Nostalgia is a B— (My Silent Mid-Life Crisis, Part IV)

Posted on January 27, 2019 by hymningandhaing

The funny thing about chasing the past is that most people wouldn’t know what to do with it if they caught it. —Atticus, poet

I am a sucker for nostalgia. “Remember when…” and “how we used to….” followed by “back in the day….” Yes, ALL good stuff! In my heart, I carry around a zillion memories, stories and images, of days gone by. I can’t help myself. I remember our old house (the one by the church,) my Pepto-Bismol pink basement bedroom that had a closet with a secret door. I remember awful lunch ladies who wouldn’t let me go out to recess if I didn’t try EVERYTHING on my plate. I especially remember the one NICE lunch lady who healed my wasp sting with a special baking soda balm (in my recollection she wears a superhero cape!) Filed away in my mind are all the important “firsts,” childhood friends, and a hidden compartment labeled NEVER, EVER DO THAT AGAIN! Nostalgia. Something as simple as a song or a smell can take me back. Next thing you know, I’m lost in thought…off on my own adventure…sort of like stepping through the secret door in that old closet. Suddenly, I’m in a completely different place…and I like it there.

Yes, nostalgia is a tricky thing. For a control freak like myself, it’s absolutely bewitching. I know all the plot lines, the dialogue, the setting and most importantly, the outcome. These are my stories. These are my people. These are my glory days. I think the Twilight Zone touched on this theme…the idea of “going back” —as if all our best days were behind us! If you’re a fan of the show, you know nothing good can come from chasing the past. And I mean nothing. Yet…it’s tempting. We all have that desire to relive a special moment, right a wrong, fix a relationship or situation, say words that we left unsaid…the list could go on and on. And while the concept of nostalgia seems so benign, when one crosses the threshold of midlife, nostalgia can cause things to get ugly…fast.

Theodore Roosevelt famously said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” There’s so much wisdom in that statement. As we reach our supposed “midpoint,” it’s natural to take inventory and evaluate our lives. Am I in a good place? Am I happy with the choices I’ve made? Should I have chosen differently? Before long, we start making plans for the future. What will my second act look like? What still needs to be done? What should be done? We start examining our lives internally AND externally. Graying hair, wrinkles, shifting weight and suddenly we’re regretting every yummy dessert and cursing those not-so-funny laugh lines. Making these assessments often lends itself to comparison. Look at what she’s doing. Look at how far he’s come. Look at what they’ve got. Combine these comparisons with nostalgic reflections, mix with hormones and suddenly you’re gulping down the poison of one volatile cocktail!

Sure, nostalgia is a B—, if we blame others for the choices we made in the past, if we use it as a means of justifying today’s regrets and if we let it fuel our present dissatisfaction. But before we write nostalgia off as just another bad word, let’s do a little re-labeling. Shift our perspective, if you will. Nostalgia is a B—but what if that B stands for BLESSING? Hear me out. In a healthy context, one where we recount the past for the good that it set into motion…we can truly see the blessing. In good ol’ George Bailey fashion, we can come to value the past…both the mountain top moments AND our days in the valley. Clarence, the angel, reminds us, “One man’s life touches so many others, when he’s not there it leaves an awfully big hole.” I don’t want to compare my life to anyone else’s. I don’t want to wallow in regrets or seeth with envy. I don’t want the past to keep me from moving forward. My past (and yours) is precious. It has set into play the person that I am today (flaws and all.) And if I don’t like that person, I can change. My story isn’t over (and neither is yours!)

This midlife stuff is hard. None of us have it all figured out. It’s important to offer yourself grace and remember, this is all normal. And while I’m not sure that I can say that I wouldn’t change a single thing, what I can say is that I don’t regret a single moment. The good, bad, (the uncertain) and especially the ugly. Nostalgia is a B—, but its definition is up to me. Plus, it will always be one of my favorite places to visit…because I know all the plot lines, the dialogue, and the settings. These are my stories. These are my people. These are my glory days…and I have a few more to make in the process.

Remember the days of old; consider the years long past. Deuteronomy 32:7

UP NEXT: Cowboy Take Me Away (My Silent Midlife Crisis, Part V)

Country Cardio or When Introverts Exercise (My Silent Midlife Crisis, Part III)

Posted on October 3, 2018 by hymningandhaing

Country music is three chords and the truth. –Harlan Howard, songwriter

For many, the word “exercise” conjures up hundreds of negative, SWEATY connotations. If you’re an introvert, you could likely multiply that number by a million. And if you’re me, one could amp it up even more. Exercise just sounds awful–exertion, perspiration, racing heart, muscle burn, etc. Combine that with the thought of joining a gym or signing up for a class with a bunch of strangers and the idea becomes absolutely overwhelming. So obviously, I’m not a fan…and yet, I’m also not an idiot.

Exercise is important, that’s what THEY tell us anyway. They’re right, but that doesn’t mean we have to like it…or at least I don’t. As an introvert, exercise has been rather tricky for me. Fortunately, I’ve settled into a routine that hasn’t killed me (at least not yet!) and of course, I had to add my own dramatic flair to it. I mean it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t.

ENTER THE EXERCISE BIKE. You’ve probably seen the Peleton commercials and I’m definitely not that girl, but it was my inspiration. I figured a stationary bike was perfect for me. I could ride at my own pace, work up to a good solid routine, stay indoors, and monitor my progress all while indulging in Netflix! Jealous, right? It was the perfect solution…ALMOST. It wasn’t long before I decided that this was a little too easy. I mean the saying goes, “no pain, no gain,” right? So I decided I needed to add an element of suffering AND discomfort to my cycling. Thus, the Country CARDIO music playlist was born.

