Tag Archives: life lessons

A Lifetime of Waiting

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“Patience is not sitting and waiting,
it is foreseeing.
It is looking at the thorn and seeing the rose,
looking at the night and seeing the day.” Rumi

I was thinking about how much time I’ve spent waiting for people and things in my lifetime.

Just now, the original Angel Boy (son) said, “Wait a minute, I told you I’d walk with you at noon.”

“OK”, I said, “I’ll wait.”

While I’m waiting for him, I decided to be productive and jot down my thoughts.

I’ve waited at music and gymnastics lessons, I’ve waited to pick up kids after school, I’ve waited for doctor’s appointments, I’ve waited for cars to be repaired, I’ve waited for loved ones to come home, I’ve spent countless hours waiting at the airport.

I guess you could say that waiting is a big part of being a mom. We wait for them to lift their heads, to crawl, to walk, to speak, to read, to grow. It’s all about waiting.

I can’t even do the math to figure out how many years I’ve spent waiting, in limbo, for anyone and everyone.

One would think that all that waiting indicates a high level of patience, but I’m not a patient person; I just surrender and radically accept the action of waiting because there’s nothing else to do.

Most of the time I bring a book and read to make the time go faster, and that helps me feel like I’m DOING SOMETHING.

I’m still waiting because Angel Boy’s idea of a “minute” is not the same as mine…I told him I was leaving without him and again, he told me to wait.

So I’m waiting.

What happens next in this scenario is that he’ll find me and say, “Hurry up! I thought you were ready. Let’s GO!” As if I haven’t been waiting for him all this time. LOL.

I literally just said, “I’ve been waiting my whole life to see the northern lights.”

And I hope I do. Hope springs eternal, and that’s exactly what waiting feels like; an eternity.

Blink! Is it Magic? 🪄

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At one point, Angel Boy 2.0 would often ask me to do something for him; for example, he’d ask me to reach something or make him breakfast or a snack or to play MagnaTiles, anything really, and he would become incredibly impatient if it didn’t happen RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

As an impatient type myself who wants everything RIGHT NOW, I totally understood.

Instead of getting angry or telling him to wait, I started to say, “BLINK.”

It was enough of a distraction the first time I said it that he stopped and said “WHAT?”

I repeated myself, “Blink.” I mean do it, really BLINK YOUR EYES, OK?”

He blinked and looked at me.

I said, “Did anything happen? Am I magic? Do I possess magical abilities?”

He slowly shook his head…nope. (I’m sure he thought his grandma was totally cray, and he might be right, but he was engaged and interested.)

“Well, I wish I could blink my eyes so that what you want would happen in the blink of an eye, and since it obviously did NOT, it’s going to take as long as it takes. What do you think about that?”

He laughed and I did, too.

It must have been the perfect response for him because we’ve continued the tradition.

“BLINK! Did it happen? Nope, not for me either. I’m still not magical, I guess, still only human.”

It was a more fun way to get my point across that he could be a LITTLE more patient. I think I got the idea from watching Bewitched. Although I can’t twitch my nose like Samantha, I can blink my eyes.

Angel Girl recently did the same thing as I mended a torn dress for one of her dolls. Watching me, she kept impatiently repeating, “Are you finished, are you finished, why is it taking you so long?”

“Blink, girl. Blink your eyes. Is your doll all sewn up yet?”

She blinked and shook her head while her brother nodded with all the wisdom of his 7.5 years.

“See”, I held out my hands. ” I’m not magic. These hands of mine can only sew one stitch at a time and if you want me to do a good job, it’s going to take as long as it takes.”

It’s not like I have the powers of Bianca in Wishenpoof, the story about a young fairy girl who grants children’s wishes, although SOMETIMES I do swirl my arms around and say “Whish” like she does in the show, but sadly, I’m still not magical. Not at all.

No matter how many times I blink MY eyes, I’m only human.

It’s all going to take as long as it takes. Lesson learned. 🪄

Promises to Keep

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“You said you would and you always keep your promises, right, Grandma?”

“I know I did, and isn’t that exactly what I’m doing? Aren’t we on our way to the special Pokemon card store? Am I keeping my promise?”

He often says that to me, referencing my statements about keeping promises to him or his sister. Or to anyone, really.

