The Sounds You Might Be Missing, Could Be Just What You Need

Stop and take a few minutes to listen to your morning routine. Really listen to what your environment tells you; so many times we get up and "get on" with our day, we can miss the beautiful and small things; so often I fear we all do, I'm guilty.

So ,for the past week I've made it a point to listen.

I've listened to the sounds I make as I crawl out of bed; usually about ten minutes after Scott pops up and hits the floor. My bones crack and my ankles ache, I growl, stretch and then shuffle off.

I've listened to the same creak for a week as I walk out of the bedroom and shuffle across the hardwood floors. I never noticed that before; something new to fix on my to-do list.

I've listened as I click off the lamp in the living room that gives us all enough light at night to make our midnight snack run, and guide my Peanut Butter thief back to his room safely.

I've made note of the dishwasher door as it rolls open and groans, as it releases yet another load of clean dishes from last night. My son will be up shortly to clank the glasses together as they make their way back to the cabinet.

The slurping noise the coffee maker makes, as it drains hot water through the filter, reminds me that I have someone in my life that enjoys brewed Morning Mojo. I'm blessed to have the opportunity to set it up for him the night before; complete with cup and hazelnut syrup. My dear friend and sister-in-law, taught me this Language of Love; she would do this each night for her incredible husband. He is terribly missed; I think of him (and Nancy) everyday as the coffee brews.

I've listened to the rhythm of my "Espresso Creation"; every step from pouring the water into the machine, the cracking noise the beans make as I measure out just the right amount of espresso, to the soft crunch of the raw sugar being spooned out of the canister into the cup, and finally the screech of the last drops of the caramel brown nectar hitting the shot glass. It's all a very melodic song to wake me up and stir my senses. I've never noticed it before last week, because I wasn't listening.

And then it's so quiet and I listen for Peace.

I hear it outside in the rustle of the leaves on our willow trees; in the groan of the magnolia trunk as it gives in to the wind, blowing it North. I hear it as the our little friend Rabbit scurries across the yard boldly crossing our dog's path; and Sun Tzu not caring in the least about Rabbit, but being more interested in chewing the dirt from his paws. As the corn whispers from the farm next door, letting me know God's out there working for all the good of His people.

I hear the constant clang of the metal clasps on our flag pole out front, reminding me that we are indeed free and how lucky we are to enjoy those freedoms.

And finally, the best sound of all, "Mom!" as he stirs from his slumber in a big stretch and yawn.

Take a some time and listen to the sounds around you; I think you'll see love and joy where maybe you didn't. And I hope you find a few moments of Peace.

Vacuum Cleaners...Not Just for Your Rugs Anymore!

Who knew that there are so many other uses for vacuuming than just cleaning your carpets?! Maybe I was just having an "off day" or maybe my brain turned itself off and tuned into the calming whir of the vacuum, or maybe (and this is probably the case) I was just being lazy.

After sweeping my kitchen debris into neat little piles on the floor, I grabbed the vacuum from the game room closet where my son was playing with his LEGO's. I began as I normally do; plugging the rubbery hose to the vacuum so I have a "focused" suction and the crumbs (remember them from an earlier post?) don't blow across my floor. So I go rolling by the stove top I noticed a few dried penne pasta shells that had escaped the pot a few days earlier, yeah, you see it coming don't you? I reached that little hose thing in between the stove burners and VIOLA, it sucked those shells right up. Needless to say I was thoroughly impressed with my new found cleaning tool! It sucked up all manner of stuff on my stove top and flat top grill; it got the melted hard cheese from the quesadillas a few days earlier, it even got a morsel of egg from Sunday Brunch! I've never claimed to be a great house keeper.

I was so happy I wanted to try out more new time saving efforts, but first I emptied the whirly bin of trash and then started hunting! I made a sad attempt at vacu-dusting, but think I'll need a softer attachment, I tried to vacuum our dog, but he had no part of my Master Clean plan. As I retired the vacuum for the day and begin to put it back in the game closet, I looked around the game room; LEGOs everywhere!

