Life lessons from my 30s

I have had a couple of days to come down off my birthday project high. It has given me some time to reflect on two eventful days that nearly collide together each year, my birthday and the new year. It is all a little more monumental this year as I turned 40. Naturally with that comes surveying the landscape of my 30s. 
In a nutshell, my thirties were a time of great upheaval, turmoil and yet, growth. The birth of my two youngest children, the building of our house, moving twice, the illness and subsequent death of my sister, the breakdown of several familial relationships, changes in my own friendship circle, examining and discovering what really matters in my life, my own health issues including major back surgery, from weight gain to weight loss, becoming a stay at home mom, to starting a new business, to homeschooling my kids, learning new skills and exploring new hobbies, to the constant challenges, successes and failures of parenting. Actually, that is a lot for 10 years when I write it out. Wonder what I forgot?
In retrospect, here are my top life lessons from my 30s - in absolutely no order and vastly simplified.  Can't wait to read these when I turn 50 and laugh.
1. If it doesn't feel right, don't keep trying to make it work. Walk away, change it up...something. Just don't keep trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.  The only exception to this being marriage.  Marriage is not a commitment based on how you "feel."

2. Food. Only necessary to survive, doesn't have to be enjoyed. Although one tiny piece of chocolate a day can stop any binging or over indulgences in a basic healthy eating plan.

3. Keep your mouth shut. Yeah. Still working on that one. With the exception of spreading the gospel, offering a word of emotional encouragement, or asking forgiveness, no word is ever actually necessary.

4. Friends will come and go. It is alright if you don't stay close to everyone you have ever been close to. Life circumstances, daily routines, and your personal growth can lead to your circles changing. It is natural, normal and not a reflection of your self-worth. Ask for forgiveness over any grievances and move on.

5. Avoid political conversations. Just avoid them. Same can go for "religious" conversations.  I could really care less about religion these days, but will never refrain from a discussion about Jesus if asked.

6. Trusting God as the sovereign God will get you through anything in this life with joy and peace that surpasses all understanding. We waste so much time on the what-ifs of life.  Knowing a God is ahead of me eliminates worry, anxiety and panic.  A hard lesson to learn, but wow, life is so much easier.

7. A consistent, team-approach is the key to parenting.  Even with the best intentions, you will fail, dislike your kids, and question everything you have ever done.

8.  Every once in a while try something you have convinced yourself you really don't have an interest in doing.  You might find you like it and are actually good at it!

9.  Believing in #6 means that you do not have to worry about giving your kids every possible opportunity to try out every activity, hobby, and academic endeavor in the world in hopes that they find success and happiness in this life.  It will not damage them to be at home in the afternoon after school.  Still a work in progress on this life lesson.

10. Prayerfully decide on what you commit to do, knowing that saying no is always ok.  If you commit to something, you are committed.  Give it 100% regardless of whether you are tired, something better comes along, or you just don't feel like it.  The phrase "good intentions" is always followed by some comment of unmet expectations.   

11.  Know when to ask for help before you get to the point where you can't. Be your own advocate in matters of your mental and physical health.

Finally,

12. From Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
¹ There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Everything is temporary, especially life on this earth. Therefore, ALWAYS be the first to ask for forgiveness and ALWAYS be thankful for your blessings.
I could rally a few more funnier ones like always check the pockets, pocketbooks, hands and mouths of your wildest child before leaving the house and don't assume that a yes or no question gives the full story.  Oh, how about there is rarely a completely innocent bystander in a childhood fray.  I'll just leave those for the "Things I Never Expected to Learn as a Parent" list.

The Birthday Project

My birth date, December 30th, has long been riddled with problems my entire life.  If you have a birthday between Christmas and New Year's then you know what I am saying.  Expectations are always set for a great day, but they never seem to materialize.  People forget, gifts are combined with Christmas, no one is in town, the plans of New Year's Eve the next night supersede any focus on celebrating with me.  I have even been given guilt trips because of how terribly timed my birthday is...like I had any control over that.  I am understanding, but it still stinks.  Or rather, it always used to stink until this year. 

About a month ago, I discovered "The Birthday Project."  Immediately, I knew this was how to transform the negativity often associated with my birthday into something completely different.  Instead of focusing on me on my birthday, I was going to focus on others.  Instead of receiving gifts, I was going to give gifts.  Some of the ideas were small, some of the ideas were larger, some cost money and some only took my time.  Some of them touched people in my immediate circle, but more went to those I did not know at all. It turned out to be the BEST. BIRTHDAY. EVER.

Here is what I did, in the order in which it happened:

