Vacay Mom Thing

I’m writing via iPad and bluetooth keyboard. It's not entirely as efficient as typing on my MacBook but you know what? It’s cool. I like it. I haven’t busted out the old Bluetooth keyboard for a few reasons, but one was the simple fact that “our” iPad really became “The Kids’ iPad.” It has since been reclaimed. I’m not saying it will never land in sticky hands again. Oh, no. I’ve learned that in the murky woods of Parent Hood, nothing is impossible. But for now it’s mine again, and I cackle over it like Snow White’s crabby stepmother. Kindle e-books! YouTube videos on a bigger screen (yes, I do have the iPhone 7 Plus, shutty)! Adulthood! Possibilities!

You’re laughing but that’s just because you haven’t sold your soul to Apple yet. That’s okay. You’ll join the dark side soon enough. In fact, I find your lack of Apple disturbing, says the crowd of minions, crouched over their glowing orbs - I mean “iPhones.”

Whatever, man.

So guys. We’re going on vacation in a few weeks. We’ve taken almost no vacations before. There were the occasional weekend trips to the “city” a couple of hours away and one family sojourn to Branson, but this is The Big One. Barring any disasters, we’re road-tripping all the way up to Maine and The Big Apple. Niagara Falls and also Indiana (it’s an overnight stop, don’t ask questions).

No one will be in diapers and there will be no bottles. My youngest is approaching five years old. Dang. That happened fast, but also it didn’t.

I’m far more concerned with this one random oddity that my children all three seem to possess - but the boys in particular. And here it is. Motion sickness. I swear my kids vomit recreationally. I think we may have used an entire bottle of 409 on one drive to Texas when Micah was a toddler. Don’t talk to me about toxins. The toxins came straight outta my kid. You weren’t there. I'm stocking up on Dramamine Jr and the doctor has sanctioned the use of Benadryl if all else fails. Under-eye war paint is in place. Let's take this hill.

In the planning stages of this trip I have realized that I have That Mom Thing, wherein a trip is rarely exciting until it’s very close. I’m actually shocked that enthusiasm is starting to creep up on me a month out. There’s a ton to do in preparation for a trip - which is daunting, right, Moms? My husband has been excited since we started planning. And Full Vacation Brain overtakes him on that first morning that he wakes up without a mandatory alarm set. Notice I said “mandatory” alarm, because he will set an alarm. You’ll see. Rather, I will. *side-eyes Weird, Happy Vacation Man* Even though we haven’t taken many legitimate vacations, I’ve witnessed this phenomenon on a few short weekend road trips. I, on the other hand, feel that vacation begins with a good sleep-in.

But despite all of my crankiness - despite That Mom Thing, my brain is starting to buzz with visions of New York City and the east coast. I am so eager to experience this classic American city, but I’m also hoping I can safely navigate the crowds with my mini people in tow. I’ve tried to plan well, but I know I will only learn some things by experience.

Mini travel fan for the hotel room(s)? Check.
Overpriced crunchy sunscreen? Check.
Multiple-device USB charger for the car? Check.

I feel like that covers all of my bases.

Good night, y’all.

Reclaiming Mother's Day

I have a confession about Mother's Day.

Mother's Day always makes me feel awkward and kind of alone. Okay, that's not entirely true. Mother's Day is almost always great. Mother's *DAY* is full of cards from my kids and sweetness from my husband. I rarely have a bad Mother's Day anymore.

But there's this horrible process that I fight through almost every year. Maybe every year? I try not to dwell on it when it's over. The days leading up to Mother's Day are usually awful. Culminating in an eventual breakdown in front of my poor husband.

Here's the thing about me. If you've read my blog for long then you know that I've openly shared my story of depression. That seems emotional and deep-ish and vulnerable, right? The truth is, that kind of honesty - rather, the reaching of that kind of honesty, was tough. It wasn't immediately natural. So now that I've shared that raw and painful part of who I am, I deal with this nagging fear that any other "vulnerable" shares or stories that I might put out there will pile on to the existing narrative, painting me as a fragile human being -- someone who is emotional and broken.

And here's where that thing about me shows up. I'm actually not super emotional. I'm human and I have my moments, but my husband often tells me how... un-female? that I seem since I'm pretty logical and less led by emotions. I don't entirely buy into the whole "females are just so unbearably emotional" narrative but that's another subject. The exceptions to my control are things that appeal to my maternal instincts now that I have kids. Show me suffering and I am WRECKED. But yelling and stomping and losing my crapola? I really prefer to just get alone or have a conversation and sort stuff out. Yeah. Sorry. Just bear with me. I'm not bragging. You'll see.

Mother's Day lead-up screws with me like nothing else. I dread it for the entirety of pre-Mother's-Day May.

And I cannot stop it. My typical, logical, just-make-sure-the-house-is-clean-and-I'll-feel-better-about-things mentality runs away and waves at me from across some massive ocean placed right in the middle of LOL GOOD LUCK, USA.

There is no amount of logic or control that will save me. I don't think there's any amount of love that could save me from it either just yet.

My Mom was abusive.

I have to sit for a beat after I write that. Someone will get upset. Candi said the a-word. Yeah. I did. The mental games and the physical altercations, although less frequent than the mental jacking, were real. They happened to me.

I haven't seen my mom in something like three and a half years. My kids do not see her. I know what she has done to me and some of what she has done to others. I know the things that she has said and continues to say about myself and my siblings. The threats. The always-deniable threats and horrible things.

Mother's Day screws with me. What terrible lottery meant that I didn't deserve a mother who adored me? Why am I still so dang tender there after all of these years? I have so much. That's the internal dialogue that I live with. I should be okay. I should be fine by now. I should be over it.

This brings me to the only reason why I'm putting my fingers on the keyboard and talking today. Speaking the truth though my virtual voice shakes.

It feels like no one else feels this pain surrounding Mother's Day. And just to be clear - I had an awesome Mother's Day today. As usual, the day is great. But the lead-up was terrible.

I am not broken. I am not pathetic. I am not fragile. I remind myself of this all of the time. Pain is universal, although the catalyst for that pain varies so widely. Some scars stay tender.

I am not sad today. I am grateful. But I'm going to speak the truth. Sometimes mothers hurt us, too. Sometimes we aren't ever good enough. Sometimes you look back at a good season in your relationship with a toxic person and ask why things couldn't stay that way. And then you wonder if they were ever as good as they seemed. How could things turn ugly so fast over and over?

It's likely that there is no one or not many who know this particular pain in my Facebook feed or in whatever circle this post will find itself shared. It's possible. But I am writing it just in case.