These 11 country songs fuel my 10-mile daily ride all the while generating an emotional punch that stirs up just the right amount of heartbreak, memories (good and bad,) and tearfulness. From the very first song to the last song, I experience a rollercoaster of feelings…love found, love lost, break-ups, good times, hopefulness, hopelessness, dreams shattered, dreams fulfilled and more. Yes, all good stuff! And while I only truly loved country music for a few years in the 1990s, these songs are near and dear to my heart today. I can remember exactly where I was, who I was with, and all the circumstances surrounding each song. It’s like unlocking a memory treasure chest with each pedal turn…the perfect compliment to my current midlife crisis.

All the nostalgia of George Strait and Garth Brooks combined with girl power ballads from Martina McBride and The Dixie Chicks (yes, I’ve forgiven them,) intertwined with Tracy Byrd, Vince Gill, and Brooks & Dunn. (Betcha can’t guess which song is my favorite?) The memories span from leaving home for college to moving halfway across the country AND BACK, plus so many more. One minute I’m so grateful for everything, then a simple song change has me feeling all melancholy in a lonesome bar somewhere. Another song has me completely heartbroken and the next musical selection reminds me how much I learned from that same heartache. To quote one favorite, “And the words of every sad song seem to say what I think….” Sure, it’s a tad dramatic, but that’s what makes it perfect.

So maybe I don’t work myself into a total sweaty mess on these little treks, but I know that I feel like I’ve run a marathon when I’m done…even if it’s just an emotional one. My bike doesn’t have an incline setting to induce burning thighs, but I’m satisfied with the melodramatic pain. I might not be building tons of muscle, but know that in one way or another I’m growing stronger. Somehow it all seems like enough. When I step off the bike, I feel accomplished. I feel empowered–like I’ve done something and been somewhere. I feel sore and worn…and there might even be some perspiration, too. Sounds like exercise to me…

I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. – Philippians 4:13

UP NEXT: Nostalgia is a B— (My Silent Midlife Crisis, Part IV)

Is It Hot in Here or Am I Just Dying? (My Silent Midlife Crisis, Part II)

Posted on September 4, 2018 by hymningandhaing

Amazing women don’t have hot flashes. We have power surges. –Author Unknown

Like with all things–good OR bad–you remember the first time. Hot flashes are no exception. Apparently, these little “power surges” rear their ugly heads in your 40s (without warning mind you) and can vary in severity. I remember hearing women talk about this “fun” part of midlife before, but none of the talk could prepare me for the actual experience! Somewhere during the car ride between the grocery store and picking up a Sonic coke, I was pretty sure I was on the verge of death. Should I pull over? Was I going to pass out? Am I having a panic attack or a heart attack, or BOTH? No amount of air conditioning could fix this “power surge.” And while it only lasted a few minutes (and I did get that Sonic coke,) I came home in a cold sweat and immediately went to bed. I was convinced, this was how it was all going to end….

Fortunately, I lived and thanks to a plethora of medical advice via the world wide web, I was able to come up with a diagnosis pretty quickly. Hot flashes. Ugghh. No, no, and NO! I subsequently slipped into the first stage of grief…denial. I’m too young. I don’t feel bad. This is supposed to happen to other people, not me. As the summer heat increased, so did my progression through the rest of the grief stages…anger, bargaining (which totally doesn’t work by the way,) and depressed mood, but I flat out REFUSED to wrap my head around the idea of acceptance. It seemed so final and like I was giving up the fight. So I quickly made my way back to anger…because hot flashes basically just suck.

Apparently, there is hope out there…or so I’ve heard (again with the talk.) Many women find relief through various hormonal treatments, supplements and dietary changes…yada, yada, yada. Some medical sites point to “knowing your triggers” and advise trying at all costs to avoid them. My heart sunk when I saw that the top triggers include: warm air temperatures, hot beverages, and spicy foods. Seriously? So basically baseball/softball/soccer, COFFEE, and Mexican food. That list pretty much sums up my life right now…so what’s a girl to do? Invest in Frogg Toggs, large Yeti cups (for cold drinks,) battery operated fans, and ICE, lots of ICE!

So far, I’m still surviving. My close cohorts have been very helpful and understanding, AND have probably heard me complain way too much about these “power surges.” (I try to keep it real for the people.) MENTALLY, I remind myself that I’m not going through anything that any other woman hasn’t gone through…and lived to tell about. SPIRITUALLY, I do a ton of praying (mostly for rain.) EMOTIONALLY, I’m in a pretty serious relationship with air conditioning. And PHYSICALLY, I’m the lady who isn’t afraid to drop ice cubes down her shirt when needed. Still, I gain confidence when I hear other women tell me that these “power surges” will eventually end. (I don’t believe them…but I do gain confidence.)

Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:4

UP NEXT: Country Cardio or When Introverts Exercise (My Silent Midlife Crisis, Part III)

KEEP CALM, Summer’s Coming (15 Sunshine-Inspired Songs) SONG 15

Posted on August 20, 2017 by hymningandhaing

Laughter is an instant vacation. –Milton Berle

Me in Hawaii…being eaten alive by tropical mosquitoes. Yay!

Have you ever tried vacationing with an introvert? It’s the absolute worst! I know because I am THAT introvert.