1.  At the gas station, I bought the drinks for the man behind me in line.  He just stared at me like I was a lunatic.  I loved it!
2. Stopped by my Mom's house and gave her lots of hugs and told her how much I love her and cherish her.  She is the best mom in the world, people.  I am so blessed!
3. Gave a dog treat for a dog being walked in the neighborhood.  Surprised look and a big thank you.
4. At the bank, put quarters in all of the gumball machines.  Told the teller all about the Birthday Project which inspired her to the same on her next birthday.
5. A person in the parking lot of the bank had a dog in her car, and I offered a dog treat.  She gave me a big smile, a thank you and a SURE!
6.  At Costco, I let the person behind me get in front of me.  Who doesn't appreciate that!  They did!  Thanked me multiple times as the lines were really, really long!
7.  I gave some money to a homeless woman at the light.
8. I taped 6 bags of popcorn to the RedBox movie box with a note that said, "Free Popcorn for your movie.  Take one and enjoy this random act of kindness"
9. Gave out bottles of water and handwarmers to other homeless people collecting money around the Wendover/I-40 area. Amazed at the appreciation and thanks.
10. Gave a new friend a small bouquet of flowers.  What a way to brighten a day!
11. Gave an old friend a small bouquet of flowers.  Got the best, longest hug!
12.  Stood in the lobby of Target and with permission, gave out single dollar bills to kids coming in so that they could pick out some little treat from the Dollar Section.  Parents thought it was great, no one told me "no," and the kids' grins were priceless.  Got lots of "Happy Birthdays," too!
13.  Distributed 37 handwarmers to men outside of the Open Door Shelter, with the remaining given inside to be distributed.
14. Handed out 22 bottles of water at the Main Bus Terminal in town.  Oh my, the elderly African-American ladies were unbelievably sweet! They give the best hugs! Everyone wished me a happy birthday, too!
15.  Stopped to check on a driver whose car was in distress.
16.  Dropped by the Salvation Army and delivered 36 various chocolate candy bars.  I explained what I was there to do and this was the response, "Wait.  Let me get this straight.  It is your birthday and you are giving US chocolate?  YOU ROCK! What an awesome idea!"  The kids went nuts, by the way.
17.  A lady walking with 3 kids under the age of  8 was walking towards the Salvation Army and I gave her a bouquet of flowers. Oh, the look on her face!  Was it the most practical thing I could have done for her? Probably not. She said, "Who are these for?"  I said, "You!  Everyone deserves something beautiful."  She started crying.  Oh my!
18. Let several cars into a long line of traffic due to road construction.
19. Paid for a man's lunch in the drive thru at McDonald's.
20.  On our last stop, we surprised my 85-year old grandmother.  We gave her 25 yellow roses.  As predicted, she cried.  She always cries over anything slightly emotional, so this was a Niagara Falls moment.

Twenty collective acts that translated to touching over 130 people.  Were these earth-shattering acts? Absolutely not.  Did it brighten someone's day unexpectedly?  I am positive it did so for one person - me!  Will I do it on my birthday next year?  No.  That is because I don't plan on waiting so long to do it again.  I plan on making a conscious effort to do something every single day moving forward, not just on my birthday.  Let the planning begin!

This is not a post about how great Kelsey Dumoulin is because she did this on her birthday.  This project is not about me.  I certainly don't own the creative rights to it. It is about looking outward on day that is usually very self-focused and at times greedy.  This is a post to inspire you to consider The Birthday Project on your special day.  What if everyone did it?!?

Why I Am Leaving Facebook

Hi, my name is Kelsey and I am addicted to facebook.

My love affair with facebook began in June 2008. I even documented it with a post on this blog. Little did I know what started as a little whim would evolve into being a stronghold in my life.

Oh, it was so incredibly fun in the beginning. Every time I logged on there would be a new connection. I loved seeing updated pictures of people I hadn't seen in years, hearing what life had been for them, laughing at old times. I squealed in delight when I reconnected with my debate camp roommate from the summer of '86. I walked down memory lane with my girls from year abroad, even reconnecting with every member of my host family during that year. I found family members I hadn't seen in years, all the while sinking deeper and more passionately enamored by the trappings of facebook.

A high school reunion this past fall egged on the relationship. It fed the "need" to check facebook on levels that way surpassed more than healthy. The committee planned the reunion largely on facebook ensuring that I would be held captive for the planning period of 6 months prior to the event.

Little jabs by my real-world significant other (Jay), made me stop and think about my indiscretion, but it was easy to explain away the time spent as productive, useful, my only means of connection with "some of these friends." Meanwhile, I was checking my home page all too frequently - multiple times a day. I had way too much information in my brain, drivel that was dribbling to be exact, about mere acquaintances. Some "friends" I have never actually had a verbal, out loud conversation with. I looked at pictures of people I didn't even know!

Things started to really change when that little lovely voice of conviction started creeping in. It wasn't me, my husband or my friends telling me how this has taking over, it was Him. Those nudges you just can't explain away. You have to deal with them head on.

To cap it off, I started a new bible study, "No Other Gods" by Kelly Minter. Should have known by the title that this would be a study that made me examine the motives of my heart. One compelling statement in the early part of this study is, "I'm totally afraid we are routinely putting ourselves in front of things that compromise the good the Lord wants to accomplish in us."

You can begin to see cracks in my relationship with it here in January of this year. I was thinking about breaking up with Facebook, but wasn't quite ready to let it go. You know, what if I lost contact with some of my friends again? Part of my social world would disappear. I couldn't think about the horrors of horrors...my B.F. life (before Facebook) and returning to it. I wasn't willing to live that out, yet.

Meanwhile, the bible study continued. I set out to discover what I was, without much thought, putting ahead of what I should be. What had become an idol in my life? It was pretty easy to discover one. Facebook. Sure, there are several others sitting on the list, but Facebook is the easiest one to fix.

The smack in the face, however, came when it was revealed to me what the "things" on my list had in common. Identity. It was a little wounding to discover what I feared most was to be forgotten, to be looked over, to no longer have affirmation to my being - like having 19 comment posts to my status update. Now, you don't have to tell me how completely pathetic that is. My identity in Christ does not pale in comparison to my identity on Facebook, but in time, I had allowed that to happen.

While I am at it, let me just lay it all on the line. When you fill your brain up with information about other people, information that you would normally not be privy too, it can bring out some pretty nasty internal results...coveting, self-pity, comparisons, judgements, even anger. In fact, Tom Keller, pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church in NYC says, "Idolatry is attached to everything, All of our bitterness, all our impurity, all our malice, all of our problems, everything that troubles us is a result of idolatry." I had allowed Facebook to become an idol - of my time, of my emotions, of my identity.

Now, I am not here to stir up a debate about the merits of Facebook. Nor do I want to hear all the reasons why someone has justified their relationship with it. I am writing only about myself and my complete lack of self-control. In no way am I claiming that Facebook is a pox against all society and rallying for its complete destruction.

