dr. Phil episode: “Mothers Without Boundaries.” Shall I Freud a little and excavate my past? I was a good, conscientious Honor Roll student in high school, but the pressure to perform perfectly in my family was so great that I developed an ulcer in junior high. Not fun. Chugging down the Maalox while memorizing the Periodic Table.

Then there’s Rock Star, my freshman. These are his first finals. And he just doesn’t care. He’s as laid-back as a dental chair. So I have to care for him and micromanage his studying, while being careful not to turn into my own Control Freak Mother. I try to tread gently. “Honey, maybe you should start studying now? Turn off the X-Box and crack open a book?? Just a thought, baby.” I fed him mega-grams of protein for breakfast to try to jump-start his brain: A two-egg cheese omelet, half a sausage pizza and a handful of cashews. Plus a protein-boost water bottle. Is that overkill?? And this afternoon, God help me, after asking once....no, twice....no, three times if he had all the study guides he needed for his English Lit. final tomorrow (in which he answered, yes, yes, a thousand yeses) he realized at 3:30 that he didn’t have all the study guides he needed for his English Lit. final tomorrow. Ahhhhh!!!! So, in a stunt worthy of The Amazing Race, Butterfly drove him back over to school where he ran through the hall, leaped over two garbage cans in a single bound and slid into his locker, madly turning the lock and tearing through papers until he found the study guides he needed just before school closed for the day.

So while my teens are studying, I am trying to channel my anxiety into positive energy. I am working-out like Jane Fonda on Dexedrine. And organizing drawers and closets. And feeding my kids more protein. But I’m starting to feel a gnawing in the lining of my stomach again. Hmmmm……..

Not For The Faint Of Heart

While drinking my coffee this morning, I got a simple text message from Rock Star. “U coming?” He was at a wrestling meet in a town 45 minutes away, and we were in the midst of a snowstorm. Eight inches was predicted. No, we hadn’t planned on coming. But if our son wanted us, needed us, by golly, we’d hitch up our dachshund to the dog sled and be there! (Not really. Our dog would never do that. He’s as lazy as they come and built like an overdone bratwurst.) “We’ll be there!” I texted back merrily. A simple reply came back: “Bring Subway.”

So we loaded up the minivan and set off through the snowy wild. This could be fun! On Prancer! On Vixen! The more we drove, the more ferocious the blizzard. The car slipped and slid all over the unplowed icy roads, because this is the Midwest in January. And the state of IL is never prepared for snow. Our officials are always taken completely by surprise, and don’t begin sending out the snowplows until March. The Big Guys that are in charge of snow removal have never heard of The Weather Channel and apparently don’t look out the window. (We also have embarrassingly buffoonish governors, as an aside. If you are considering a move to the state of IL, heed my advice: Don’t.) But I digress.

The white-knuckled drive took an hour of Scary Near Death Experiences, and then a pit stop to Subway to pick up proper protein for Rock Star. But it was all worth it, when we finally arrived at the high school and saw how much Rock Star appreciated his Subway. We, his Loving Family, were dismissed with a nod toward the bleachers. Tossed aside like garbage for a Roast Beef Minus Mustard and Onions.

And then I watched in horror. Boys in less attire than Tarzan were tussling on the mats, holding each other in headlocks and looking fit to snap vertebrae. They bent themselves in pretzel-like positions, limbs flaying every which way. The nurse in me was aghast. The mother in me was horrified. I couldn’t watch. I was too full of angst. I had to leave the gym and eat nachos and text a few friends. If there’d been a bar within walking range, I’d have indulged in a soothing glass of wine. When it was Rock Star’s match, I closed my eyes and prayed.

But he survived and did well. And I survived. But did not do well. It was excruciating for me. It ranked up there with watching my daughter break up with her long-term boyfriend. There are many things I do really well. Being a Wrestling Mom is not one of them, I discovered today.

Chinese Takeout, Anyone?

I cook dinner at least 5 nights a week. Usually 6. Good meals. I’m not a Culinary Slacker; heating up a frozen pizza and calling it repast. I make roasts, casseroles, soups, pastas and plain old meat ‘n potatoes. It’s not easy trying to please my family of 5! But I try, Lord knows. I’ll labor weekly by scanning my cookbooks, asking for kid-input, and trying to be creative. Cooking is a joy and a love language for me. On the good days, which is more often than not.