Basically, I’m a home body. I’m perfectly content with staying inside ALL DAY. This becomes problematic when your entire family is made up of extroverts. They like to do things (like go out of the house,) hang out with friends, see new things and try adventurous stuff…in the HEAT of summer! Ugggghhh. I’m not “anti” all of this…I’m just a lot more particular about how it all gets done. Thus, the worst introvert to vacation with. EVER.

So what does this have to do with the last song on my summer playlist? A lot actually. “Vacation” by the Go Go’s was a smash hit in 1982. Quirky, fun-loving, and surfy…these girls really nailed the pop/punk rock/girl power kind of sound. A tune about trying to use a vacation to get over a guy–well what could be more practical than that? (Introverts LOVE practical!) “Vacation” further cemented the popular girl group as 80s icons resulting in the song earning the number eight spot on both the Billboard Top 100 and the Rolling Stone Best Summer Songs of All Time list. And while these ladies seem like the “vacation” type, interviews and soundbites reveal that they were actually a little salty. Group members wrote their own songs, learned how to play their own instruments, scoffed at the record label executives, and basically did everything on their terms. Which sounds a little bit like my approach to vacationing…why do we need to go, what will we see there, how much is this going to cost, is it really worth my time, is it safe and (my favorite question) how many people are going to be there? So who wants to travel with me now?

Seriously, I love this song and remember thinking as a kid how cool it would be to perform synchronized water-skiing with my best girl friends. We all wanted to be Belinda Carlisle and the catchy chorus still brings a smile to my face. Besides, the music video actually depicts the best kind of vacation ever–virtual! Enjoy YOUR summer!

Shout Out to Other Mothers (THANK YOU!)

Posted on May 13, 2017 by hymningandhaing

MOMS. Because not all superheroes wear capes! -author unknown

WOW.

In case you didn’t know it, that’s MOM upside down!

Okay, all kidding aside, WOW is the only word that comes to mind for me this Mother’s Day. I’m not sure what made this year’s holiday different, but I feel very compelled to give a huge shout out to other mothers today. I feel like belting out a great big THANK YOU…complete with song and dance (not to mention a few hugs!) But mostly, I just want you all to know that I see you and I really just couldn’t do this mothering thing without you.

Some have said that being a mother is the most important job on the planet. Something along the lines of “the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world.” And there’s plenty more sayings out there to describe motherhood (and, believe it or not, most of them are favorable!) Still there’s nothing like being deep in the parenting trenches to remind you that you cannot do this alone. We need each other…sometimes desperately. I need you to be my eyes and ears, I need you to catch my kids doing good AND to give me the heads up when they make poor decisions. I need you to double-check our kids whereabouts and sleepover plans with me…because communicating in the tween/teen years can be difficult and responsibility/accountability are crucial. I need you to share advice and help me navigate through tough situations. And I need you to be loving examples, safe places, and trusted adults whom my kids can turn to, if needed. And I promise to do the same…because motherhood is an interesting club. It’s not necessarily hard to join (although I’m sensitive to the fact that it can be.) There’s no pre-mom exam. No age limit. No “green light.” Some of us fit in from the get go. Others clamor to get in. Some of us enter hesitantly, if not reluctantly. Many of us trudge through. And some of us never quite find our place. Regardless, once you’re in…YOU’RE IN. And there’s no guarantee of success in this club. There’s no real manual. No graduation. And sometimes, in spite of the numbers, it can be a pretty lonely place. I can’t speak for everybody, but for myself I can honestly say I had no idea what I was getting into. Albeit the oldest of four, growing up in a very large extended family, having countless hours of babysitting under my belt and with a “mother hen” type personality…I never felt like I was ready. In fact, during my teen years and early twenties, I was pretty dead set against becoming a mother. I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I wasn’t up for the task. At age 26, my son was born…and while this was a well thought out and planned event I still knew on some level that I had no idea what I was in for (despite all my research)–and I was right!

We all know that our bodies change when we have a child. Hormones fluctuate, things shift, etc., but what happens to your heart has to be the most remarkable, extraordinary change of all! While the other changes occur over a matter of months, it seems that your heart changes almost immediately. Your priorities change, your instincts change, your thought processes change…basically, what I’m trying to say here is that EVERYTHING changes. What I was really least prepared for was the general roller coaster ride of motherhood. The wins and the losses. The ups and the downs. I’m pretty much a planner (and a bit of a control freak) and motherhood is everything but a well-defined plan and you can throw any hope of control out the window. Plan A quickly moves through the alphabet to Plan Z, and in no set pattern. What works one day (and for one child) quickly falls to the wayside in lieu of something completely different for another child (or the same kiddo down the road.) Uggghhh.

Photo of a soccer birthday cake (or at least what’s left of one) that a sweet “other mother” made for my son on his 15th birthday.

So for all this (and so much more) I continue to look to you, fellow mothers. Without other mothers, I’m not sure where I would be. I’m grateful to have my own mother to serve as an example and a guide. Grateful for a mother-in-law who offers love and encouragement. Grateful for a sister, who lovingly mothers all the nieces and nephews and her own stepkids with a natural mothering gift. I’m grateful for sister-in-laws who treat my kids like their own. And I’m especially grateful for the mothers of my children’s friends, the “church” moms, the “teacher” moms, the “neighbor” moms and other mothers in my community. You all ROCK! BIG thanks for your kind hearts, for the rides to and from practices/games, for the driving them through the fast food line and including them in your family plans. Thank you for the birthday cakes, countless sleepovers, day trips and shopping excursions. Thanks for bridging the gap when our family schedules were overloaded. Thank you for sharing photos of my kids and yours just doing their thing. Thank you for the “Walmart Updates.” Thank you for not judging them harshly, for understanding that they are in a unique circumstance (as are most kids) and for offering them grace and love. Thank you for including them in your family life. And thank you for your example…often times it’s your own mothering actions that speak volumes.

