Scanners

I have been writing some very personal posts lately. I am not quite prepared to post them to the world. In due time...

In the meantime, I was sent an article by a friend that described a character trait of which someone possessing would be called a "scanner." At first, I wasn't really sure how to interpret the article. I mean, was it to shed light on some deficit on my part? Or was it to aid me in digging deep into my being?

Here are the positive excerpts from the article along with any possible applicable comments:

Scanners love to read and write, to fix and invent things, to design projects and businesses, to cook and sing, and to create the perfect dinner party. (You'll notice I didn't use the word "or," because Scanners don't love to do one thing or the other; they love them all.)
I can see this. I love everything listed above, actually.

A Scanner might be fascinated with learning how to play bridge or bocce, but once she gets good at it, she might never play it again.
I was completely obsessed with Soduku at one point and once I mastered the most difficult puzzles, I quit playing. I can see this also happening with Rock Band.
The same might be said about my volunteer commitments. I taught several bible study classes (been there, done that), coordinated three years' worth of retreats (time to move on), volunteered for tutoring (class graduated). There is just too much out there I want to try, I guess, and it is hard to stay onto one track for the rest of my life.

Scanners don't think what other people are doing is empty. They're always curious to know "what's out there" and love to poke their noses into just about anything.
I love to hear everything about other people's hobbies. Why do they do it, how did they get interested in it, what are their goals. I want to learn what you know.

99 percent of Scanners spend a lot of time scanning the horizon, thinking about their next move.
Maybe. Not too sure on this one. But, I do have a list of things I would like to do in my lifetime. Does that count? I have not completely relinquished the following ideas, even how far out of reality they are (and I KNOW they are): owning a restaurant (going to culinary school), opening up a scrapbook store, writing a novel, being a public speaker (motivator), teaching, being a diplomat, learning to play another instrument, getting involved in politics. Just to name a few...

To Scanners the world is like a big candy store full of fascinating opportunities, and all they want is to reach out and stuff their pockets.
I love how this is written. Just love it. And, this probably sums up my view of life.

Here are the struggles that Scanners face:

I spent years frustrating myself and everyone around me with my constant jumping from one thing to another. What I learned about myself eventually is that I knew deep down what I should be doing all along, but was simply too scared to commit myself to it. The constant stream of alternative ideas was simply an advanced avoidance technique.
Scared to commit. That line bothers me, but only because it is true. I want to get my MFA in Creative Writing, but I don't know if I can pass the GRE or if I can stick out going to college classes which were incredibly tough to attend when I didn't have a family and responsibilities. But why won't I try, at least? Maybe I would with encouragement and support from those closest to me, but that is usually not the case.

I think I've always avoided what I really want to do because I was afraid I'd be mediocre, or fail completely, so I'd keep changing my mind before I produced anything that could be judged.
See above.

Departments of literature, the humanities, even history were seen as irrelevant luxuries. And with that decline in respect came a radical change in the stature of Scanners. No longer described as "well-rounded," "Renaissance people," or "erudite," almost overnight they were seen as irrelevant, silly, irresponsible.
How many times have I made a comment about my well-deserved degree? My "all-job procuring" American Studies, a liberal arts degree that enabled me to dabble in varied courses of study - literature, religion, photography, history, etc. How may times have I answered the question of "what's that?" and feeling like I wasted my 4 years in Chapel Hill? Even during college I constantly questioned if I had made the right choice of colleges, considered leaving for a smaller school, considered taking a year or two off because I just didn't know what I wanted to do. I graduated and moved abroad to work as an au pair (nanny) because I still was undecided and wanted to explore the world.

The problem is, Scanners are starving in the candy store. They believe they're allowed to pursue only one path. But they want them all. If they force themselves to make a choice, they are forever discontented. But usually Scanners don't choose anything at all. And they don't feel good about it.

But at some point in high school or soon after, everyone was expected to make a choice, and that's when Scanners ran into trouble. While some people happily narrowed down to one subject, Scanners simply couldn't.
Well, ok, so I changed my major at Chapel Hill 7 times. International Relations (still dream of being an ambassador), Political Science (possible lawyer), Italian (for future life abroad), Advertising (was in the School of Journalism for a while and dreamed of working in a big firm in Chicago), English (but didn't really like Brit Lit), American Studies (because I had the most credits here and enjoyed the varied courses). I think I am missing one...forgot what it was!