If you find yourself feeling not-yourself before Mother's Day - a holiday that is so worth celebrating. A holiday that I hope my kids look forward to as I grow old. Celebration I strive to be worthy of every day. If that's you? You are so not by yourself. But it's getting a little bit better every year, I think. And that gives me hope. I hope it gives you hope, too.

And again.

I'm okay. I'm okay right now. I will probably be not okay the week before next Mother's Day. But I'm tired of no one talking about this and I don't know what else to do but to start.

And if anyone decides to show this to my mom, even though that's not the purpose of this blog - Mom? I will always love you. But you cannot be in my life right now and that will not change without a long period of stable behavior and some sincere apologies. I have no hate in my heart for you. I pray for your heart to truly change. I pray that it is possible. Even though you think I'm going to Hell and you think I'm less than nothing. I still pray for you.

And I'm okay. You hurt me over and over. You hurt my siblings - some of the people I love more than anything in the world. You still hurt me when I relive the damage. I feel certain that you won't get it. You will scoff and, once again, say that I am spiteful. But I'm living my life and gosh, Mom, it's so beautiful. You have no idea. My kids are so great. My husband gets better every year. You are missing so much, and as of right now, that can't change.

So here we are. I'm at Starbucks on Mother's Day because my husband, even with his poor injured back, is holding down the crazy fort so I can spend some time reflecting here as I sip my Americano.

I have so much gratitude in my heart right now.

To Paula - my friend and adopted-by-love mom, thanks for coming to see me and managing to show up for me without making it weird that you know Mother's Day kind of sucks for me. You're a true gem. I'm grateful for you.

Hubby, thanks for seeing through the awfulness that is Pre Mother's Day at our home. Thanks for reminding me that I'm not failing. I don't know how God picked someone so suited to hear my heart and really see me - this sassy, analytical, technical girl who is still kind of messed up.

Everyone who has read this, I hope that you can't relate. I hope you have no idea how this feels. I hope that gets to be your story. But if not, I hope you're okay, or at least almost okay. And if you're not even close, please know that at the very least, you are so not alone.

Dad, I love you and you are such an example of unconditional love. That's my favorite thing about you. You have never let pride be more important than love. That's what it's all about. That's it. That's parenthood and relationships in a nutshell. Thank you for modeling it. For being sorry when it's time to be sorry and protecting me to the best of your ability. I'm so grateful for you, you hilarious, corny man.

I could go on, but I can't name everyone fairly. There are too many beautiful people in my life who have made it worth the trek up and out of fear and depression. My siblings, in-laws, friends, church family - thanks for every time you listened.

I hope this story is helpful to someone. It's not a cry for pity. It's just that this is my story. And I'm going to tell the truth and let it set me free.

Monday Flowers, TV and Books

Look who suckered Mom into planting flowers today?

That is not what I went to Wal-Mart for. I was actually browsing for cilantro plants, also not what I went to Wal-Mart for, and the selection was sad and frail. Someone broke out the "Please, Mommy" and I left with more than the potting soil I planned to grab to re-pot AJ's sunflower seedlings from her first grade classroom.

Here we are planting Cosmos that we just hope aren't doomed. Why are we trying this again? What did I smoke today?

She looks awfully cute shoveling potting mix, doesn't she?

We tossed the remainder of our potting mix into a barren flower bed and scattered our leftover seeds there. 

Here are our re-homed sunflower seedlings just before I moved them to a sunnier spot. I hold out hope that I can stop killing things. We'll see.

The kids are outside while I remind them occasionally to stay out there and soak up the vitamin D. Guyyyys. Trust me, you need this. The hotter days are coming. Bask in this perfect seventy degrees. Bask. In. It.

I got randomly sucked into a reality TV series recently, which is really not like me. Dumb reality shows tend to make me roll my eyes, and even "good" ones tend to be too cheesy or staged for me to stay with for long. This weird series (okay, it was Marriage Boot Camp: Reality Stars if you must know) threw me hard into the re-realization of how. much. relational dysfunction is really in the world. Far from giving me a feeling of self-righteousness, it reminded me how easy it is to find yourself floundering in an ocean of immature and toxic characters and lifestyles if you aren't grounded in the presence of people who have good goals and healthy boundaries. And for many people, those toxic circles feel impossible to escape because once there you can't see how bad it really is or how far you need to remove yourself to escape it. Your vibe so attracts your tribe. And your tribe so matters.


In unrelated news, I picked up a new-to-me book last week - Black Like Me - all about a white journalist's immersion into black culture in 1959 through a process of darkening his skin via medication and stain. This specific perspective is rare if not unheard-of aside from his specific project. The process of having lived as both black and white (however impossible it would be for a person to fully experience life as a different race than their own - and I freely acknowledge that it is not in fact entirely possible) allowed John Howard Griffin to offer a voice that was obviously unique in his time within predominantly white circles. It was a revealing and candid look into racial inequalities in the south during the late 20th century. His accounts of patronizing tolerance painted as non-racism were so well-stated, and I would love to hear the perspectives of others who have read this book. There are a vast number of topics covered in this book that are so worthy of discussion. Book club, anyone?

Our sweet neighbor brought us a delicious-looking dinner and I'm off to enjoy it. Thanks for reading, friends. And happy Monday to you. <3

Song, Water, and Vacuums

Listening to: Crazy Love by Michael Buble


Sometimes music is the best medicine. I'm a little sensitive in the auditory department, so I tend to forget about music until I have the opportunity to just sit and really listen. We recently(ish) procured a couple of Sonos hi-fi speakers and I just have to say - they are entirely worth the investment. This bitty white tower of remarkable projection and sound quality is life to me some days.

It was 80 degrees here today. I found myself sweating as I vacuumed out our Buick van. Vacuuming is a chore that I do not enjoy, and I have complained that none of the car washes here have free vacuums. It's not that I am unwilling to pay for the service, it's more about the fact that I *never* carry change. It's ironic to me that I can swipe my debit card to have my car washed but the vacuums never take cards. Who carries cash in 2017? The moms with clean vans, apparently.

Ooh, the Sonos has moved in to The Way You Look Tonight. Swoooooon. I want a glass of something delicious while I sit here listening now. But I digress. The kids decided that the eighty degree temps were warm enough for water play and in my recent efforts to say yes to their fun ideas more as well as cutting way down on screen time (says Mom as she types on the computer), I let them hook up the sprinkler under the trampoline. Their favorite. Water guns came out and they had a blast. I threw together some breakfast for dinner and let them eat on the porch.