So let’s forget the mom-shaming, the parenting peer pressure, and all the other nonsense. And instead, keep breathing life and love into each other’s kiddos. Keep talking, keep texting, keep cheering, keep showing up and keep vigilant. Please continue to keep your eyes open…looking out for my kids and others. Thank you for filling my ears (and heart) with bright spots that you see in my children. I see the same bright spots in your kiddos, too!

We truly are on each other’s team. Happy, happy Mother’s Day!

She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future. Proverbs 31:25

Closing Time (Every New Beginning Comes from Some Other Beginning’s End)

Posted on January 5, 2017 by hymningandhaing

She believed she could, so she did. –R.S. Grey

A young woman who I know AND love is about to do something BIG and brave…and I couldn’t let this occasion go by without penning a few thoughts…because what’s the point of growing older (and wiser) if you can’t drop some knowledge on a youngster, right? Amen.

Most of these musings came to me at 2am. I mention this as both a disclaimer and an explanation to the randomness of these points, but let me start at the beginning. I remember the day you were born. Driving down the highway to the nearby town, your aunt and I talked excitedly about our soon-to-arrive niece. I’m pretty sure we didn’t know exactly what to expect, so when we were invited into the delivery room we stood dumbfounded. Now that you know us (and my aversion to all things medical) you can probably guess that we declined and opted to do the next best thing–MAKE A SIGN! We sat in the hallway with a poster board and some markers scribbling a “welcome baby” greeting just for YOU! From the beginning, you were so loved. For years, our whole family life revolved around you. When I would come home from college, you were one of the people I most looked forward to seeing. I liked to rock you to sleep and quietly sing the KU alma mater song…because I found the song both hopeful and soothing (and I wanted to make sure you grew up to be a Jayhawk fan.) Funny how things come full circle…it was this memory that actually brought me to write this blog which I hope will be equally hopeful and soothing to you as you ironically prepare to move to Manhattan, Kansas! So here goes:

Moving away from home/going to school takes guts. Not everyone can do it. Not everyone should do it, but having the courage to walk away from everything you know and try something new/exciting/scary and uncomfortable deserves some major props. In doing this, you have already proven one thing: you are WILLING to take chances. Kudos.
In many ways you’ve been preparing for this your whole life and in many other ways you’re not prepared at all. This is okay. In fact, it’s better than okay. It’s absolutely normal.
Good things will happen and bad things will happen, too. How you deal with these things will make all the difference. My favorite quote is by author Og Mandino. It says “Count your blessings, proclaim your rarity, go another mile, USE WISELY YOUR POWER OF CHOICE, and one more–to fulfill the other four–do all things with love…love for yourself, love for all others, and love for GOD….You Are the Greatest Miracle in The World.” You can always choose. Remember that no hole is too deep, no place is too far for redemption.
Never date a man with hair longer than your own. Random, I know…but really. Who needs the competition? I actually came up with this rule while visiting friends at K-State. I can’t remember what the circumstances were exactly, but it’s a rule that has served me well. BTW…man buns are now included in this one.
Talk to God (a lot) and don’t forget to listen, too. Although I think you should go to church, I have to admit that I didn’t attend while I was in college. I can honestly tell you that I missed out and I would definitely do this part differently today. Nonetheless, I did a whole lot of praying during that time and LISTENING to God, too. This saved my bacon more than once and I am eternally grateful. Looking back I can clearly see God at work during my college years. Make your relationship with Him a priority.
Practice the “pause.” I didn’t come up with this…I’m not sure who did, but it makes a lot of sense and it may actually save your life someday. “When in doubt, pause. When angry, pause. When tired, pause. When stressed, pause. And when you pause, always pray.”
Keep an eye on your drink. Again, another random one…but this is vital. There are bad guys (and girls) out there. People who do not have your best interest at heart. People who will try to use (and abuse) you and hurt you to satisfy their own evil desires. These people will buy you drinks and worse, they may even spike your drink. I made it a practice to never, ever, EVER accept a drink from a stranger (and eventually I didn’t accept any drinks at all.) It was not always well received. I’ve been called countless names, been yelled at, and made fun of. I didn’t care. In fact, it just proved that this was someone who I definitely didn’t have any business hanging out with. If someone wants to buy you a drink, great. The two of you can go up to the bar and order it together. At a party, keep in mind that you are perfectly capable of pouring your own drink. Carry a water bottle (drunkenness is overrated anyway.) Be on guard. Protect yourself…and look after your friends, too.
You’re not expected to peak now. While these clearly are some of the best days of your life…they’re not the only days of your life. Someday you might choose to travel, land your dream job, become President, meet an awesome guy, have a fabulous wedding, start your own business, become a mother…the list goes on and on. Life is a series of journeys. Never think that your best days are behind you…always look forward.
Trust your gut…that’s the Holy Spirit at work. Look people in the eye, but more importantly watch what they say and do. I wholeheartedly believe God speaks to us and a little warning light goes off when we’re in bad company. Do not ignore this! Women (especially) tend to discount this small little voice. We want to be nice, we want to give people the benefit of the doubt, we don’t want to seem childish or afraid…you get the point. So we make nice…and often times this puts us in very vulnerable situations. If it doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right. End of story. You owe no one an explanation.
Finally, know this…you can always go home. ALWAYS. There is no shame. You’ve stepped out once, you can and will do it again. This IS life. Having a home base is a luxury not afforded to everyone. You have a family that would move mountains for you (just ask.) This is an incredible blessing.