You know, I actually have to giggle at a remark someone made to me yesterday. I stated I was writing this post and they said, "It sounds like you are writing your obituary." Actually, it is. A death to the sinful, self-focused self that I am, that quickly foresakes God for a few comments and accolades on a website. However, there is no sadness with this announcement, only joy. In that death is a birth of more of Him within me. Oh what joy and peace knowing my heart now has more room for God. My God - a guilt-less, convicting-less, loving addiction.

This prayer from A.W. Tozer completely sums up this battle and victory (from Facebook, light-hearted and trivial, to the more heart-wrenching idols of self-worth and control):

"Father, I want to know You, but my cowardly heart fears to give up its toys. I cannot part with them without inward bleeding and I do not try to hide from You the terror of the parting. I come trembling, but I do come. Please root from my heart all those things which I have cherished so long and which have become a very part of my living self, so that You may enter and dwell there without a rival. Then You shall make the place at Your feet glorious. Then shall my heart have no need of the sun to shine in it, for You alone will be the light of it, and there shall be no night there."

Specks

After yesterday's post, I realized that either 1) it was maybe too serious 2) it didn't make sense or 3) offended too many. Regardless, I am still going to write about it. Probably several entries, in fact. In the meantime, however, I will break up the arduous and formidable topic with this little tale from my life.

A sign of my body succumbing to illness is when my eyes become tired and sore. Not just achy but the eyeballs themselves throb and pound. The only relief is a very hot washcloth on my eyes, liberal amounts of water, and massive amounts of sleep. Over the past couple of years, I noticed that my eyes were more sore than they weren't.

Beginning in September, this little symptom started snowballing. I felt it every day, particularly at night. I could not keep my eyes open. Just painful. I just knew a terrible combination of illnesses were waiting for me the very next morning - a boiling pot of pneumonia, flu, bronchitis, topped of by the worst sinus infection of all time. Headaches began their decent by mid morning each day and I decided I could wait not longer. To the doctor I went.

Despite a series of doctor appointments, a round of antibiotics and nasal decongestant, nothing changed. To make matters worse, another condition developed, too - jaw clenching and some teeth grinding. My doctor suspicions began to grow and he decided to order an MRI to see exactly what was going on with all of these symptoms. It showed nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.

The holidays came and went. I began to tire more easily resulting in my bedtime rolling in around 8. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. I decided I needed lots of vitamins, exercise and water. Unfortunately, this didn't change my fatigue, instead it gave me gas and muscle soreness.

Last week, while I was cleaning out my nightstand, I contemplated calling the doctor...again. But, what was he going to do? Blood work? I was in a bit of a quandary. I was organizing this drawer when I spied something shoved way in the back. I had not seen this in several years. I opened it up. Low and behold, after using it, my eye aches, my clenching, my headaches have all gone away. It has been miraculous!

What did I find, you ask? Why, the glasses that were prescribed to me about 4 years ago that haven't been on my face in about 2 years!

I do have a couple pairs of reading glasses that get tossed around in my pocketbook. I bring them out whenever the print is too small for me to read. Usually, though, I don't take the time to get them out, opting to deepen my frown lines by squinting my way through it. For the last two years, I have been a more consistent blogger and computer user which, without a doubt, has caused the eye irritation and headaches. I promptly made an appointment with my optometrist to have an exam and update my prescription. In the meantime, I will be sporting my old specks all the time. Sometimes we just can't see the obvious.

A Birthday Tradition

We have had a birthday tradition in our family for as long as I have been alive. At least I can say that I don't recall it ever NOT being a part of our family. I am splitting hairs.

Anyway, every year, my grandmother calls each and every family members' names to the Birthday Contest on a local radio station, WMFR. The morning show, hosted by Max Meeks, airs every Monday - Friday from 5:30 - 9 am. When our birthdays fell over the weekend, my grandmother would call it in on the Friday before or the Monday after. I could write a blog post just about my grandmother's dedication to this losing endeavor, but will save that for another time.

The contest consists of a number is chosen "at random" from what sounds like a bunch of paper in half of a gift box from a local department store. The number is then "matched up" to the corresponding name on the list of people whose names have been called into the show. The winner receives a slew of gift cards to local merchants, including a cake from the Sweet Shoppe Bakery, a car wash from Twin Oaks and bar-b-que from Kepley's. It is nothing life changing, but certainly nothing to scoff at as a native High Pointian.

For 37 years, with the exception of the year I lived abroad, my name has been called into this morning show. And every year, I lose. I have never won this contest. Never. Ever.

I gave up hope in my early 20s. Year after year of disappointment turned my heart against this local station and its dj, Max Meeks. When I was younger I would get up early before school in order to hear my name called on the radio. Year after year, my number wouldn't be called. Year after year, the disappointment turned into bitterness. I was convinced the contest was rigged. I mean, really?Who loses a contest 37 years in a row?!?!?

To add to the rejection, my grandmother believes, erroneously, that somehow in this random drawing of numbers that you can "come close" to winning. For example, if #15 was drawn, and I was #14, my grandmother would exclaim, "Oh, you were only one number off. So close!" If only I had just put forth a little effort in being #15, you know, I might have made it!

We enter the year 2009. The only ones who have not won the birthday contest in our family are me and my father. Oh, and the irony of it all, my grandmother!!! So, in October, I get a call from my dad, early in the morning to inform me, no, make that goad, taunt and tease me, that HE won the birthday contest. To add to this insult, a month later, I was given the most disappointing of all news. Max Meeks, after 50 years of radio hosting is retiring! The end of the birthday contest is looming ahead.

My birthday: December 30th. His retirement date: January 1. It has all come down to this. My last chance, my last opportunity to put forth some addition effort to "be" that winning number and receive the coveted prizes. I hear they even have some facial laser treatment gift certificate now, which I could really, really use approaching 38.. Can I have hope? Can I dream?