I find myself transfixed in what I call I Hope You Remember moments. I gaze at my children wondering which of these moments will be woven into the fabric of their good childhood memories. It seems that every single person, no matter how difficult their childhood, has a safety net woven from the fibers of safe and happy moments. I consider my children to be experiencing a pretty happy childhood, and so I wonder - is this it? Will you remember this moment? Will it fade into the blur of your overarching impressions of your childhood, or will you have a snapshot of this precise moment? When you are grown and lying in bed, maybe somewhere on an adventure, will you long for the scene of skinny shirtless brothers licking popsicles and wielding water guns? Or the sight of your sister, wavy blonde hair dripping at the ends, frizzy curls around her face, running and yelling as she joins your fun and adamantly puts forth her suggestions for fun and games? I can't help but wonder. which of the yesses, however they barely managed to squeak out of my mouth, will make the memory cut? I know it's the fluffy dreamer girl inside me who longs to know, but it's a wonderful thing to think about.

Now Listening to: Josh Groban's To Where You Are

We have been teaching the kids Psalm 15 for 2.5 months. They learned Psalm 23 in January, but something about the following months caused our memory project to drag on this time. We're almost finished now, and it's precious to hear their sweet voices chime in as we practice it in the evening. Particularly Joe, who tends to pick up more than we realize.

GUYS. FOOLS RUSH IN JUST CAME ON. Andrea Bocelli & Katharine McPhee. My favorite version ever! As you may have noticed by the intermittent notations of song change, I'm not making it through this blog quickly. Pandora is just killin' it with my faves right now.

Well, it's cooling down outside and I need to dry off my passel of monkeys. Good night, guys!

Goodreads, Shows, and CS Lewis

The children who reside in my house and occasionally under my feet experienced a moment of intense grief this morning when their father and I announced that Youtube Kids was being removed from all of our devices for a time. The utter atrocity of life under this roof. Children who are forced to occasionally reevaluate the way they spend their time. It's like something from a Dicken's novel.

I've been working on some reading catch-up in The Life Giving Home by Sally Clarkson, which some of us are reading this year as a study at church. I just finished the March chapter and I'm moving into April (like I said - behind!), but I think the March chapter has been my favorite so far. I closed it inspired to expose my children to more artistic and natural experiences as much as is possible.

On the subject of books, I have recently discovered GoodReads and I can't believe I never used it before. It's social media for readers. SOCIAL MEDIA FOR READERS. I have found my people. Thank you, Life. You are not lame today. <3

I have decided recently that I think I need a bicycle. I used to love pedaling away down my street as a child, feeling like I was free and flying. Maybe it won't be as magical as an adult, but I'm up for the effort.

Due to a friend's recent recommendation I have been enjoying the delightful little series Lark Rise to Candleford. It's not new, but it was new to me, and thanks to Amazon Prime Video I have been zipping through it when I have a spare moment here or there or happen to be folding laundry or washing dishes. Does anyone else pull the iphone-propped-on-the-windowsill maneuver when they're alone on the kitchen cleaning up? This sweet trip back into the 1800s has been such a breath of fresh air. I'm experiencing the deep urge to hunt down a copy of The Story Girl - a favorite book from my childhood - and give it a read with fresh, grown-up eyes.

While reading CS Lewis a year or so ago, he mentioned the concept of chronological snobbery, and it stuck with me. The fallacy that newer is better. Younger is wiser - more informed. Life seems to continually remind me that the real challenges and desires in front of us now tend to mirror those faced by those who have gone before. The details may change, but the challenges tend remain the same generation after generation. Things like need, poverty, the need for forgiveness and grace, loneliness, a desire to feel purposeful and wanted. Such running themes throughout lives and generations and eras and the world over. It's fascinating.

Well, my honey is home and The Voice is on. Cheerio, friends. <3

Two Year Olds, Books, Plays, Marketing, and Hummus

My two year old nephew is here today and has been here for a couple of nights, which has been a crash course in the hilarity and irrationality of toddlers.

How is it that the sands of time move so quickly and quietly that we lose touch without having known that we've lost it? My sensory child has some quirks that make him seem younger than 4.5 to me, but he's certainly not two.

There's very little reasoning with a two year old. How did I forget my own two year olds? "You can help me on the am-poline," Jason insists. I'm a little busy so I delay. "Ask Joe to help you get on the trampoline, he's big!" The faltering yet bold reply, "Youuuuuu can ask you to help me on the am-poline."

Earlier an "accidental" snooze on the couch while they play results in yellow highlighter all over my desk. Where did he FIND that?! Oh wait. My house isn't baby-proof anymore - which means it's even less toddler-proof. I sigh to myself, glad it wasn't a black sharpie, as I pick up the shredded box of cards that's lying in the hallway. Less you misunderstand, he has been a hilarious little riot and we have enjoyed having him. And also my sister (his mom) will just laugh at this blog and tell me that I deserve it for the many times I corrected her when she said "to" and meant "too." At least, I'm giving her permission to laugh (are you reading this, Mandi?).

I recently finished Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, and I won't give any spoilers, but it was definitely different than the books. It was difficult to determine where character deviations were meant to depict the softening that comes with age and parenthood and where they pointed to the other non-Rowling contributors to the script. Either way, I'm glad I read it, but the dialogue leans a bit further into the dramatic than the first seven works. At points it could even be cheesy, but these are observations from someone who has only read the play and not seen it onstage. Perhaps skilled actors and actresses could deliver the nuance more effectively than the audiobook reader managed to do.

After finishing the aforementioned play, I picked up Love Wins by Rob Bell and I've given up on it. It's just... weird? I selected it because it was available on Overdrive and I needed a new audiobook, but I probably should have red some reviews or at least a little about RB first.

I must say, I'd love it if Amazon's Whispersync technology could magically become available for ALL books. I'm reading so many books right now that I truly want to finish, but I tend to pick up a hardcopy and drift away from it, adopting a shiny new hardcopy and so on the cycle continues. I just can't manage to be immobile and focused long enough to read as many "real" books as I'd like. Audiobooks are my love. Ironically, I recently saw that a newish survey revealed that they are the least popular medium for literary consumption. I was shocked. How can others not share my wonder in the magic that is reading a book AND accomplishing other things? I do listen so much better when I'm completing some repetitive task like dishes or laundry, too, so there's that. Sit still while reading? How is this accomplished?

In random life developments, I picked up some hummus and enjoyed it for the first time ever. I have tried hummus two or three times and was less than enraptured. This variety comes from Costco and is roasted red pepper and tastes like a Mexican bean dip. We are loving it, and since it's organic, we pretend that portion control isn't necessary and there are no carbs. Adult logic, in other words.