“You promised!”

I think it’s important to be honest and if I promise to do something or take them somewhere, I’ll keep my word. If I’m not sure, I say, “I’ll try but I can’t promise.” That way, they’re prepared to accept a different outcome. I don’t want to let them down.

The key to my success is not to promise anything I can’t deliver. With the kids, it’s simple–promises to go to the park or a special store or bake whatever they request (kugel or cinnamon rolls) or play Candyland.

Why is keeping promises important?

Keeping a promise lays the foundation for trust and respect. Trust is vital. When our behavior is consistent, it allows others to build faith and trust in us. Nurturing this behavior in children early in life begins a pattern that leads to reliability and personal integrity. It’s all about responsibility, commitment, and accountability.

Have I ever broken a promise to the kids? So far, the answer is no. Because it means so much to me to be a person they can always trust, who will always be there for them no matter what. As they get older, hopefully I’ll never let them down. They can count on me.

Pinky swear. For real.

Almost Everything But a Washcloth Full of Holes

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I’m known as the “fixer” because I have a certain amount of success in gluing together broken bits of china, repairing toys, and mending torn clothing…just call me the all around problem solver.

The original Angel Boy recently came to me with a few hand sewing tasks; a ripped seam in his windbreaker, tighten the upper arms of his gardening sleeves where the elastic stretched out so they won’t fall down, (which is super annoying), and sew or iron patches on AB2’s jeans, where he must slide on one knee A LOT,

After I completed my work under the watchful eye of my faithful sidekick, Angel Girl, she rummaged around in her room for something for me to repair (she doesn’t like to be left out of anything) and ran back with a dress that had short-ish butterfly sleeves that didn’t meet her high fashion standards.

“I don’t like this part, Grandma, so you can fix it.”

I took a look at it and figured it wouldn’t be a too difficult job to remove the flutter sleeves and resew the seams, which I did.

It made her very happy.

Later, while mom was giving her a bath, I could hear them chatting about her day. All of a sudden, she said, “I’ve got to give this to Grandma.”

She jumped out of the tub and came running into my room dripping wet, holding a raggedy torn and tattered washcloth full of holes.

“Here you go, Grandma, fix this.”

It must have been washed dozens of times and there really wasn’t any life left and sadly, that worn out fabric was far beyond my capabilities to magically repair, but I love the faith and confidence that angel has in me as the “fixer”, the one she can count on to make things right and restore everything back to the way they should be.

Yup, I’m a fixer, but not always.

Hopscotch | Life Lessons

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How awesome is this new twist on an old game to encourage confident selftalk along with subliminal positive affirmations?

Chanel and a Sort Of Moral Dilemma

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Here’s the story…

I found an adorable pair of Chanel CC logo earrings on Amazon, not real, but “replica” and so sparkly that I purchased them. I don’t normally go for fake anything but these looked a lot like my real Chanel necklace, and I thought what the heck, I’ll just return them if they’re not great, plus I lose earrings so often that I’d be totally freaked out if I lost one that cost hundreds of dollars.

The delivery tracking number wasn’t working so I messaged the seller. She immediately responded, said things were unfortunately delayed and she was very sorry, issued a refund, and told me if they did arrive, keep them as a gift from her.

Well…two days late — today — they DID arrive and they are even more sweet than I had imagined.

What would you do?

Here’s what I did: I emailed the seller, told her I received them, and asked her to either give me an address so I could send a check OR re-charge my card.

Again, she responded promptly:

I am very sorry for the delay of the package,
So you don’t have to pay, you can keep it,
thanks.
GOOD DAY,

Here they are. I never expected to receive such an awesome gift, but I feel much better about keeping the earrings knowing that I offered to pay and she still wants me to keep them!

The earrings look perfect with my (real) Chanel necklace.

Would you have tried to pay or would you have not bothered to make the effort based on the first email?

Of course this wasn’t a life altering moral dilemma, just one of those medium-sized quandaries that pop up in our lives on a daily basis to test our character.

Wispy Sky Angel Wings

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At the risk of being accused of always having my head in the clouds (guilty!) I took this photo a couple days ago right about 4:30 or so in the afternoon directly across the street from Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

I’ve never seen the sky like this–Picasso-esque–almost as if these shapes are petroglyphs or messages speaking to me, but I can’t seem to decipher the code.