There are a lot of people rooting for you, kid. Team MO is firmly in your corner! You’re going to do great…I just know it. Do your very best, make good choices, and have lots of fun. You are so loved.

The old is gone. The new is here. 2 Corinthians 5:17

A Case for Kitchen Walls (My Rally Cry Against Open Concept)

Posted on October 31, 2016 by hymningandhaing

The kitchen is the heart of the home. –author unknown

When I was a kid I remember telling my Mom all about my dream house. I mean, if Barbie could have a dream house…surely I could, too. In my simplistic, imaginary abode there would be few rooms (less to clean,) one room completely without furniture (reserved exclusively for me,) and absolutely NO KITCHEN. “How will you eat?” she asked, “Where will you prepare your food?” Okay, Mom, I didn’t have it all worked out. I always thought food was overrated anyway, but in a pinch I figured a microwave and a mini refrigerator would bail me out. Eventually, I developed a love for baking and thus a kitchen became a necessary evil in my small mind, but it still didn’t make me an overall fan of the kitchen. In fact at that point, I started championing the idea of paper everything. Paper plates, paper cups, disposable silverware, etc. I even spoke of inventing paper pots and pans (I was a tween at this point and HATED doing the dishes!) Finally, as a young adult preparing my own meals in a “one-butt” kitchen, I gave up on the idea of the “kitchen-free” home.

Fast forward many years (and many kitchens later,) and I practically double over laughing at myself for these crazy anti-kitchen ideas. Especially now that I claim the kitchen as my favorite room in the whole house. No, it’s not because I somehow became a master chef (we all know that didn’t happen.) The reality is that no one in my home seems to really enjoy being in the kitchen. For our family, the kitchen is for doing homework afterschool and grabbing the occasional meal together. This means that I basically have this room all to myself, ALL THE TIME. As an introvert…this qualifies as my own little inner sactum. And I like it that way. So when everybody on HGTV demands open concept, I’m the one screaming at the television, “DON’T DO IT!” Keep your walls, people. Whatever you do, keep your walls!!!

Obviously, no one is listening to me. Kitchen remodels are underway as we speak and the people are clamoring for the open concept. Apparently, we’re all hosting large dinner parties and get-togethers thus making the need for a life without walls mandatory. I believe the folks on HGTV call this ideal for “entertaining” and everyone on the planet is doing this but me! Look, I’ve had the open concept kitchen before. It meant that I was subject to watch/listen to whatever the person in the “family” part of the room had on the television. It meant no private phone calls. It meant constant interruptions. If I wanted to take in a little talk radio or music (as I am prone to do,) I had to do so via ear buds which meant I couldn’t hear my kiddos (this is imperative as everyone knows that the best time to act up is when mom is out of earshot.) The open concept was also problematic whenever company decided to drop by unexpectedly (as is apt to happen in a parsonage.) Oh yes…on HGTV the kitchen portion of the open concept is always spotless. In real life, however, the kitchen is a constant work in progress. I don’t know about you, but a pile of dishes in the background quickly negates any inclination toward hospitality. I just remember feeling so self-conscious. I know, real friends don’t judge…but come on, it’s a little weird to have your breakfast leftovers hanging out for all to see. Then there’s the smell. Okay, we all burn the bacon every once in a while, but sitting down on your couch and catching a whiff of it in the fabric of your decorative pillows hours later is just not worth it. And since I’m laying out my case, have you ever noticed that food travels just a little easier in the open concept home? Toddlers suddenly believe that mac and cheese is good at the kitchen table, but even better on the living room floor. Uuugggghhhh.

I could go on and on about the pitfalls of the open concept, but what really inspires me are all the perks of having a “real” kitchen (complete with WALLS.) This is my space. I control the lighting, the radio, and the level of activity in this room. I can quickly whip something up for dinner or I can methodically (and slowly) try out a new recipe with the level of concentration a less-than-great cook requires. I can spread out without the risk of someone “observing” and judging the madness. I can multi-task and take my time cleaning up (or better yet, I can just walk away.) Like a dictator, I can make sure food doesn’t wander out of this space. While kitchen smells always migrate, I am less likely to catch a whiff of “Taco Tuesday” in the couch cushions on Wednesday morning. Still, my all time favorite argument in defense of kitchen walls is that I can dance. A lot. I can blast New Kids on the Block, George Strait, or my non-stop Christmas music and jitterbug, two-step and let loose to my heart’s delight. It’s at times like these that walls make all the difference.

I’m no interior designer (and no one is asking,) but I have a feeling that the open concept is here to stay. As much as I love HGTV, I am fully aware of the more/bigger/better/different agenda that permeates our culture and homes. Still, I will not be deterred. Say it loud, say it proud…I AM ALL FOR WALLS…because if cooking is good for the soul, then the sanctity of the kitchen must be a personal heaven.