Lastly, I've been slowly bolstering our movie collection. My husband might say it hasn't been THAT slow. But I managed a killer deal on a dvd of The Little Mermaid (which is in the vault at the moment) complete with digital copy code for under $10 on eBay. These are the kinds of victories that make you feel like a real winner when you're almost thirty and have kids in elementary school. My list of vault titles that we don't yet have is becoming shorter and shorter, and I can't wait for The Lion King to come back out in October. I also joined the Disney Movie Club when I saw their current offer, and that helped. (Full disclosure: the link is my referral link - free movies when friends sign up!)

Speaking of movies, can we discuss screen time? Specifically youtube? I feel like my kids would prefer Youtube Kids over any movies ever. EVER. I'm becoming really irked about this, while trying hard to maintain my chill as a parent who picks her battles. I just feel so marketed to, and feel that the kids are as well. It's one of those odd, not all THAT harmful, but annoying sort of things that just cause me to cringe without really being certain what to do about it. Even lame kid's tv shows seem to have a point, other than "here is this toy and all of these other toys, and you would love it and you need it." If your kids are into toy unboxings and similar things that are a part of this generation's youtube craze, how do you keep it all in balance?

And there you have it guys, my Friday afternoon stream of consciousness update from our corner of the world. How are you guys? <3

Year of Try

Guys. It's January 2017. What happened?

TWENTY-SEVENTEEEEEEN.

We are all old people now. Wrinkles are immaterial to this fact. You are living in 2017. We are space-agey and we talk to our phones when no one is on the other line. We are mature. We are modern. We are legit just because we live here. It's 2017 and we walk around in it like bosses. Or something.

I still feel like the Y2K scare was yesterday. I still think I just got rid of those heavy, thick, masculine sandals we all wore so proudly. I loved those things.

In 2017 I'm going to turn thirty. 3-0.

This blog seems to be all about numbers. Ew. But anyway. I'm turning thirty this year. Like the sandals of yore (AKA the late nineties), I feel like this has passed sort of quickly and I'm not ready.

Mostly because I don't feel like I thought I would feel at thirty. It's... weird. I have found myself leaving things behind that I should have broken up with much sooner and I love that. But I've also started to realize that maturity and richness in life boils down to fewer things than we would have suspected. Like shutting up more often (help), showing up for others more quickly, protecting your margins; shutting down toxic relationships.

There's also a lot of calendar management. Have mercy.

I also feel like I'm roughly 30% less mature and 30% more sarcastic than probably all of my friends. Will you guys PLEASE help me adult because I am just flying by the seat of my pants here.

I decided this year that I was going to try harder at a few things that I had to set aside or do less in the past few years. Things that were important to me, but survival at mom life took precedence.

Being a mom is like... the weirdest job ever. It's not the only job that forces you to think on your feet and be flexible, but it's the only job I know that changes so drastically so frequently.

Years spent holding babies and rock-rock-roooocking for hours to quiet a miserable, colicky, sensitive child that you just can't seem to figure out slowly morph into days with no one in diapers anymore. And for me, that still feels weird. Good weird, but weird nonetheless.

As we've slowly edged forward with our sensory kid, occasionally sliding backwards, adjusting, taping up our skinned knees, dusting off and moving back into forward motion, life has started to become more normal. It happened so gradually that I didn't really know it was happening for a long time, but it did.

So this year as I remember who I am without a person attached to me quite so much, I'm rediscovering old passions and interests, and it actually didn't come easy. I remember sending up quite a few prayers last year that I would enjoy those old things again. Cooking, creating, reading... writing. I even used to enjoy my housework to a point. I found ways to make my routines soothing with music or audiobooks, feeling myself calm as my home came to order under my busy hands. I baked bread because I loved to; sautéed vegetables because they were delicious and pretty.

God answers prayers in odd and mysterious ways, and my husband insisted that we buy a new stove. The dishwasher needed to be replaced, and we would get a better deal on the purchase of two appliances. My oven took roughly 45 minutes to heat up, so I winced at the expenditure and side-eyed my stove and my husband in turn and eventually gave in. It wasn't an expensive stove (as appliances go), but it preheats in 5-6 minutes flat and I'm pretty sure that means it's a sacred and holy thing. HALLELUJAH. What a great way to charge back into my culinary interests. It's been so fun to play with!

So I'm calling it. 2017 is the year of trying just a little harder when I don't quite feel like it yet. I'm already seeing the rewards and I'm so thankful. I know there's a popular saying from Star Wars that basically asserts that "trying" is a cop-out. But that's wrong. Real effort is never a cop-out. Trying hard may fall short of full achievement, but you're always further ahead than you were had you never tried in the first place. So it's cool with me if you want to steal my word of the year, ignoring anyone who calls it a cop-out. It's the year to try - just try your actual best and then see what happens.

Happy new-ish year.

Fluffy Blog Posts

Just so y'all know, I have nothing of real substance to offer. I just feel like writing.

It's Christmas time! It's also fi.na.lly. cold here. Cold-ish. Chilly and not hot. I'll take it. I can wear scarves! Boots! Plaids! I'm slightly bummed by the cliches that surround all of the fall love lately, though. It's kind-of a buzzkill, no? All of the you're-such-a-basic-white-girl-I'm-sure-you-must-drink-PSL-and-wear-a-top-knot-messy-bun. I sometimes wish we could embrace fun customs without making them a joke every single time. Anyone else feel me? I will drink my coffee and adore my fall leaves and rock my boots and sweaters and plaids all I want - even if you make it a cliche, thankyouverymuch. So there, internet. So. There.

In other unimportant happenings of late, I've recently become fixated on the amassing of a digital movie collection. I'm so weary of the VHS>DVD>Blu-Ray>3D>4KHD constant need to upgrade your movies or have nothing on which to play them. Black Friday found me combing specials for nice additions to our fledgling collection -- movies we love that come on DVD and/or Blu-Ray WITH digital copy, specifically iTunes. I hope this isn't a mistake. I hope digital movies don't become inaccessible. I hope I don't hate myself for this later. 

On this mission, I have observed a few things.

- Disney movies with digital copy do not go on sale all that much. I mean they kinda do - like three titles rotated through all of the ads on Black Friday and the following weekend. We grabbed Finding Dory. But overall, Dreamworks rules the discount movie circuit.

- With the impending move toward digital movie collections, phones and tablets are going to need to come with more memory in even the more basic smartphone options for those downloads saved for offline viewing. Borrrring, Candi. But it's true. *affectionate glance toward 128gb iPhone*


Next subject! Thanksgiving was what I would call a low-key riot. We spent the whole day waiting for the arrival of a new princessy niece of mine! She kept teasing us, making us all think she was coming so soon, then getting comfy again. I'm sure this was certainly harder on those of us in the waiting room perfecting the mannequin challenge than it was on baby's mother who was doing the actual work. Certainly. :-P

At one point the nurses and a lone security guard were watching our rowdy fam play a pretty entertaining round of Heads Up (or some similar iPhone charades game). They said we also did some singing in the waiting room but I'm sure that didn't actually happen. Ahem.