I’m not very good at comprehending signs from the Universe. For example, a while back I would be drawn to notice 5:14 on the dot, AM and PM, every single day for a couple of weeks. That’s my birthdate, so it must mean something important, right?

I never could figure it out, but subsequently, there was 5:41 AM and PM for a few days, and I have absolutely NO IDEA if that’s some kind of karmic joke or if it was mere coincidence. Like sometimes a rose is just a rose? I dunno, but it confused me and made me feel ignorant because if it WAS a message, what was it? Who was it from?

Sometimes I’m simply not very smart because 5:14 is popping up again unbidden. WTF? Mom, is that you? If so, WHAT DO YOU WANT? Sheesh, she can so annoying.

This. Is who I am.

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Okie dokie.

What did you think about my recent post about finding a local source for Chanel and other high end designer goods?

Loved it? Don’t really care? First world problems? Entitlement issues?

Angst. I suffer. Truly I do.

On the same day I purchased my new Chanel sunnies, I was still riding the sweet endorphin rush and made a beeline to Rite Aid to see what was on clearance as a way to detox myself.

Here’s where you’ll get to know the real me. To walk in my stilettos for a brief moment; to feel compassion for the crazy that I am, and which I fully OWN, by the way.

This is complicated, so follow closely.

Do you see these three bottles of nail polish?

(I’m assuming you are all nodding your heads.)

img_6380

It’s a low end brand but that doesn’t mean low quality. The polish lasts quite a while and doesn’t chip-while it’s not $10 Opi or Essie quality, it’s perfectly acceptable especially if you’re quirky like me and change your colors on a whim. One day I’m sparkly and the next day I’m red hot.

You get the picture…

But that’s not this story NOR my dilemma.

Bear in mind that I JUST spent a small fortune on new sunnies and the price tag didn’t make me flinch. Notwithstanding THAT, I am really very thrifty. Frugal, even.

The nail polish brand must have been discontinued because there were signs offering a deal. If you purchased two at the regular price of 99 cents, the third one was 24 cents.

So random. 24 CENTS? Honestly, who came up with THAT number?

But my convoluted thought process was working overtime. Do I NEED three new colors? NOT REALLY.

But how can I pass this deal up? I did a quick calculation and discovered the price would be $2.22 for all of them.

You prob think this is a no brainer, right?

NOPE. Not for me.

I agonized for a good ten minutes, talking to myself (in my head, not OUT LOUD, sheesh) about the necessity and/or waste of $2.22 when I really only wanted ONE color, and then I asked myself (again, IN MY HEAD) whether or not I could walk away from a deal like that and might I not find a use for the other two colors at some point in the coming months.

It was excruciatingly painful to be in my orbitofrontal cortex,  anterior cingulate cortex, the striatum, and my thalamus at that moment. You wouldn’t want to be in there, trust me.

All the odd OCD synapses were firing at the same time.

I mean, do you see the insanity? How can I explain it to anyone when it makes no sense to myself?

If you move the decimal point over a bit, you can figure out about how much I spent on new sunnies. (Well, more, but who’s counting.)

I had less angst over THAT amount of money than I did with the $2.22.

What did I do?

Holding your breath?

I bought all three.

NOT SO FAST.

Actually, I first decided not to, and was walking to the shelf to put them back, and then I thought I was being BEYOND mental and completely ridiculous, so I changed my mind.

Whew.

I’ve had some tough decisions to make in my life but this ranks right up there with the most insane waste of time about virtually nothing significant. (Like the time I stressed about driving twenty miles to take back a $2 ball of twine. Which I eventually kept. Read all about it here.)

I told you I suffer from angst. I really really do.

Believe it.

Shake It Off

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Not the Taylor Swift tune, although it’s one of my faves, but I’m talking about shaking off the much too serious posts I’ve been writing about wetiko, death, and the dark night of the soul!

While I haven’t done a whole lot of retail therapy shopping lately unless it’s toys or clothes for a growing Angel Boy 2.0,  I’ll tell you about a heartbreakingly exquisite moment that he and I shared on a recent visit.