I'm telling you I sucked up about twenty of them in no time flat, it was AWESOME! Little Luke Skywalker mini-figures whirling around in the bin, green bricks zipping past me in a fury of wind and then my son caught sight of what I was doing and ran to unplug my new cleaning device.

I'm still in trouble with him and he's not talking to me. But I retrieved all the LEGOs from the LEGO "torture device"; Luke has a few bumps and nicks, but I think secretly my son thought I was cool too! Or at least that's what I'm telling myself; that, and enjoying a few hours of silence!

When Is It Okay to Be "Mommy Protective"?

I've been facing an issue just this past week concerning my son, the Boy Scout. In the normal world you'd think Boy Scouts are just that Boys, but it seems his troop is different. When I say different, I mean the troop has one of "those" parents.

This particular parent, let's say it's a father for the sake of the story and for the sake of the truth. I receive a call from the father telling me my son, the Patrol Leader, is being too "heavy handed" on the patrol. A patrol is a smaller group of Scouts within the troop and my son was graciously voted their leader for a period of six months. So, my son is being too hard on his son and the Patrol in general. The father then asks me to speak to my son about his "behavior" and perhaps he should be more "nice".

I immediately put my work hat on, instead of the Mommy hat. The Mommy hat would have allowed me to tell this father to stop babying his child; to tell his child to grow a nut and talk to my son, the Patrol Leader if he had a problem with his leadership and being too harsh; the Mom in me really wanted to come through the phone line and smack this father for being a whiny parent...but luckily I put on my business hat, my business acumen.

I rationally (and calmly) told him I'd ask my son about his leadership skills and that perhaps he (my son) should speak with his Patrol about said skills. I also added that I felt my son was a fine leader and yes, sometimes he was a bit harsh, but he was leading a patrol of very young boys that were similar to herding cats in a rain storm!

I was hopeful that a call to our Scoutmaster, the adult leader, would put this whole thing behind us. I talked to my son, he agreed to talk to his patrol and to talk with a few of the adult leaders...DONE! Lesson learned, move on; he needs to be taught additional leadership skills, let's get him signed up for Scout Leadership Training Course (big duh, he's only 12 1/2 and this is his first leadership position).

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. I have not been reprised of the entire weekend's events and I'm not sure that I really want to know all the details; but I've been told that the father attended the camp out this weekend and asked the Scoutmaster for my son's resignation. I am also told the Scoutmaster courteously told him to "pound sand"!

That may be all I need to hear, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to be holding a grudge for this father as I move forward in life. I can't guarantee I'll be wearing my business hat next time I see him either; I kinda hope not. I'm a pretty fierce defender of my family, especially the one that herds cats!

My Zebra Friend- an Example of Better DNA

HEADS UP *Put on your "far reaching train of thought" cap for this one, but somehow, I made a connection.

I was driving past our Noah's Ark farm this weekend and noticed for the second time, the donkeys were being mean to Alfred, the zebra. If you read earlier posts' you know I'm not lying about our neighbor having an ark of animals; Alfred is the zebra.

It got me to thinking about our society being mean or showing disdain for people that are different from themselves. I wonder why "we" (again as a society, I'm sure you aren't like this) tend to hone in on peoples differences and showcase to the world how much better "we" are?

Is it our genetic DNA that wants to take over as Survival of the Fittest, Only the Strongest Survive? Surely within that same DNA, we have Nurture the Weak, Take Care of Those in Need gene too; don't we? Doesn't God tell us the Meek Shall Inherit the Earth?

I've seen our Superiority over Inferiority many times, and I unfortunately feel certain, I've been in that "Superior" group. What in the world is wrong with me! I'm not any better than anyone else on this planet, I know there's an abundance of better people than me, so what makes us act in such ways?

Maybe it's our own insecurities, our own lack of self-confidence and worth that allows us to belittle those less fortunate, those people smaller, weaker and at times more simple than us.

I wonder, what did Alfred do this weekend that made the two other donkeys bite and kick him? Two against one, never a fair play in any book. I watched as Alfred, simply laid down and after a minute or so, the donkeys tired and walked away. We're they jealous of Alfred's beautiful stripes, the fact he was NOT monochromatic or we're they just picking on the weak? I'm not sure, but I hope that I can change my outlook on life and not be a "jack-ass".