It was absolutely a Thanksgiving we will never forget. Pecan pie served up in the waiting room on the very cheapest of paper plates that we found at one of the few stores that were open. My two youngest kids were such troopers through the day in the waiting room (big brother was with other family at dinner). I'm sure their behavior was helped by the endless spoiling that comes from being stuck in a room with a load of your biggest fans. Hard life, they have.

After this eventful weekend, I found myself in my seat at church Sunday morning next to Joe, who was holding Thor and Iron Man. Waving Thor, Joe spoke for Thor, presumably to Iron Man, "Hey dude, what are you thankful for?"

Well. Iron Man is a smart-alec and didn't say much, but we're thankful for new babies, memorable holidays, people who put relationships above all else, and of course... digital movie collections.

#disneylifeyo

Christ and the Chronically Broken

Your love is like a waterfall, waterfall

Running wild and free

You hear my heart when I call, when I call

Deep calls to deep

Have you guys ever had a preconceived idea shattered and turned upside down, dumped, shaken out, and then slowly reassembled?

I feel like that has been the journey of my understanding of Christ over the last several years. 

Am I the only one who has had something so dark, so ugly, and heavy that they didn't know how to bring it to Jesus? Because Jesus is the polished, perfect Son of Holy God, right? I can surrender battles to him when I crack the code of offering them in a tidy, well-constructed prayer sprinkled with the right scriptures that "claim the promises" He has offered... right?

So what happens, one has to wonder, when we try so hard to surrender a broken part of ourselves, and it stays at least partially broken? What does that mean?

What if you find yourself coming to grips with the fact that God's plan is more about mobilizing people than strictly moving supernaturally? His plan to rescue foster children isn't a hallmark movie... it's just through the calling of flawed foster parents. Feeding the hungry may pull from our very own pantries. His plan for changing the world looks frighteningly like a plan to change... us.

What if the rescue He has for us is a hand in ours through every step of scary places? What if it is friends who show up at just the right moment, baskets of food on the doorstep, clothes for your kids shared by friends, an urge to check on a friend who is in a vulnerable and fragile place, a change of heart that causes us to be willing to educate ourselves about the special needs in our church/home/family/community? A new neighbor who somehow has experienced exactly what you are walking through?

The more I learn about Christ and His Body the more I understand that a faith community looks a lot more like a woven tapestry than an army or a club. Arms of need reaching out for help as arms of help reach out to give it - some of us being both needy and generous at once, in different ways.

In the past, this kind of talk seemed a lot like an attempt to offer God a free pass on all of the bad in the world. That's a cynical perspective, yet one that is common. But I have to tell you, it's hard to buy that after you have been on the receiving end of lavish grace and love from Christ's church at a time when no one but God could have known how badly you needed it. 

Depression is my story. Life-long. Sometimes worse, sometimes better. Never gone. Fear of being misunderstood as a pathetic and sad person when really sometimes I just was more like a person who felt pain or nothing at all. The nothing only brought more pain because it felt so inhuman. 

Go ahead and just imagine a long diatribe here about the stigma associated with chronic mental illness and we'll call it good. I'm going to fight the urge.

The miracle of God looked like me finally, after decades of struggle, sitting in a doctor's office with a handful of kleenex asking for help and receiving kindness and understanding. It looked like a load lifted when I left. It was found in understanding with the few people I shared it with (until now, hi, everyone else). It looked like no one assuming that I was dangerous because my brain was short on a crucial chemical. 

Sometimes it looked like the right information coming across my path - an urge to try a new schedule or routine, understanding and love from my husband, saying no to some things and yes to others, the blessed freedom to know that rearranging your plans in order to get enough sleep was absolutely A-okay. 

Sometimes the healing God offers is the freedom to start focusing on what is working and stop trying to look like you have it all together.

It's coming like a flood

I'm dancin' in the rain

I lift up my hands

Your love never changes

Amazing

Christ is not the figure who is politely and semi-patiently waiting for you to have your act nailed down so that you can serve in the full expected capacity at the church. No. He values you as a member of His Body - and His Body is The Church. Your story is unique, but also blessedly, wonderfully common. This whole mobile, reaching, saving, feeding, clothing, sheltering Body is full of chronically broken people. Praise be to God for His kindness and for the unmatched diversity within His family. 

You are uniquely and also not-so-uniquely called and qualified to be here. Your particular variety of brokenness may be chronic. It may never be fully healed like the cripple or the man with the withered hand, but it can be redeemed. There is no ill that does not give you a unique variety of empathy for another hurting soul or group of souls.

So my prayers have shifted and instead of begging for physical healing they sound more like this.

Jesus, You are welcome here.

God, use me.

I need you right now.

Please be near me, Lord.

Father, speak to me and help me help someone who needs You today.

Direct me, Lord, in this need that my child has.

Give me wisdom in all of my decisions.

Holy Spirit, you are welcome in my heart, my home, and my decisions.

And on the ugly days, a simple, "Father, I need your help" may be all that I can say. I treasure the presence that I have experienced in my days in moments that are so beautiful and lovely that I cannot help but see kisses from Heaven in the sunshine or the perfect patter of a soft rain. Just as blessed are those days that find a grown woman sitting on the floor seeking strength for the next moment and the next decision. 

Christ is not afraid of your chronic brokenness. He is running toward you without waiting for a perfectly-phrased invitation. An open invitation is all it takes.

Hallelujah You Are Good

Nothing streamlines my thoughts like music.

Sometimes I see reality as a montage set to music. I see beauty in the form of melodies dancing behind a beautiful moment I remember from the past.

But I love it when those montages bleed through to current moments - or moments that sit in the recent yesterday instead of the yesteryear.

You are with us
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
You are good.

My son is worrying me, guys. It's not because he has reached a critical point, it's because I have started to worry and play possible futures over in my mind and I just worry. I'm his mom. I just want him to be okay and I want him to be able to go to a mainstream school and function well socially, and sometimes I worry about tomorrow before I should.

And when faith gives way to fear
I will trust Your heart
I will trust Your heart
When I cannot feel You near
I will trust Your heart
I will trust Your heart

The truth is that I've been in a place of grief recently. I have invalidated our own struggles more than I should have. I didn't know that you grieve over every loss in a special needs family, even when your losses feel so insignificant. My son is physically healthy, but neurologically different.