Picture this: he lives between Puget Sound and some MAJOR railroad tracks. The good thing is the neverending entertainment of watching boats and sunsets and moonrises and the tiny little beach that’s across the street and the less good thing is the long and loud freight trains that heavily traverse the tracks all day and all night.

However, to a little boy, choo choos are AWESOME and AMAZING ALL THE TIME, exactly like his daddy thought at that age. We often drove to the train museum at Balboa Park and rode the little train there, too.

The day I was leaving, as I was packing my suitcase, Theo came in my room and grabbed my hand. I said, “What’s up, Mr. T? I’m packing up to go home, do you want to help?”

He looked at me intently still holding my hand and pulled me to my feet. In a sweet, small voice, he whispered excitedly, “AmmahAmmah, choo choo!” and raised his arms so I could pick him up. We stood at the window and he patted my back and leaned into me as I read to him all the names on the cars and we counted them until the train passed. I counted 56 cars and never wanted to put him down. I wish there had been 10,556 more.

Time stopped for those few minutes.

Nothing else mattered.

A boy, his grandma, a shared love of trains, and the beauty of a little human whose spirit shines so brightly even at eighteen months that he already knows the meaning of life and of happiness, being fully invested in the moment, the mindfullness of joyful living that some of us seem to lose as we transition into adults.

My little buddy. Beyond adorable…THEO-dorable!

This is the Balboa Park train. Can’t wait to take 2.0 !!!

MiniTrain_Header.jpg

 

 

Monday’s Life Lesson

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People talk to me. Maybe it’s because I’m small and seemingly non-threatening (little do they know!) — whatever the reason, I can be anywhere and random folks’ll share very personal stories.

Like today, I was out and about finding the perfect plastic containers to organize old files and financial documents that aren’t supposed to be thrown out — I’m not sure if the rule is to keep them for seven years or ten years, so I’ve settled on forever, just to be safe.

I’ve lived in the same house since 1985 and have a LOT of paid bills and receipts and I’ve saved them all, because you never know when you need to find the receipt for a chair we purchased in 1987. Even if we don’t have the chair anymore. Is anyone whispering “hoarder” yet?

That’s another day’s post about my office purge, and it’ll be complete with pics.

Today, I found perfectly sized plastic containers with locking handles at Target because I hate Walmart. Standing in line to purchase them, the clerk was making every mistake in the book ringing up my THREE ITEMS. First, she only charged me for one box which would have been cool, then she corrected her mistake when I said, “Is that the price for all of them?”

Staring off into space when I asked, “Do I need to press a button for credit, not debit?” was slightly troublesome and weird, but I was having a happy day and repeated my question, thinking perhaps she was hard of hearing.

This was no twenty-something with a bad attitude at her first job. This was a lady in her mid-to-late sixties and you could tell by her wrinkles and gray hair that life had not been too kind to her. Here she was, working at a minimum wage job, standing on her feet for hours, when she should have been at a book club or gardening or anywhere but wearing that unflattering red t-shirt. Ya know?

Tears slowly filled her eyes and made their way down her cheek.

“I’m sorry”, she said. “I’m not really ‘with it’ today.”

“My best friend just called me to say that her dog died suddenly and while she was taking him to be buried, her car blew up, and to make matters worse, she’s being evicted from her apartment.”

She said, “It’s hard to keep my mind on anything but thinking about her. She loved her dog more than anything. How much pain can one person bear?”

I was sooo glad that I hadn’t been my snarky/bitchy/impatient self. (At times I feel that everyone was put on this earth to serve me (princess complex) and I’ll admit to acting a teensy weensy beeyotchy.)

I racked my brain to come up with an appropriate consoling response. What was the right thing to say in a situation like this? I felt so bad for her, her friend, and the dog. I told her that she was obviously a great friend to someone who must be a wonderful person to feel that kind of love for her dog. It’s all I could come up with at the spur of the moment.

This brief interaction made me pause and think about life and what’s important and somewhere in all of that, there’s a lesson to be learned.

What’s the lesson learned?

1 Sometimes, life sucks.

2 Sometimes, it’s not all about the shoes.

(Come on, you didn’t really think I was gonna get all preachy, did ya???)