When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter the silence. (Lamentations 3:28)

A Lesson in Ponytails

Posted on February 21, 2016 by hymningandhaing

“I am not a perfect mother and I will never be. You are not a perfect daughter and you will never be. But put us together and we will be the best mother and daughter we would ever be.” – Zoraida Pesante

Lately, I’ve been marveling at my daughter. It’s not that she’s doing anything special really…it’s just that she’s growing up and I’m trying to take it all in. I get like this sometimes with my kiddos…making an extra effort to be super present, wondering what they’re thinking and how their brains work…basically just staring at them (sometimes they catch me–that’s a teeny bit awkward!) The funny thing is, that while she may not actually be getting any taller (she’s doomed to be short like her mother,) I can see all kinds of other changes…in her maturity, her personality, and the way she carries herself. She’s really becoming her own person and as a consequence separating from me…at least as much as any 11-year-old should be allowed to do. So when I came across this article titled What Your Ponytail Says About You on the Man Repeller website, it really caught my eye.

You see, Casey and I both LOVE long hair. I would say about ninety percent of the time we both choose to wear our hair down, but we are not strangers to ponytails. As soon as Casey’s hair was long enough, I would put it in pig tails or a nice high pony. I loved fixing her toddler hair and adorning it with those cutesy little girl bows! Then came Disney Channel and it wasn’t long before she boycotted wearing her hair up and started favoring long locks carefully styled with a head band (a la “Gabriella Montez.”) No more funny “fountain” ponytails on the top of her head! Recently, however, after years of only wearing ponytails to play sports, she has decided that the pony is in style again…only now it’s on her terms. This is what made the ponytail article stand out. No longer would she settle for my favorite style (the high pony,) but rather she preferred the low and parted ponytail–and she could style it all by herself, thank you very much. The low and parted ponytail, the one the Man Repeller article labeled the “champagne” of ponytails for its elegant and timeless look. The description basically screamed “Casey.” It went on to say that this was the look of someone who is “making a knowing decision to look put together.” Yes, that’s my girl.

So, out of curiosity of course, I had to look up the hidden meaning to my go-to ponytail look–the HIGH pony (a look I’ve been sporting for practically my whole life!) Turns out it’s the preferred style of those who exercise (what?) and it’s also great for “signaling that you don’t give a what!” Apparently this is a very versatile look and its meaning depends upon the method in which it is executed (combed and smoothed, tousled and messy…that’s a lot to read in to a ponytail!) It goes on to say that the “high ponies are the maxi dress of their kind,” suggesting that the look is only for some and definitely NOT for all! This made me giggle. Here I am a forty-year old wife and mother, and the high pony has always been my go to updo. Yes, I like the “fountain” as my daughter so affectionately calls it (did I mention that she’s pretty well versed in sarcasm these days?) The high pony is my all-time favorite!

All fun aside, this was just a cute reminder that while we have so many mother-daughter similarities, my girl is certainly growing up and developing her own thoughts and ideas. It’s causing both a swelling of pride and quite a bit of anxiety as well. In a matter of months, we’ll be talking about locker décor and what table she landed at for lunch in the middle school cafeteria. We’ve already had numerous conversations (or was it disagreements) about clothes and shoes…not to mention what’s in and what’s definitely OUT! Occasionally, I get to be labeled “cool,” but mostly I “just don’t know anything.” Still, I’m the first person she comes running to on a bad day, when she doesn’t understand something, or gets herself into a jam. Which just goes to show that what goes around, comes around. My own mother probably has loads of stories about my tween/teen years and the occasional ups and downs of our relationship back then. And I know that when I talk with fellow mothers today, it seems we’re all in some kind of yo-yo territory with our own girls at one time or another…a reality of growing up.

So, I may not be fixing her ponytails anymore…and that’s okay because every girl has to learn to style her own hair. It’s all just part of the process. And while I learned through curling iron burns, crazy perms and tons of AquaNet…it’s fun to watch her develop her own sense of style. (And in some ways I think she’s got the advantage–we didn’t have YouTube tutorials back in the day!)

May your ponytail be high (or low) and your mother/daughter relationship blessed 🙂

Hair doesn’t make the woman, but it definitely helps! –Unknown

Dear Daughter…Marry a Chef (You’ll Thank Me Later)

Posted on October 9, 2015 by hymningandhaing

Eating is a necessity but cooking is an art. —Unknown

When I was a kid, I would tell my mother that I wanted to live in a house without a kitchen. Actually, if I remember correctly, we had several conversations about it. I’m fairly certain that I’ve even brought up the subject with a couple of past boyfriends (just to let them know what they were in for—yes, I’m a courteous girl :).) And my poor husband, he knows all too well how much I LOATHE the kitchen. Turns out that it’s not really the kitchen that I have a problem with…I mean I always planned to have a microwave and a refrigerator (I’m not stupid.) What I really hate is the COOKING that takes place in the kitchen!

Kiss the Cook 🙂

Maybe my dislike for cooking comes from possessing a very plain and boring palate. For example…I’m pretty much a beans and rice girl. When we go out for dinner I typically choose one of three entrees: cheeseburger, pizza or chicken, and I’m not really into sweets. There isn’t an adventurous bone in my body when it comes to trying new foods (asparagus anyone?) And I’m actually very okay with this. I view eating in the same manner that I see the need for sleep–a mere necessity and nothing more. I have a hard time relating to a lot of my foodie friends who rave about their latest food find and go on and on about “pairing” this delectable tidbit with that scrumptious delicacy (am I even using those words right?) I really just don’t get it.