I feel grief over the fact that my older kids lose my attention sometimes. I feel grief over the field trips I can't accompany when it's too much for my youngest child. I feel loss when I know my kids can't sit through a puppet show unless there is another adult who can take Joe because for now it's still too much.

There is guilt for all of the screen time that I allow because if I don't have enough quiet, I won't make it. Every ideal that used to play out for real in my home that's been cast aside somewhere along the way.

In the ashes and the dust
in the sorrow and pain
lies the promise of His word
and the power of His name

I grieve over potential losses that aren't even here yet. I don't understand this process. Or rather, I didn't. I didn't think that having a child with sensory differences would allow me a small peek inside the world of special needs families. I keep telling myself how different our journey is. Josiah doesn't have Downs Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, learning delays, or even ADHD. But special needs, no matter how high functioning, will change a family. The burden of need may be smaller, but the burden of life's expectations will rise to compensate for everything that your child is still able to do. And that means that the struggle is valid, regardless of the location of a family on the special needs spectrum. Understanding that has taken some personal concession on my part. Yes we are a special needs family. Yes we do need some accommodation sometimes, no matter how much I want that to not be our story.

I'm learning that the burden of the future sometimes lands squarely on today, and it requires us to constantly deflect it. No. Tomorrow can't have me today. I am staying here.

You are with us
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
You are good

Today I'm putting my glasses on my nose and leaving them there - the right ones, not the rose-colored ones or the shaded ones. I'm remembering everything I have seen so far and I'm keeping my eyes open for whatever is next.

There's a message being written through the morning sun
And a new song for the broken
Death has lost
Love has won


Maybe someone else will read these words at some point when they need the reminder.

Hallelujah
I have tasted
Hallelujah
I have seen it
Hallelujah
You are good

I am grateful for every God-breathed step forward, every person who has come across our path with love and understanding, every doctor, therapist, friend, child-care worker who has decided to love us and all of our kids. Every friend and family member who has checked on us at the right moment. I have tasted. I have seen it. We are not forgotten. He is good.

Hallelujah
I remember
Hallelujah
I believe it
Hallelujah
You are good

On Teaching Kids Not To Obey

I am not a parenting expert. I'm a mom with an opinion. Lets get that out of the way right now. I'm not going to try to list my qualifications, because aside from the fact that I'm the second of eight kids (lots of big sister hours logged here) and I have three kids, I have no real credentials.

But I want to talk about kids and obedience.

Growing up, I never thought the subject of obedience was a controversial one or worthy of much discussion, because I was taught to obey my parents. As I've grown to become an adult, then a mother and an auntie and a human being who lives in society, I've seen and heard a few things that cause me to ache inside. If you're expecting me to say that I hurt because "kids these days just aren't taught to miiiiind authority" then this isn't the blog for you.

No, I hurt because I have seen and spoken to adults who were once children who were taught to obey with absolute and unwavering compliance and it hurt them deeply. If you were taught to obey and it never caused you any harm, I hope you'll keep reading.

I started hearing moms ask, quite seriously, "Should I make my kids obey me?" And at first I didn't understand the question. I thought the answer was an obvious yes.

See, I expect my kids to obey me. I expect them to obey their dad and I expect them to obey their grandparents, and for the most part, their aunts and uncles and Sunday school teachers/small group leaders and their bus drivers and school teachers as well.

When a child of mine comes home in a huff about any of those persons in authority over them, I will side with the authority figure 99% of the time. Kids are kids with brains that are still developing, and they are, of course, immature and usually uninformed about the facts of many situations. I unapologetically consider myself a "straighten up and fly right" sort of mom. 

But I don't just talk to my kids about obeying authority these days. I am so thankful for the precious, willing, healing people who have shared personal stories that have taught me that there is more.

Now I also talk to my kids about when they should say no to authority. When they should kick up a fuss and make as much noise as they can and refuse to obey. I tell my kids that when authority is hurting your body or touching you in any way that is inappropriate, you stop listening and you tell someone that you trust. I tell them that it doesn't matter who it is. It doesn't matter if it's someone I like, love, or respect. It doesn't matter if it seems minor or silly, you can tell Mom and Dad. I have learned that these conversations have to happen early, and then I hope and pray that that information is never needed by my kids. I drill them from the time that they are toddlers on which parts of their body are "only theirs" and we recap often.

And sometimes I think we forget that the parents in our society are often wounded people. We tout that if only spanking made a real comeback, kids would learn respect. I'm not here to open that can of worms. But I want to turn our eyes toward the fact that if you or I have the blissful privilege of thinking that discipline is the only element lacking from society's parenting ideals, then we are so blessedly ignorant. 

I always knew that there were hurting people in the world, but I didn't always know that it is so many of us. This generation is not unique in that way - people have always been hurting each other - but the exposure and judgment are at an all-time high.

What if the mom with the wild kids is really scared to teach her kids to wordlessly obey? What if her biggest fear in all of life is setting up her children for the kind of hurt that she had to endure? If you think I'm pinning an entire world of poor parenting on extreme situations like abuse and molestation, let me assure you that I understand that that isn't the case. Maybe it's much simpler and no one ever modeled good parenting for the aforementioned mother? But I would also implore you to understand that there are more people in your circle who have lived through abuse than you will probably ever know.

So I guess this is the point of my blog today. Lets teach our kids to obey authority, but lets not be shy about teaching them when to say, scream, declare a confident "NO."

This Is Me Now

I have realized something about this point in the summer - sometime in July, maybe half(ish)way through. This is when summer gets old, I think. Maybe that's not you - maybe it's the toll of a sensory kid plus two big kids who don't always get along, maybe it's just this season of life, but I've felt it for the last two years.

Whether we're homeschooling that year or doing public school, around the middle or end of July, the unstructured structure gets old. Our loose routine has to be tightened up or we just won't make it. Most of the scheduled summer events are over and we can settle into more routine until school starts again.

I think this guy is ready to know what he can expect from life again.

This was Josiah last night while I was cooking. This is why I hate cooking right now. Once a big interest of mine, now I dread it and love pizza nights. Notice the splat of spaghetti sauce on the worn linoleum - I don't even know when that happened during the frenzy.

During the evening, this guy is winding down and needy and cranky.

Sensory differences can be so hard to explain to other people. I mean, they're easy enough to explain from a technical standpoint, but the complex factors and effects on a family's life are oddly difficult and unique to every home.

Sometimes I'm not sure how to explain what it's like to have weeks where I have to leave the house for a while in the evening one or more days simply because he has been so needy. I have to let Daddy take over because I can't handle being grabbed, rubbed, climbed on for another second. My ears and brain can't listen to any more too-loud conversations, overreactions, or tears. In the photos above, Josiah just wanted me to hold him. Easy enough if everything could always stop and no one had to eat.