Details to come tomorrow morning ...

My Sunday Reflection

Crossroads are a natural part of life's journey. Fairly predictable at the end of education endeavors, decision on marriage and bearing children. But, I think the ones that are the most difficult involve less on the factual statuses of life and more on matters of the heart.

I have spent two years at a crossroad. Written all throughout this blog are posts littered with depression, questioning, with a sprinkling of some epiphanies, yet no action has really been taken. It is much easier for me to write about being at the crossroads and what I think I should do than actually stepping forth, making a move, getting off of the "x marks the spot" and journeying on.

Last night I found myself at the foot of my beautiful Sadie's bed while she slept. My purpose in being there was to pray for her, to petition to God for wisdom and understanding into a beautiful mind that has become an enigma to me.


You see, this school year has brought to the surface the struggles that each individual member of my family has, but in no one more obvious that Sadie. I noticed a decline in her behavior over the summer. Little acts of disobedience. Little manipulations. Little lies. Little aggravations. I was not the proactive mother. Our summer schedule left little time to enforce discipline measures. Jay traveled much of the time. Honestly, I was just tired of being a mom. Tired of being, actually.


As the school year has progressed, so has Sadie's transgressions. A little bit of talking in class has become a lot of talking in class which has become talking while the teacher is instructing which has become impulsive loud acts, which has become hitting another child with a book, chasing around a hair in the air while class is being conducted...etc., etc., etc. This only parallels her behavior at home causing me to be consumed with anger and for me to attempt warp drive in the control department. If I just clamp down hard enough, rant and yell enough, I can squash her into this box that I think she should fit in. I searched the internet - ADHD, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Boredom, Highly Intellectual, Differentiation in the Classroom - looking for answers, solutions, problem-solving on my own. Do you hear the problems already?

The height of these acts occurred this week, resulting in an explosion or rather a possible implosion of our family. As typical with the workings of God, desperate times draw you close to Him and you reach a new heightened sense of awareness of Him and His love. Monday was just one of those days...

So, there I was, sitting beside my sleeping angel desperate to hear from Him. As I prayed for my child's heart, the light began to shine into my own heart. I wasn't just praying fervently for her, I was praying desperately, soul-searchingly for me. I needed my God. The tears became sobs. I was broken, yet again.

How could I have gotten to this place? Admittedly, by my own two feet. Walking away from Him. On my own.

Easily, I cried out to God to draw us both close to Him. He comforted my heart. He soothed my soul. The next day, God continued speaking to my heart in my bible study. This is what I learned:

1) God is not asking me to problem solve this situation. He asks that I just love her, turn her to Him, apply necessary discipline. Ultimately, I must have faith that He who does a good work, will be faithful to complete it. I should never be desperate or exacerbated.

2) I must shore myself up with the word. My life's history clearly shows how being the word is hugely impacting to me in every single part of my day. The highest of highs, the joy of of joys comes from being with my Savior. My entire countenance changes, a supernatural change that I can not create myself. I am able to transcend the struggles of this world to live with a peace that truly passes all understanding.

3) I must role model self-control which can not come from me, but from the Holy Spirit. If I am flying off the handle, having my little adult fits, rages, etc., how in the world can I expect Sadie not to?

4) I must not let how this world defines a "good" child be my guide for Sadie, nor can I let the rolling eyes and judgements of other parents, teachers, etc. to shame me, doubt my parenting, or define success for me. This is between me, Sadie and God.

I would like to say that all of this changed the remaining days of the week, like a miracle was performed and Sadie showed marked improvement. No. That was not the case. However, there was a miracle in my ability to handle it, to administer appropriate punishment, to turn her heart to the Lord. We have had some very sweet prayers and discussions as well as some very tough discipline measures. For example, her room contains only with her bed and clothing.

Therefore, I wait. I pray and I wait expectantly. It is nice to have the crossroads to my back. You know, I might be walking a very long time, but I have faith that somewhere along that path, the trees will bear much fruit.

The New School Year

Well, it is done. The last one is out of the nest and into "big" school. The first day was fraught with tears and sadness as I adjusted to the end of the "mother of preschoolers" season of life. It is still difficult to fathom that I have an entire day (at least until 2:30) to myself. But, I find it isn't taking long to settle quite nicely into this new life of solitude!

That first morning, however, as I finished fixing Lily's hair, she jumped up, turned around and proudly inquired, "Mommy, how do I look?" I had quickly control my blubbering and weakly attempted enthusiasm with my, "Great!" response. She ran into our bedroom saying with so much exuberance I thought she might just burst, "Daddy, look at me!" There she stood with her plaid, school-girl jumper and little light-yellow, peter pan collared shirt underneath, bobby socks and brown Mary Jane shoes. Her hair, with almost white high-lights from the summer sun was pulled up, away from her face with a ribbon that matched her jumper. Her glasses clean for a change, nearly sparkling from the twinkle in her eyes. Her smile as large as I have ever seen it. My baby...looked so very grown-up.


Seeing all three children dressed in their uniforms with those excited, but slightly nervous smiles on their faces brought such a mixed bag of emotions for me Tuesday morning. I was proud, excited, nervous, slightly stressed, and filled with some snippets of joy, probably the same as what they were experiencing. At this exact moment in time as I type this, I can say what a blessing raising my children has been.


We spent the week before school started at the beach with two other families. There were a total of 8 children ranging in age from 2 to 11. Chaotic at times, yet full of hilarity and relaxation. Observing all the children's behavior and the typical behavior that comes with their varying ages, I realized not only how much my children have grown and adjusted, but just how far I have come in this child rearing journey. I also caught some glimpses of what life can be like as my children grow and mature and this brought some positive anticipation.