In my own defense, I WANTED to get it. I wanted to be a so called “expert” in the kitchen. While I make a mean sandwich, there actually was a time when I secretly aspired to be whiz in the kitchen. I own a lot of cookbooks, including the elusive Joy of Cooking CD-ROM (lol) and at one point I was absolutely addicted to the Food Network. Like many stay-at-home moms, Paula Deen, Bobby Flay, Tyler Florence, and Ina Garten (aka the Barefoot Contessa) were not only my idols, but also my best friends. As soon as it was acceptable for me to turn off Nickelodeon (11am or so) I would quickly click the channel to see what my “friends” were whipping up for lunch and dinner. Never has anyone been more into “homemade” and “from scratch” as yours truly. I was rolling out dough, making my own stock, and a regular in the fresh herb section at our local supermarket. I’m not sure if I crossed the line into “cooking obsessed,” but I’m pretty sure I was right on the edge. When my three year old daughter started to request tuning into Rachael Ray instead of Dora the Explorer I finally woke up.

To be honest, I was spending a lot of time, energy and money on a hobby that I hated. Not only did I not enjoy cooking, but truth be told, I was NOT very good at it. In hindsight, I realize that I was fighting a losing battle. Don’t get me wrong…I have the utmost respect for foodies and chefs alike. It just turns out that it’s not my thing. Slowly, I stopped turning in to the Food Network and filling my time with other things. I began adhering more to the Sandra Lee method of food prep—“Seventy percent store-bought, ready-made plus 30 percent fresh allows you to take 100 percent of the credit.” Her kitchen motto was all that was left of my so called “love of cooking.”

Needless to say, my family didn’t starve to death. Not once has any one ever said, “Oh, Anna, how I wish you could go back to making (fill in the blank.)” While there are few remaining recipes that I rely on all these years later, I don’t really sweat it…especially since my children inherited my same plain and boring palate. We primarily live on the basics: a variety of chicken dinners, tacos, spaghetti, LOTS of sandwiches and whatever my husband can grill. It’s not exciting, but it fills a hole. What used to make me feel like a failure as a wife and mother, now has crossed over into the realm of acceptance. I no longer want to be a good cook. If I could, I honestly would quit cooking altogether and live on cereal. Unfortunately, that is not an option. Sigh.

So here it is…I am over the mom pressure from the foodie crowd (I couldn’t grow or can anything to save my life.) I will be the first one to shout from the rooftops that being a successful wife, mother, & homemaker doesn’t mean that you are required to be a culinary genius, too. Just because you stay home with your kids does not mean your worth and value is tied up in what’s for dinner. Serving chicken nuggets does not make you less of a woman. I wish someone had told me all of this years ago. Today, the only chef I pay attention to on the Food Network is Guy Fieri…and that’s because I like to drool over the food (mostly cheeseburgers and barbeque) he samples on “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.” Mmmmm….

I completely understand that no “knight-in-shining-apron” is going to come to my kitchen rescue anytime soon. Research shows that even in today’s modern society, woman are responsible for nearly 80% of household food prep. And while a growing number of men are becoming more and more comfortable in the family kitchen, I realize that meals will continue to fall into the woman/wife/mom category for the foreseeable future. And that’s okay because I’ve already been coaching my daughter to marry a chef. Problem solved. (You’re welcome.)

Today’s menu has two choices: TAKE IT or LEAVE IT!

My Purse Keeps Getting Bigger (and Not for the Right Reasons)

Posted on April 22, 2015 by hymningandhaing

As the purse is emptied, the heart is filled. –Victor Hugo

My briefcase-sized purse…easily weighs 8-10 pounds.

Remember the good ol’ days? Footloose and fancy free? Not a care in the world? I do…and what I remember most about them was that everything that I truly NEEDED fit into the palm of my hand. Gone are the days of tucking cherry-flavored Chapstick into my pocket and heading out the door. No more securing a dollar bill to the inside of my sock…you know, just in case. Forget about making room in your shoe to save that last piece of gum for later (seriously, forget about that–it’s a bad idea.) All of these good times ended at about age 16…the year where freedom (a.k.a. driving) meant that you had to carry proof that you were indeed legal behind the wheel! Thus one enters the era of THE PURSE….

At first, having a purse made me feel all grown up. My purse contained nothing but the necessities, right? This is sorta funny because at the time I remember searching my room frantically for items to fill my purse. You know–a comb, lipstick, gum/candy/breath mints (sometimes ALL three), a pen. perfume (I know…I’m sorry,) a stylish journal (for all my important thoughts) and of course a wallet for money…plus that prized driver’s license (the reason I desperately needed a purse in the first place.) In the beginning the purse was pretty small…always messenger style so I could wear it across my body. This is important, because when you’re new to carrying around a purse you need one that you can’t lose…just saying. The purse and I became sympatico and a love/hate relationship was established.

By the time college came around I had to re-evaluate the whole purse thing. Life was changing–big time! I found that college life required a backpack and not necessarily a little messenger purse. The school that I attended was situated on top of a hill, so a lot of walking was a given. Fortunately, I found an item that I refer to as a wallet-keychain. This nifty little gadget became my best friend for four years. It tucked nicely into the backpack, held the bare essentials (license, student ID, money, and bank card) and was attached to my keys! Genius. I wished I had discovered it in high school. This would make everything better…or so I thought. But the purse would eventually have its revenge.