For Joe, it's like having an itch that someone else has to scratch for you. He doesn't know how to fill his own sensory tank just yet. Shortly after these photos, Daddy took him to play in the living room. Often a rough wrestling session with Daddy is exactly what he needs, and he loves it. Being (gently) thrown around, (gently) shaken, rolled, getting to throw punches at Daddy's open hands and yell loudly - it scratches those itches that he still can't always identify.

Also, this is me right now.

Mama, can I honk you nose?

When he isn't honking my nose, he's rocking back and forth on the couch, sliding down the side of my body, grunting, scratching the underside of his nose, tapping my feet with his hands or feet, bouncing, etc. While this is normal three year old behavior, it just never stops. Ever.

Add in the meltdowns that come from being too tired, too hungry, or hearing something that is too loud, and a day can be taxing.

But gosh is he sweet, too. There is little that upsets him more than someone else crying - it borders on panic.

Also, this is me right now.

All of these gymnastics are not for lack of training. Oh guys. Only God knows the effort. Now he's clacking his teeth together and listening to the sound it makes. Also, he wants to look at wolf costumes. And he wants ice cream. He is sweetly and creatively expressing his wants while tapping me on the chin. 

Jesse and I were discussing Josiah's stress level yesterday. I was listening to a child development expert talk about children who come from difficult places - and sensory kids fall into this category. She talked about how she gently places her hand on the chest of a child while speaking to them - to create connection, but also to feel their heart, which is often racing. 

It's interesting to place your hand on a toddler's chest and feel their heart race frantically when it shouldn't be. Seeing and feeling their agony creates a brand new set of lenses through which you see their life, and suddenly, everything shifts. Protective instincts override exhaustion (most of the time) and you stretch and adapt. Sometimes that means saying no to things, and sometimes that means needing grace and assistance from others in order to show up.

There's nothing quite as powerful as parents who get this at the same time. I don't know how sensory parents cope when one parent isn't informed or on board. Watching my husband recite the favorite Good Night Moon to a little boy wrapped in his favorite blanket who can't stop crying, even though he wants to? It's a powerful picture for a wife and mom.  

So now it's time to move toward the school year and plan some ways to fill Joe's sensory tank while his siblings are at school. He will miss them, and then he will enjoy the routine again. I sit here watching him bang on the wall with an inflatable bat and try to think of good activities for this fragile tornado. Maybe a hamster wheel. :)

Also?

This is me now.

Humble and Kind

I deactivated my Facebook today.

I didn't make any announcements about it beforehand, which led to a couple of confused conversations with friends, but yes. It's down for now.

I wasn't mad at anyone. It wasn't one thread that pushed me over the edge. To be honest, it was just a difficult day, and I realized that Facebook is one more thing that I just don't need right now.

tea party with special guests

Pinky Pie with a bracelet-turned necklace, surrounded by dominoes

Do you ever wonder what they will write about us in twenty years? I foresee more books and studies all about The Social Media Effect. I don't know, y'all. I sometimes wonder if we'd be better off if all of our internet friends and real-life friends didn't overlap. If maybe we talked to our online friends online because there was no other way to connect with them face-to-face. If we talked to our real-life friends in person where we could more attentively notice how we talk to them. I wonder if we know way too much about our real-life friends anymore, and it's becoming harder and harder to like the people in front of our faces because of all of the overshare.

All of these thoughts were rumbling around in my brain when I came across something that reminded me of this country song. 

A few people had asked why I was slipping away from my primary social media site. I wasn't sure - I just knew I needed it. But I think I knew why when I pulled up the song and listened to it again. 

I'm weary of the things that chip away at my kindness. I'm weary of things that compete with true humility. I'm through listening to people try to scare me out of my humanity and ability to be humble and kind. 

Hold the door, say please, say thank you
Don't steal, don't cheat, and don't lie
I know you got mountains to climb but
Always stay humble and kind

I wonder if fear is like fire. We know that fire needs oxygen and fire needs something to consume. I wonder if it is consuming our humility and kindness. I wonder if the constant bombard of all of the worst things happening in the world is feeding it. I think there is immediate, fight-or-flight fear and I think there is fear that slowly changes you over time, and this is the latter.

This season is ugly, isn't it? Are there any of us who aren't worried about really big things - from the future of our country to the safety of our children? I am. I'm worried. But I feel like all of us worried people maybe need to stop getting together so often just to worry about things - and I think that's where social media is hurting us. 

Mommy & AJ

I need it to stop for a minute. I need to not see fear-mongering posts with hundreds of "likes" and political posts with dozens or hundreds of comments between only two or three people. 

We are all scared and we're acting like it. But you know what? I'm saying no. I'm not letting fear change me if I can help it. I can't fix the entire world, but I can shut off every voice that tries to intimidate or scare me and choose to focus on being humble and kind.

brothers enjoying a milder summer evening - decorating the car with sidewalk chalk

I know the photos from our humble life my seem oddly scattered through this disjointed post, but they're not. These moments were happening while my brain formulated this post. 

This isn't my appeal to you to abandon Facebook - I'm sure I'll be back. But whatever is weighing you down, scaring you, slowly changing you and not in a good way - maybe you can somehow turn that off and embrace the simpler aspects of the community around you. We can't fix the world by painting it in broad strokes, but we can make a mighty change if we're willing to embrace kindness and humility. 

Feel free to say hello here in the comments! I'd love to know that you stopped by. <3

Oddly Specific Moms - AKA All of Us

I am up too late.

I'm often up too late. I don't fall asleep easily, but I love to sleep. Sleep. Coffee. Chocolate. Is that basic? Well, I do like Starbucks.

Anyway.

I'm up late because 1. I'm not sleepy enough to sleep, and 2. I just finished prepping for Sunday a little while ago. And I decided, I want to talk about this. I'm a mom, and there are basically forty bazillion articles floating about the wide web targeted at me. Probably a good chunk of them would remind me to go to bed early and wake up early so that I'm ahead of the game, and ready before my kids open their eyes. That is such a good idea. It is. I'm not mean-girling here, that is really just solid stuff.

Here's the thing. That's one piece of advice that doesn't actually work so well for me. I don't fall asleep easily, no matter how tired I am - it's something I have struggled with for my entire life. I've tried a variety of over the counter solutions to help, and I do have one that's fairly reliable, but I don't want to take it every night in order to do what the mom blogs say. So, I reserve it for when I feel I need it.

Is there a point to this oddly detailed dissertation on your sleeping habits, Candi? Why, yes there is. I am so glad you asked.