Here are some highlights from the first week of school:


Lily:
She was extremely excited on her first day. After several weeks of asking, "How many more days until school?" she was finally able to get on her uniform, pick up her new pink, monogrammed messenger bag and Tinkerbell lunchbox and start kindergarten. Jay and I walked each of the kids to their classrooms, with Lily being last. She went right into the class and found her seat. As I bent down to give her a kiss she told me, "Ok, you can go now." Little Miss Independent! When I picked her up, I learned that she had had a good day, but was not quiet at lunch so did not get a piece of candy. However, they did get doughnuts for a snack that afternoon and for the most part, she did well. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.


The next day, Lily became a bit cantankerous when I insisted on walking her in again instead of dropping her off at the sidewalk. At the same time, however, she requested to stay with me instead of going to school. So, a mixed bag of emotions. She has become quite the planner, declaring her desire to alternate which shoes she wears each day, alternating how she wants her hair done and alternating what uniform combinations she wears. She has never verbalized such plans before school started.


On her third day, she received a green smiley face on her thumb, but did not get candy because she 1) hoarded all the blocks put at her table because she wanted to build something big and became a bit difficult when she had to share 2) Mixed play-do colors together (oh, the horror) and 3) Had a bit of a hard time settling down during their 15 minutes of rest. When I "confronted" her with her transgressions in the car, she broke down crying and asked me, "Are you disappointed with me? Mommy, I am so sorry." It was quite pitiful. But, I assured her that I was not disappointed, all was forgiven and that tomorrow would be a new day when she could try just a bit harder. She is definitely fluctuating between wanting to be at school, being completely exhausted, wanting to stay home with me, wanting my help and wanting to do it all herself. It is a bit tiring for me!


Sadie:

This year brings a new teacher for Sadie after having the same teacher for both kindergarten and first. The adjustment is a bit difficult for her. In the car ride to school this morning, she indicated that having a new teacher was hard and that she wishes she was still with Mrs. Newell. On the other hand, she was thrilled that her most of her closest friends are in her class. 2nd grade brings a lot of change at our school - much more responsibility and more work. She is struggling with controlling her talking. Wonder where she gets that from? Yesterday, she changed her light to yellow after being warned two times. I support the teacher in her efforts to clamp down this early in the year. Sadie, in her usual fashion, tried to blame the problem on others who were talking to her, and yet, again, I turned her right back to one responsible for choosing to open Sadie's mouth. At this point, I don't have a clear sense of how this year will be for Sadie.



Ethan:

Thrilled. Just over the moon. He is in love with his teacher this year. It is a male teacher and he knows just how to reach those boys. He knows exactly what to say to them to touch their hearts. I truly believe this will be Ethan's year to blossom. The teacher actually got on the playground and played kickball with them, talked to Ethan about his favorite band, Skillet, and told the kids that if they are misbehaving, he will talk to them individually, but will not embarrass them in front of the class. Three major points for Mr. B in Ethan's eyes! Every day, Ethan has come home with something exciting that has happened, something that has gotten him jazzed up. I just LOVE it!



Outside school the kids will be involved in a few activities. However, I hope the schedule will actually provide forced study time and one-on-one time with each of the kids and their school work while we wait for the others in their respective commitments. Interestingly, Sadie was not interested in doing scouts as in last year or piano. As she stated this summer, "All I want to do is swim." Here is how our schedule plans out this fall:

Monday - Ethan has guitar lessons and then Sadie and Ethan go to swim practice

Tuesday - Ethan has scouts

Wednesday - Ethan has Bel Canto (the school choir), Lily has piano lessons (at the school as well) and then Sadie and Ethan have swim practice.


I tried to squeeze everything in so that we only have two days of running around, enabling us to be home by 5:20 on Monday and Wednesdays. Wednesdays are no-homework days for us (the beauty of going to a Baptist school) so that will be helpful. I think it is a doable schedule. I just wish I could arrange for swimming for Lily on Mondays while the others are at their swim practice.

Now, as for me...Along with my usual household duties, cleaning out and organizing the house as well as working on several (read a mile long list) home projects are my first order of business. I will schedule some focused writing time, sign-up for a Thursday morning bible study and will probably spend at least a couple of mornings in the office helping Jay with some minor details. That sounds like enough for now.

The Numbers Game, part 2

Roller coaster weight. That has been my life. Maybe the numbers don't fluctuate as much as my anxiety over them. I can map out my entire life by numbers on a scale. Every major event, every major day, I can tell you exactly what I weighed. I could probably list to you every comment ever made to me regarding my weight. Well, certainly I could do that with the negative ones.


I thought this was a normal pattern for all women until I spoke honestly with a friend. She said I might have a problem, because no, she really had no idea what she weighed at various points in her life. Therefore, my newly discovered number obsession has been swirling around in my brain lately. What is my fixation on these number? Why have I allowed them to linger and taint the most important memories I have? The battle of the scale.


Sure, I could lie and say it was really a matter of my health. I desired to be "healthy." Nope. I can blame it on society and its ridiculous images of emaciation and perfection. Sure, that played a part. But if I am going to be completely honest, I allowed it to dictate my perception of self. It is how I chose to filter what the world said, what my peers said and most importantly what that blasted scale said. I allowed that bathroom appliance to dictate to me whether I felt good about who was. I allowed a set of numbers to determine whether my memories are positive or negative at any point in time. I allowed the numbers to control me.


I believe that if you bring strongholds into the light, they just don't have the strength they had before. I want to let go of the need to "step up on the scale" every morning. And, so, for exposing myself to the world...here is my life's weight map, and all of its absurd, skewed, mentally warped perceptions:


Age.weight

9.75 Sales lady at the old Tobias clothing store told me that if I didn't watch what I ate, I would have to start shopping in the "pretty plus" department. I was in 5th grade. She should have been fired.