And yes, God did tell us "the Meek shall inherit the Earth" in the Beatitudes, Matthew 5:3-10. I should start "Being" those attitudes; I think the Alfred's of the world would agree.

When Did He Start Shutting His Bedroom Door?

I can't seem to pinpoint the exact date, maybe it's been a month or more, but I'm sure it's only been in the last week. My son has begun shutting his bedroom when he goes in for the evening to "do stuff".

Stuff, is categorized as watching tv, reading a book, doing homework or just hanging out. But all that used to happen with the door open; it wasn't until two nights ago when he was cleaning his room, I noticed the door was shut. I guess it's part of growing up, he's starting to mark his own private space, a place to call "his".

I remember when I was very young, the thought of closing my door scared me. I'd be in the room by myself and what if a monster came out of my closet; no one would know, because my door was shut. I can't remember when I started closing my door, just that one day it was absurd to think my door would EVER be open, at least not while I was in it. It just happened, I guess I started growing up, marking my private space too.

It's happening at our house and I have to respect it, like my parents respected mine. I look back now, and I'm sure my Mom was heartbroken; my Dad saddened by my need for privacy, I was growing up.

I'm feeling those same emotions now.

I understand his need to be independent, to have alone time, to mature, to be a ruler of his own domain, to grow up... but don't grow away. And if you do, I'll leave MY door open, in case you need to come in!

The Crumb Gnome Attacks My Kitchen Nightly!

It's gotta be a mysterious force or little gnome, that each night runs through my recently cleaned kitchen counter tops and hardwood floors and scatters crumbs and other interesting food products.

I've just about given up wiping everything down each evening after dinner. I meticulously clean the surfaces of each counter so they shine brightly as I turn of the lights for the evening. But somehow, in the morning, CRUMBS!

I've also recently acquired a Peanut Butter Bandit, he strikes in the middle of the night and helps himself to a spoonful (or two, I'm not sure) of Peter Pan Crunchy Peanut Butter. I'm not so concerned about him, at least he puts the spoon in the sink, most of the time anyway.

And finally, there seems to be an outbreak of PopTart Thievery. This one strikes in the middle of the night as well, accompanied by an insatiable desire for milk. The thief, unfortunately, leaves his crumbs in our bed...hmmmmm?

Well, it seems that I have many odd things happening during the night, maybe it's time to set up a video camera; or just giggle each morning at the crumbs, peanut butter and silver PopTart wrappers that are left for me that NOBODY did during the night! Yea, that sounds better.

Why do Sunday's feel so different?

I really believe Sunday is my favorite day of the week. There just seems to be something so magically about Sunday. It's the only day we all sit down a the breakfast table and share a meal. Usually I shuffle around each morning going from the espresso machine to the refrigerator to put together a suitable breakfast for the boys and then off to tackle the day.

But on Sunday, everything seems fresh, the pace is slower and more peaceful. The pans don't clang together as loudly as they do on a Wednesday when I'm out of cereal and am forced to cook eggs and bacon. My boys don't seem to be as grumpy when they tumble out of bed; their hair is still as messy, their pj bottoms are still askew on their little frames, but somehow, it all works!

I enjoy cooking breakfast with my better half; he's certain his pancakes are the best and on Sunday, they really are! He makes the pancakes with a different ingredient each week, sometimes its bananas, maybe a double hint of cinnamon one week and we are really treated when chocolate chips enter the scene WITH the bananas. Whatever it is, we're all enjoying a peaceful and joyous morning.

That harmony seems to follow us through the whole day. At church we sit as a family, sing as a family and worship as a family...again it's magical!

On the way home, we plan what the rest of the day has in store for us. Can a friend come over? What's for lunch? Do we have any gardening to do? Can't I simply lay by the pool and sip a cool glass of wine? Sunday seems like everyone gets to do what they want and we do it together.

On Sunday, we're a family with no stress, lots of laughs and hugs, but most importantly, we're a family and there's the magic!