Then again, there are the evenings when I wonder why I bother. Like tonight. I made a tasty sausages-and-beans dish in the crock pot to be served with crusty bread and a salad. Butterfly waved a hasty good-bye and headed out to have dinner with a friend.
Rock Star took one look at the meal, and heated up a frozen chicken patty.
So I dished a spoonful onto the plate of Little Squirt, who scrunched up his nose and said, “Looks like vomit.”

(Big fat sigh of martyrdom.) I’m just grateful for the hearty appetite of Super Hubs.

1001??

“Ramona The Pest” was my Hook Book. Mrs. Edwards, my beloved second grade teacher, read it aloud to the class. I would catch the eye of my BFF, Kim, from across the classroom, and we’d giggle together over Ramona’s antics. I equally loved “The Little House’ series, and “Pippi Longstocking.” Books began to captivate me.

My mother, a voracious reader with an English Lit. degree, raised me on the finest of classics. She introduced me to the “Anne of Avonlea” series, “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm” and “The Secret Garden.” I read “Little Women” four times before I left for college.

Nancy Drew and I had a fast friendship all through my childhood. She was my youthful perception of the ideal teenager: Pretty, smart, brave, kind, and a possessing a killer car. And her boyfriend was pretty hot. I collected 52 of her books, and they still decorate the top of one of my bookshelves; yellow spines in remarkably decent shape. Nancy was my hook into mysteries, and they’ve been my preferred genre for 30 years. Although I have since graduated to Sue Grafton novels, Nancy will remain my favorite crime heroine.

As a little girl, I ready anywhere I could: In the car, on the bus, in the bathtub, curled up sideways in the pink-flowered living room chair. During summers, I’d take my current book to “The Tree”, an old willow friend whose branches cradled me over a creek as comfortably as a lazy-boy.

I am still an insatiable reader, although I often stare helplessly at the abundant library shelves with an annoying case of Author Amnesia. What to choose? Who wrote that book a friend recommended? What was the name of that author I liked??

But I just acquired a book called, “101 Books For Every Mood.” It’s a guide to all kinds of books of all sorts of genres. Confusion Be Gone! One of my goals for the New Year is to take more time to read good books. So I’m hoping this guide will help.

I’ll let you know if I read anything truly fascinating!

Simplicity Is Mine In '09

Here I am, at the top of ’09. Another year gone. Another year that I am older. Another year that I am wiser? Possibly crazier?? Historically I have embraced The New Year! I love mornings, clean slates, do-overs. Fresh beginnings.

In the past, I made an annual list of resolutions which were usually about improving my body and/or home. Last year, in a fleeting moment of maturity, I embraced some character work as my resolution choice. And I blogged about it, for accountability. I practiced “gratitude.” And I really did, last year. To Know What Is Great In '08. I encompassed being thankful as a discipline. And on many, many days over the past year, it took sheer willpower to look around and force myself to see what was right in my world. But as I committed to doing that, God worked on forming me into a person with a grateful heart. The year brought much pain, but God, in His amazing, wondrous way, gave me fresh eyes to view the beauty in my life. To see His hand in the midst of trials. To look around, and say, regardless of troubles, “It is good.” There has been so much goodness in my life. And as I have practiced looking for the good and being thankful, I can honestly say that I have more contentment, and I feel more joy despite circumstances. Do I check “gratitude” off my list now? Mission accomplished? No. I am still a work in progress. I will continue to practice gratitude as a daily discipline, and trust God to continue to shape my heart.

Now a New Year dawns. And I enter it in a place of burnout. Even my body is starting to show physical symptoms that I am depleted. I have been soul-weary for several months due to some personal, deeply painful circumstances. And I’ve been carrying the weight of some volunteer activities that I hadn’t intended to do. There have been many times this year that I have been attending meetings 5 nights a week out of a sense of responsibility. I am an over-dependable first-born. If a ball is dropped, I run to catch it. I want to hold things together, and keep everybody happy. Darn my conscientiousness! It serves only to make me resentful. But now, in this New Year, I am feeling God telling me to “Do less.” Be okay with disappointing others. Be more available to my family. Let go of the things God is asking me to let go of and trust Him to take care of them without my help. Simplicity Is Mine In '09.

I’m certain God will keep His end of the bargain. Can I keep mine? We’ll see. I’ll look back in one year, at the top of 2010, and hopefully will find myself in a place of soul-health. Isn’t that key?

Make ’09 a good year, friends, and maybe consider one baby step in personal growth? I’m just sayin’. Happy New Year to all!