14.110 High school football game. A guy physically picked me up and stated oh, you must be 110 pounds. He was correct, but I was NOT going to admit to what I considered to be a heavy weight. I lied and said, no, and looked shocked.

17.118 High school graduation, beginning of college. Very insecure and described myself as "chunky." Never walked around in a bathing suit, covering myself the minute I stood up from a chair.


19.128 Sophomore year of college. A dorm mate told my friends she was "worried about my health." Went of ridiculous crash diets including the rice diet and the cabbage diet. None were successful. Roommate was bulimic with some serious image issues and I was constantly exposed to her fears and choices.


21.123 College graduation. Heading out to the Netherlands to work. Wishing I had dieted and lost some weight.

22.132 Returned from the Netherlands and although very in shape from all that biking, realized that I was heavier than when I left. A comment made to me after I returned revolved around the "fullness" of my face. It was devastating to me.

26.140 Wedding. Absolutely hated myself for not dieting, not losing weight and being my "best" for my wedding. At the same time decided that enough was enough. I would just have to enjoy this day.


27.146 Weight at first pregnancy appointment with my doctor who informed me that I was already borderline for my weight and I would need to be a little careful about what I ate. I gained 40 pounds during this pregnancy.


29. 198 At birth of second child. Serious weight gain. Painful days prior to delivery as a body that is 5'2" tall is not meant to carry nearly 200 pounds. Yes, 200 pounds.

31.120 Determined to get it off, LA Weightloss brought me back to my high school weight. I ran a 5k. Instead of anxiety and stress about being heavy, I was panicky about gaining the weight back. I discovered that I was pregnant with my third child. I was depressed as I saw all my hard work go down the drain. But, I didn't gain as much during this pregnancy and with Ansley's cancer diagnosis, it was easier to lose the baby weight.


35.113 Ansley's death. Very thin. Many people thought I had "lost too much weight." It was the only thing I could control in the months prior to her death. I just didn't eat often. It was the only thing I felt good about. Over the next three months, I packed on 10 pounds of solid chocolate binging weight.


37.120 Today. Where I am. Always in the back of my mind is the fear that I will begin to gain weight uncontrollably. When the rest of my life is spinning out of control, this is the one area I grasp to control. It seems I am always thinking...I am always happiest when I am just 3 pounds lighter.


There is a lifetime of number addiction here. Mostly it is spurred on by that square, glass digital scale on my bathroom floor. And like an addict, I will need to purge my surroundings of its existence and its temptations. Goodbye daily number check. Goodbye.

Breast, Back and Free

This year, we joined the local Elk's Lodge. Like many of its members, we did it for one reason: the pool. Prior to this summer, our kids were basic swimmers at best. We joined the YWCA this past winter in order for Jay to teach them how to at least tread water and swim across the pool using any means necessary. Clearly, Jay was not an expert swimming instructor, but he was making attempts to teach our children how not to drown. It has been an intense parenting goal for Jay that our children become strong swimmers, with me sort of lagging along behind in support.

It is no surprise then, to know that when Jay heard about a swim team for the kids at the Elk's, he insisted that our children join. It wasn't that I was opposed, it was that I knew it meant more work and shuttling than I had planned on this summer. Ethan wasn't particularly enthralled with the idea either and I knew that meant much encouragement and cajoling on my part. And so, swim practice began. Every. Day. Sometimes twice a day. Swim meets happen once or twice a week. Meets last at least 4 hours, longer if you count in the warm-up time. For the novice swimmer and parent, these meets are a bit overwhelming, chaotic, exciting and tiring. Overall, it is a hefty time commitment for what are to the be the "lazy days" of summer. I was completely not prepared for this entire venture, but probably not in a way you think. I was completely unprepared for how swimming has changed our lives.

For Sadie, my little crazy wild cat, swimming has become "her thing." Never have I seen her so completely delighted with any activity she has tried. And, we have tried quite a few. She always becomes bored before the season ends, particularly at practices. Not with swimming. At the first meet, Sadie realized that someone was chosen to swim the American flag across the pool while the national anthem was played. Setting her sights on this lofty goal, she set to work at the very next practice. She was very determined and after showing her newly, self-instructed "flag holding while swimming" skills to her coach, Laura, she was allowed to bear the flag at the next meet. She was thrilled.

At times (well, a lot of the time) I have difficulty embracing the confidence, the assertiveness and the zaniness that is Sadie. It was during this flag ordeal that I realized that she is who God created her to be, for a purpose. I doubt her purpose is small in nature because that just doesn't seem to fit her very large personality. Therefore, I realize that I need to sit back and just watch it happen instead of worrying over the details and constantly trying to restrain her.

My best guess as to why swimming appeals to Sadie is that it combines a lot of physical activity, competition and socializing - all essential components to her happiness. After the last meet, I asked her, very casually, if she wanted to continue swimming. Her response, "I want to swim, forever and ever and ever." Therefore, I now find myself inquiring about year-round swimming programs.

For Ethan swimming has not come as easily. His first foray on the swim team comes at a time when most kids have been swimming a couple of years. At the 9-10 age level, you are required, for the first time, to swim the lane down and back, not just down once as in the 8 and under. He barely knew how to do free style, let alone any other strokes. Ethan is also my child who is fiercely afraid of how he looks to others, afraid if someone will laugh at him and or of failing. He resisted the entire idea of the swim team and after the first practice declared that it was too tough. He asked if he could quit. I said no. After the first meet, when he came in last place in the last heat, he was nearly in tears and begged me to take him home. I said no. That was a tough one, but I held firm. During his next event, my heart was in my stomach as he battled out of last place. Again, he came to me trying to be brave though tears welled in his eyes. I mustered every single "word of encouragement" and "rising to the challenge" verbiage I could during the ride home. It was a tough night to be a parent. Later that week, he came down with sickness and then went to Weeblo/scout camp leading him to miss a meet and several practices. Once he returned, he asked to just practice with the team and not have to do the meets. I said no, again. I did opt to invest in a couple of private lessons with one of the coaches in hopes of improving his strokes a tad, thus building his confidence for the next meet.