My dear readers, what do you think? Is the term "scanner" a legitimate one? I think that there are actually more scanners than there are those that stick to one thing their entire lives, despite what the author says. And, if the "candy store" theory is correct, how in the world will I ever commit to anything? More importantly, how does this muddle things when are try to understand God's will in your life?

The Maternal Rally Cry

I have been reflecting upon child rearing as of late. It always amazes me that three very different and distinct temperaments came out of the same womb - mine. And, I have long categorized my three as the following: Ethan, the deep thinker and jokester; Sadie, the determined and intelligent wild cat; and Lily, my happy-go-lucky lovey. With these vastly different personalities, attempts have been made at individualizing their upbringing, including expectations and discipline. My failures to do so have been many and well-documented on this blog. So, as I enter what appears to be another cycle of the ear-shattering whining, the brush off of requests, and flat out defiance, I must remember the most important word I have ever heard in parenting: consistency.

For those with older children, do these cycles continue but just appear in a different form as the move into the teen years? I hear they get worse, but then, I also hear that difficult children early on often become compliant, lovely teens and adults. I can hope.

This is the weary road for mothers. The time when you believe every battle fought has been futile, every brawl defeating, confrontations exhausting. And, yet, this what we have been called to do. Therefore, I shout the following from my rooftop to all mothers and maybe as a rally cry for myself:

We will win. We will win because God told us we would. We have His rules to teach and His blessing to do so. One day, we will bask in the fruits of our labor, the promises of obedience, respect, honor and love. Stay the course, woman, push yourself, shore yourself up with His word. Don't let them argue with you, beg you, plead with you or whine you into giving in. And in that final hour of the day, when you are consumed by exhaustion, your brain is mush, and every part of you feels like you are walking in the valley of the shadow of death - they see an open door. They think they have an edge. But I say to you, stand firm and don't budge an inch. Why? Because YOU ARE THE MOM and YOU SAY SO!

We Are Mothers!
We Are Mothers!
We Are Mothers!

And this from the mom who just gave in and let her children get a puppy. Sigh.

Little Lessons

Random lessons I have learned recently that might be of benefit to know:

1. Based on experience, a toothbrush (discarded after use) and bleach are the only ways to get poop cleaned out of whirlpool tub jets.

2. Boys can be way more dramatic than girls.

3. Squirrels drink a lot of water. I could really make this whole list about squirrels, but will refrain.

4. A man, a chainsaw and an ATV can be a scary combination.

5. No matter where I go in my house, my children will find me in less than 90 seconds.

6. You can either live to eat or eat to live. It makes a difference.

7. Red dyed drinks are a pox to humanity. A leaking cup of red drink in a cart full of groceries is a major, major mess to you, your groceries and the poor employee who must follow your trail throughout the store with a mop.

8. Words of encouragement, affirmation and appreciation can never be heard enough.

9. Every child will decide they hate every single food, including their favorite, at some point in their lives so at some point every food has been hated. Don't believe them!

10. Every person in your circle brings something to your life. When they are gone, that something usually goes with them, never forgotten, yet never experienced in that form again.

Puppy Love

Amidst much discussion, cajoling, begging, pleading, and more discussion, we have added a new addition to our house. I caved, really. And so, little Dixie, a beagle/dachshund mix, has found her way into our lives and hearts.

Puppies have to be one of the highlights of God's creation. Is there one person who can look at a puppy and not have a smile, ever so small, on their lips. I just don't think it is humanly possible. Is it in their sweet, innocent eyes? Is it the whimper for nothing but affection that draws us in? Is it their need to only be loved? Is it that wagging tail that flurries toward, declaring it is simply happy to see us? Or, is it how they seem most content just sleeping in our laps? Innocence portrayed in such a small little form.

Her fatty little paws, long floppy ears, little wagging tail that seems to go on and on, her short, stubby little legs that send her flying down the hall, her ability to pounce on a chew toy like a ferocious lion taking down a wildebeest, and her pathetically innocent and wide-open eyes that can look up at me with such sweetness - well, they add up to nothing but puppy love. And, I am smitten for sure.