I guess I wish moms who are just a little newer at this whole thing than I could have someone tell them that sometimes really good advice is going to fail. It can be solid guidance that is absolutely essential for your BFF, and it might fail miserably for you.

It's acutely cliche to repeat this - but there is no one like you. You are also oddly specific. You have weirdities (it's a word because I say it is, stand down spellcheck) that I cannot know or "get" or account for. And while life cannot accommodate all of our odd specificity and personal nuance, you will be a better person if you take the time to know yourself well.

I'm up late because I soaked in a long bath - a favorite indulgence of mine. I put off the dishes to do it. But I knew that if I left the dishes in the sink, I would feel stress as soon as I saw them tomorrow. Tomorrow (now today) is Sunday, and church starts at 9am. I don't like 9am. I don't like dressed and present at 9am, I should say. But I love going to church, and I love Sunday, and I need to not wake up at ugly-o-clock and feel stress when I'm already probably angryish at my husband for waking me up to begin with. Yes, you can feel sorry for him. Yes, I can set my own alarm. No, I'm not going to do it.

I know that staying up to have a clean kitchen tomorrow is, for me, much more valuable than going to bed early. I know that I can probably take a nap tomorrow (thank God we've reached that phase of life). I tried the "embracing the mess" route, and it was a short route and I hated it. That's not for me, although I would gladly hire someone else to do the chores if life allowed for that at this juncture.

I know myself, now, well enough to know that I can palpably feel my stress level drop when certain areas of the house are tidy. I've also learned that sometimes I need to just close the kids' bedroom doors and not worry about that at the moment.

Having been a mom for almost nine years, I've learned some of my own stress triggers, and I'm still learning. It took me way too long to realize that life doesn't need to look like a commercial, but I do need to be healthy.

If I could give you an assignment right now - from a still-young mom who is easing up on 9 years at this, it would be to listen to your involuntary stress responses right now, and think about what you can do to address them. When you feel that little ping of stress or you feel that weight creep up in your chest, what caused it? These triggers are some of our personal, specific nuances, and knowing them is absolutely invaluable. Here are a few of mine:

I don't watch crime shows anymore if they are too detailed or involve children - they get in my head. It affects me. It's a trigger.

I don't leave my bed un-made. I make it quickly and imperfectly because I know that looking at a messy bed makes me feel messy. It's a trigger. I avoid it.

I have learned that if my home smells good, I am significantly more relaxed - so I own an essential oil diffuser and several wax warmers. They are worth it. 

I don't bathe my kids every single night, unless they really need it. I have a life.

I don't sort my laundry into colors anymore. So far, I haven't ruined anything. But...

I don't leave unfolded laundry lying anywhere except a small basket reserved for unfolded things or folded towels. Piles of laundry are, you guessed it, a trigger.

These are some of my specific nuances. These are, by no means, an attempt to tell anyone the right way to do things. These are a few ways that I get by as a mom and as a human being and manage life and stay sane. Some of them mean more work for me, and some mean letting things go.

And as I said before, you too are oddly specific. It is worth your time to learn what affects you the very most, and creatively address those things. It may mean giving up an area in which you feel you have to conform to an ideal Mom Persona you've manufactured in your mind.

There are competing voices all over the internet - some telling you how to accomplish life more effectively, and some pushing you to loosen up and let go. There is so much value in both of those things, but it's an impossible mission unless you start by knowing yourself and your family and what you actually, truly need.

Well, y'all, I am finally going to bed - signing off to the hum of the dishwasher, and I hope to wake up to the smell of roast slow-cooking to perfection in the crock pot. Happy, Happy Sunday.

Radical Listening

My heart is heavy. Talking feels hopeless. Looking around at the dialogue flying back and forth, I want to hunker down and wrap my arms over my head. I want to tuck my family into the foxhole with me and create a safe haven, insulated from the noise and flying debris. That’s what my brain is telling me. It’s time to hide. Run. Don’t say anything, just flee.

But in my heart, I think I know what actually needs to happen. I think part of that instinct is correct. I don’t think there’s all that much to say (ironic that I’m writing a blog, then, right? Well, aren’t you a smarty-pants and I probably like you for it).

I think it’s time for some radical listening. I know everyone is screaming for you and I to take a stand, but I think we’re failing on a much simpler level.

See, the people we think we’re standing up to? They aren’t hearing us. Picture the entity you are most frustrated with. Go ahead. Is it a politician? A movement? An organization?

Let me ask you – when is the last time they responded to your Facebook rants? When is the last time that they nodded and listened, looking thoughtful while you shared your frustrations? Maybe you’re 100% correct. Maybe you have all of your facts straight. Maybe you are angsty and itching to do something.

I hear you.

May I make a timid observation?

Are we actually shouting at the wrong people?

Who is hearing us every time we speak?

It’s the people in our own circle, friends. Sometimes we feel free to post whatever makes us grunt in agreement because we operate as if only the people who agree with us can hear our words. It’s much like the way we interact with our siblings in the comfort of our parents’ home. We make jokes we absolutely would not when in other company. We may even openly laugh at someone, because everyone in the room knows we don’t “mean” it – we’re just pointing out humor that is obvious to a group of people with such similar backgrounds. Those inside jokes are funny, and mostly harmless because they are based on the fact that everyone in the room a) understands no malice is intended and b) will never repeat those conversations outside of the safety of those home-walls.

Home is the place where you get to be, frankly, kind of insensitive. Or even a lot insensitive at times? I won’t ask and you don’t have to tell.

But that’s not the whole of us. We actually do care what other people think and how they perceive us, and we care if we hurt them.

I am suggesting that maybe we allow ourselves to slip into a place of too much comfort when we blast our views on social media. We may believe we have all of the facts, but we absolutely do not have all of the perspectives.

I guess I’m wondering what would happen if we called a moratorium on taking to social media when we are upset. What if, when upsetting things happened, we refused to be used? We refused to allow anyone to harness our fear as energy for his or her own political or social agenda.

What if we got willing to be vulnerable with others and ask questions that make us feel uncomfortable? Instead of mega-phoning our opinions because we can, we intentionally sought out another perspective to check ourselves.

I remember a time when my ego was so large that I felt victory when I managed to shut someone up. These days when a conversation moves from deep and serious to placating and polite, I feel my heart sink. When someone stops speaking honestly to me, it likely indicates that I don’t seem safe and open to them anymore.  That feels like failure to me.

I don’t want to summarize the problems of society with silly memes that oversimplify complex issues. The whole of society is not within my purview. So I’m not going to rail as if the whole world can hear.

I’m going to spend my time on the people who actually hear me talk, see what I share, and take part in my life. And I’m going to start by listening. It’s your turn to talk, friend.