And so, the stage was set for our meet this past Tuesday. I told him all he had to do was improve on his time. Actually, that has been our mantra for this entire season. I ask, "Who are you swimming against?" The answer is "me." Or, "What are you swimming for?" The answer is, "To improve my time." To add to the incentive, I offered up the prize of beef jerky for any improved time. And here is where I must give kudos to his coach, Taylor. He heard of this little prize and gave the challenge to Ethan...shave off 2 seconds of his time and Taylor would get him the beef jerky. The time came. Ethan dove in. He gave it his all while Taylor cheered for him down the entire lane. He touched the wall...and had shaved 8 seconds off his time. He was beaming. I was elated. Several of the coaches, including Taylor, were there to pat him on the back. Did he win the race? No, not by a long shot. But, what I saw in Ethan's eyes and in his heart was worth more than that. He didn't care that he hadn't won the race. He was thrilled knowing he had accomplished more than he thought capable. He had learned a fantastic life lesson about perseverance and commitment. And, as we left the meet, Ethan said to me, "Actually, I can't wait to do it again." Yes, I had tears.

It would seem a bit strange that an activity that is geared toward my children would have an impact on me, personally. However, if you have read my blog for any length of time, you know I have been in a bit of a funk. Actually, a 2-year vastly fluctuating, emotional funk. My pleasure in socializing pretty much vanished after Ansley died. Grief, sorrow and bit too much introspection led me to isolate myself. Unfortunately, a little isolation snowballs into more isolation. Before you know it, you are nearly a hermit. Thrust into the swim crowd on a daily basis has reminded me how enjoyable other people can be. It is amazing, really, that I am sad the season is nearly over.

Not to leave Lily out of the mix...she was able to join the Jr. Elk's team. She has evolved from not wanting to get her head wet to diving into the water and swimming a crude little freestyle for about 15 yards. She loves going to the pool and I can see how this has improved her social skills just in time for kindergarten.

Finally, this post about the swim team would not be complete without mention of the young adults that are employed as the swim coaches. They have restored my faith in this next generation. Sure, I know I am not privy to all the behind the scenes. However, I do see dedication, organization, leadership, instruction, compassion, concern and a genuine desire for these young swimmers to succeed. One example is in Ethan's coach, Taylor, who had me write down his mobile number. Taylor will be out of town during the next swim meet and he asked me to have Ethan call him right before his free-style event. Ethan just beamed upon hearing the request. The head coach, Laura, is just beyond her years in her leadership, organizational skills and enthusiasm. And, the other coaches, Chris and Brooke among others, call my children by name, ask about them, request hugs, dole out compliments and encouragement. I doubt they understand, fully, what positive influences they have been on the Dumoulin clan.

In regards to next summer...well, I'll just quote Ethan, "Actually, I can't wait to do it again."

Forever Young

Continuing with the age of innocence theme...I started thinking about a time in my life when I had no cares, no worries, no stress. Did I ever just take off, not worry about plans, tasks undone and responsibilities?

My memories of such a time in my life have been jolted in the last day or so. My dearest friend Niels has shown up on facebook and along with him are the memories of the best trip I have ever taken. Without him, my first trip to Africa would not have happened. I had no business, no rational reasoning to go there. I was 22, had no job, very little money, no concrete plans for the future, and now that I think about it...no home to even call my own. Yet, I took what little money I had, wrapped up my year of living in the Netherlands, packed a suitcase and headed out to Zimbabwe with him and another friend for a month of ridiculous abandonment, choices that would shock even the wild at heart, and enjoyed life in all its hilarity, love, and adventure.


At the beginning of the trip we stayed with Niels' parents who were living in Harare, Zimbabwe. Then we took off, backpacking our way through South Africa, Botswana, Zambia, returning to Zimbabwe. We began the journey on a train still emblazoned with its Rhodesian logos from the colonial days. There were no concrete plans, no reservations made, no tickets purchased. Therefore, the trip included walking, hitchhiking (yes, hitchhiking in the middle of nowhere), school bus-type transportation, a plane (Air Botswana) and the back of a pick-up truck for 7 hours. We mostly tent camped with a brief reprieve at some friends of Niels' parents. We ran out of local currency, yes, money. We opted to eat only a pack of mints in order to drink a Zambezi, saw elephants from 100 feet, got chased by monkeys, saw the "last Eden on earth," ate impala schnitzel, had some digestive issues, took outdoor showers, went to a few discos, held snakes, drove on the "wrong" side of the road, met a real mercenary, made a missing persons report to the police, saw one of the 7 wonders of the world, visited a country in the midst of enormous change and hope, got lost, laughed, cried (maybe that was just me) and LIVED.

It was during this part of the trip when my eyes were opened to how most of the world lives. It was during this part of the trip that I felt I was truly living, sucking every ounce of emotions and experiences from every day. It was during this trip that I felt the most confidence in my abilities to handle anything that came my way. I am forever indebted to Niels for inviting me to tag along on such a life-altering trip.

My heart sinks when I read about the calamity that has befallen Zimbabwe. A country of such promise in the early 90s, now racked with scandals, political destruction and the AIDS epidemic. I wonder what the slums of South Africa have become since the fall of apartheid, as we saw the hope in the eyes of the people of that country only 6 months after it was abolished. I don't know anyone who has ever been to Africa who wasn't deeply moved by the tension between beauty and despair. It is a continent that quickly creates passion and carves a lasting mark in the hearts of every visitor. A place that exists, defying the odds on so many levels. I know there is a little hole in my heart created by the piece I left in Africa over 14 years ago and made larger by a second trip 6 years ago.