Notes on a Snowy, Historic Day

Ecstatic one running into the room
Pounding, hurried footsteps
Requesting to not to wake the others
Noise from the others being woken to the news of snow fall
Begging for snow clothes stored in the hall closet
In and out the door
Doorbells ringing
Mud, ice and snow boot prints all over the floor
Cold hands that stung against warm skin
Red glowing cheeks
Piles of wet, dirty hats, scarves, boots and bibs
Requests for hot chocolate at 8:30 am
The acrid smell of vinegar on the floor
Two children splashing in the bath tub
Steaming, creamy tomato soup and cheese toast
Settling in to watch history
Remembering this moment and how it was marked
Tears
The melodious sounds of classical music and children basking in it
Answering a million questions about government, inaugurations, national security
Discussing life in the White House
Announcement of future presidential ambitions by one
A speech
A time of gathering clouds and raging storms
Indicators of crisis, nagging fear
Chose hope over fear, unity over discord
Celebrate the risk-takers, who have carried us to prosperity and freedom
We are ready to lead once more
Our patchwork heritage is our strength
New era of responsibility that we seize gladly
18:10 speech
Snow day returns
Piles of laundry
School projects to complete
One goes down for a rub and a nap
Refereeing the fights, the squabbles
Dinner to prepare
Hope continues

1989

Dear Class of 1989,

We were told we were a very unique class, one of the largest, yet, one of the brightest, ambitious and most importantly closest class to pass through our school in a while. We were brought together as a class, because of where our parents chose to raise us. Fates of geography. Due to the stagnant and consistent nature of our school's rural, farming area, most of us found each other early in our school years. And, we remained together with little change except for hair styles until graduation. So, what happens after a 20 year separation?

With the advent of facebook, I am reconnected with people I last remember having hair that defied gravity and acid wash jeans, girls who swooned over George Michael and guys who banged it out to Guns n' Roses. People that seemed to have been frozen in time in my mind as they were then - when our only focus was getting out of there and moving on with life.

A few of you, I spoke only a few words to over those years. I missed out on your strengths and experiences. I didn't see what our teachers obviously did. I regret that.

What has happened to you during these 20 years? I wonder how closely you are to that person who walked out of those doors some years ago. Marriages, divorces, children - born and lost, weight loss and weight gain, hair loss and dare I say, hair gain. I am sure there has been death, grief and heartaches, along with joys and celebrations. Dreams realized, dreams forgotten, dreams unfulfilled. Religious experiences, talents revealed, worldly travels, evolving careers and most assuredly, a quest to understand our purpose on this planet. All of that molding you into who you are now.

I know that through life's triumphs and trials, I have shed most of my insecurities that inhibited me from reaching out to others during those last 4 years of teenage torture. I see very little of that person who walked those halls, terrified of the critical eye of others which parlayed itself into some sort of falsely perceived snobbery. And, as much as we thought we knew each other then, I wonder how that is possible. How could we have ever really known each other if we didn't know who we were ourselves?

But now, it is time to reunite. A group of people brought together for their education. Shared experiences during the most tumultuous times of our lives. But why have this reunion? To relive the laughter, the tears, the highs and the lows - not only of those school years, but to share what life has thrown at us since. May we enter with compassion and less judgment and open ourselves to learn what each of us brings to the mighty class of '89.

Trapping the Giants

This morning, I was sitting at the kitchen counter, finishing up my rather large travel mug of coffee and checking in on some of my favorite blogs. I glanced over at the floor in front of the sofa and noticed a large, littered pile of dental floss. It made me smile at a memory of my precocious little Sadie.

Years ago, when she was a bit over 3, I recall coming out of my bedroom from feeding baby Lily to find a maze of dental floss running throughout our house - upstairs, around door knobs, down the stairs and through the railings, under the sofa, into the kitchen, around cabinet knobs and winding through the bar stools. Who knew all that floss in that little itty bitty container was soooooooo long?

"Oh Saaa-dieeeeee..... What is all of this?" I said with some perplexity and irritation.
"Mommy. I made a trap to catch the giants," she replied.

Clever, Creative, Curious. My little Sadie.