After graduation I ventured into a career path that required some “primping” to say the least (I am only slightly embarrassed to say that I wanted to be the next Connie Chung 🙂 ) Carrying a make-up bag, a brush and comb, etc. was just the norm for this girl with big dreams. Add onto that the things I needed for work: a pen (a back up pen,) a notebook, tapes (and back up tapes,) and HAIRSPRAY! Then there were the snacks (you wondered when I would get to this point?) You see, when your lunch hour varies (or doesn’t necessarily exist) you need more than gum to sustain yourself. Small packages of crackers, cookies and even instant coffee started entering the picture and filling my (now bigger) purse. My shoulder aches just thinking about those days.

I wish I could say that changing career paths meant less stuff and a smaller purse. It didn’t…and mostly because I moved to California. You’re probably wondering why that matters, but it does matter and maybe not for the reasons you might think. It wasn’t that I needed a big purse so that I could keep up with the Kardashians, but rather I needed a purse filled with survival supplies. While California is amazingly beautiful, it’s also a jungle! And jungle life meant that you had to be ready for your 11 mile commute to take as long as two hours. If you had to cross a bridge, someone else’s fender bender might have you looking at a 3 hour delay. Traffic is ridiculous there and so you had to pack ridiculous things in your purse. Water was just as big a deal then as it is now. Carrying around water bottles was not only in vogue, but it could save your life on a warm, Cali day if the traffic was particularly uncooperative (especially when you AC goes out!) Food in your purse was a must, but because this was the Golden State you felt obligated to have “healthy” food. Fruit, nuts, cheese and crackers were the standards–and “fresh” food meant carrying a cold-pak, too. I pity the person who got busted stuffing their face with Cheetos on the California freeway! (Really, you should know better!)

But never was the purse’s revenge as terrible as the day I become a mother. It’s like I could hear the purse saying, “You will never, EVER go back!” I tried making my purse into a diaper bag and when that didn’t work I asked the diaper bag to do double duty as a baby-things-carry-all and a purse. Either way you look at it, I was carrying around a bunch of nonsense. Okay, you’re thinking…”Well, your kids weren’t toddlers forever, right? Eventually you went back to carrying around a plain old purse.” Well, yes AND no. Now that I was a mom I discovered this unwritten rule where you are forced to carry things for your kiddos. This form of servanthood is sneaky, even to the most savvy mother. So many times I have told my children that if they brought it, they had to carry it…only to find my purse a little heavier and their book, toy, or gadget safety tucked inside while my child proceeded to run and do hand stands all over the place with their newfound freedom.

My migration to the extra-large purse didn’t end with just the kids’ stuff. My purse also doubles as a medicine cabinet. Bandages, Neosporin, allergy medicine, etc. all make their home here as well. I am the keeper of Kleenex, keys and bubble gum (of various flavors nonetheless.) My purse houses accessories for cleaning glasses, and extra contact lenses as well as a portable hair salon equipped with fashionable hair-ties for my daughter. Need to write something down? I have pencils, pens and SHARPIES (assorted colors) in my bag! Not to mention lotion, hand sanitizer, post-its and a small magnifying glass (BTW I’m aging and my eyes were the first things to go.) I have ear buds, sunglasses and occasionally pizza crumbs (don’t ask.) These are just the staples, I could go on (and on….)

So why am I telling you all this? Because I want it to stop. REALLY. I am over the purse thing. I want to be the kind of person who just goes with the flow (sans the “luggage.”) The kind of person who doesn’t need a million accessories just to go to the grocery store or to watch my kiddos play ball. I want to go back to the days when everything I NEEDED fit into the palm of my hand. I am craving simplicity and I think the reason all of this has to come to a head is because physically AND spiritually the purse is weighing me down. Stop. I know that’s a pretty big leap, but hear me out. I finally understand the reason I carry around the equivalent of a briefcase everywhere I go, 365 days a year. It’s because of fear and control. Every time a situation has come up in the last 20+ years and I DIDN’T have the tools I needed to handle it, another “something” was added to the purse. This is a pretty big revelation for me. While feigning having it all together, what was really going on was a lack of trust. I didn’t trust myself, I didn’t trust life and in someway I was also saying that I didn’t trust God (at least not completely.)

My new wristlet…smaller than a paperback book!

After so many years, it’s going to be hard to change this pattern…to fight the urge to cover all the bases, at all times–EVERY time. The desire to be superwoman, superwife, supermom, etc. is so very strong. Listen, I know this isn’t the biggest problem on the planet, but I feel convicted to make a change. I want to trust more…to put myself out there. In some suburban-housewife-kind-of-way…this is my next faith test. So here’s where I am–I purchased a wristlet (which just may be the grown-up version of the wallet-keychain that I loved so much in college.) Full disclosure–right now the wristlet resides in my purse (along side a million other items,) but I am making a plan to downsize to this little dandy. Just the NECESSITIES! Those of you who know me, know that this is a tall order! I think I’m up to the challenge. Don’t worry, I’m not going cold turkey…I will still have a large bag (NOT a purse) for sporting events, kid-related activities and church projects. So what if I don’t have a bandage for every boo-boo or a just the right flavor of gum for my kiddos? I have a funny feeling (and a whole lot of FAITH) that we will survive…and it just might save my shoulders, too!

Then Jesus asked them, “When I sent you without purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?” “Nothing,” they answered. Luke 22:35

hymningandhaing

balancing faith, family & a few dozen other things on the yellow brick road

Tag Archives: women