My second trip was much different - a missions trip to Ghana. I loved every minute I was there and I long for more of it. I dream of once again holding the little orphan girl in Ghana in my arms while the harmonic sounds of the orphan choir sing praises. I never think about those places without believing one day I might return on a more lengthy basis. How, where and why, I do not know.

Until then, I will think about how life has propelled me to lose some of that spontaneity and become the uber responsible, somewhat fearful, worried, self-doubting mom and wife. I think it is time to reclaim that independent and adventurous girl from 1994. Today, it is never too late to be...Forever Young.

The Likelihood of Survival

The following statement was from a man whose tandem parachuting partner died from a heart attack during mid-jump. He was able to remain calm because as he said:

"The likelihood of you surviving, you know, decreases absolutely amazingly by factors exponentially if you panic," he said.

Hmmmm. It took me a few years of my life to realize that I have a higher than normal ability to panic. I have no, nada, zero, zilcho useful skills when it comes to emergency situations. Heck, might as well just put normal, every day situations in that category as well. Though I may appear to have it all together, underneath it all, my mind is just churning with the absence of rational thinking. I make the following argument, though I doubt many who know me really well will wonder why I even make the effort. They already know the truth.

Case #1:
Car collision with lake on Willie Bodenheimer Road 1988
The reality is that I was a very inexperienced driver behind the wheel of a 1979 black Ford pick-up truck with no power anything and only an AM radio to keep me company. It was a Goliath of a machine and I had to sit on two pillows in order to maneuver the beast. It was a cold March morning and I had my highly valued term paper on the uni-seat beside me. Willie B. Road was one that I drove on my way to and from school and was not a "paved" road, but a rural road comprised of tar and loose gravel. As I turned onto the road, my time-wasted, yet, coveted paper went flying into the floorboard. Mistake #1 - I reached down into the floor board to retrieve it, thus taking my eyes off the road. As I peered through (not over) the steering wheel I realized that I was off the ride-hand side of the road. I could hear the driver's instructor's voice in my head. "If you run off the side of the road...DO NOT PANIC. Slowly bring it back onto the road." Mistake #2 - The use of the phrase "Don't panic" only increases panic. I did try to bring it back onto the road, but instead of releasing the gas or even better, braking, I pressed the pedal harder in my attempts to "not panic." The truck began to fishtail. And, off to my left I saw it - the pond, complete with geese. I knew at that moment, without a shadow of a doubt, that I was going in it with my truck. So, I just...let...it... happen. The water was about hip deep as I exited the truck. As I made my way (paper in hand, by the way),to the shore, I took one little glance back and saw the pillows floating away. Imagine calling your dad on that one.

Case #2:
Fire in a large convention building in the Netherlands 1994
I was speaking to a group of Dutch girls to recruit them to be au pairs in the U.S. It was an informational meeting and while speaking, a lady came into our room, following by a medium amount of smoke. She calmly said, "There is a fire outside our room, we need to exit the building." On the outside, I remained calm. I didn't say anything. I didn't start screaming or wailing my arms around. We were asked to get our things and follow the fire exit signs. Which I promptly did. Once outside the building, I found that I had a pocketbook, which not my own and...a stapler. Yes, I was the hero that day as I saved the stapler from certain death. Or, did I think could use the stapler to stamp out the fire? Who knows? What I do know is that I did NOT have my complete faculties about me and just needed something in both hands in order to leave that room.

Case #3:
Driving in mountains in Washington State vacation trip 1999
Jay and I took a one year anniversary trip to Seattle to visit friends. While there, we decided to camp one night in some mountain range. Was it Mt. Olympus - I think, but my memory of that is fuzzy. What I do remember, quite clearly is that morning Jay was feeling flu-like and decided to sleep in the backseat during the drive leaving me alone to navigate. I didn't want to miss the opportunity to make this scenic drive and catch a glimpse of Canada (I know, why?) from a towering mountain top. As I drove up the mountain, my heart began to beat faster and faster. Those were really steep drop-offs (even though I was on the inside of the road). There weren't a lot of barriers to prevent one from driving off the side. And I could see myself driving right...off...the...side of the mountain. I started to emit little panicky noises. I checked the speedometer - I had slowed to a snail pace of 10 mph and couldn't muster the strength to increase my speed, despite the enormous amount of traffic behind me. The last curve was a doozy as you couldn't see any road ahead just this curve into nowhere. As I rounded the corner I saw it...the parking lot. I parked, facing another drop-off, and seriously thought the car was continuing to roll even though the emergency brake was on. I exited the car and laid down flat onto the pavement for what seemed like hours until Jay popped his head up and asked me what I was doing. He had missed the entire episode. Needless to say, he drove us down the mountain while I laid down in the back.


Case #4:
Birth of second child 2001
Having been through this already once, you would think that I might have worked out all of the panic possibilities. Alas, I had not. Child #2 was brought into this world by induction. In the delivery room there were two nurses getting me prepped and ready. While I was answering questions to the one nurse (are you allergic to anything, etc.), another nurse was preparing the iv. Now, I have had tons of ivs. Never an issue. But, for some reason this particular morning, I was fixated. I thought she was going to stick me before I had a chance to "prepare." I thought she wouldn't even let me know what she was going to do and just go for the jab. But, for some reason I didn't think to ask the interviewing nurse to pause, so I could make my concerns known. Instead, my body went into a tailspin. I began to get dizzy, my eyesight blurry, my head light. All I could mutter was...I don't feel so good. They took my bp and it was something like 56 over 40! No wonder! My brain was being deprived of oxygen all because I couldn't say, "wait."

Obviously, I do not have a "high likelihood of survival." I rest my case.