What If You Laugh

The Best Advice I’ve Ever Been Given

“Yesterday is not ours to recover,
but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose.”
Lyndon B. Johnson

Funny how things work. I had envisioned the start of school this year as a new beginning for me. Finally I would have a 6 hour stretch each day with noone but myself to take care of. Well not exactly—taking care of the house and family is my job, but at least for 6 hours a day I would not have to attend to immediate needs of others. In my fantasy, I would drop the children at school, do 15 minutes of meditation, go for a nice run or do some yoga, write a blog, research ideas for a new career, then attend to cleaning, shopping, cooking, family finances etc.

Here we are several months into it and while I have managed most of those things, they usually do not occur on the same day and not nearly as often as I would like. Instead of the nice runs, I have been going to endless doctor visits trying to fix my feet. Meditation? Not so much. I have done a bit of yoga and it is wonderful. Why don’t I do more? Career? I can’t even manage to clean the house and go to the grocery store!

I have managed a couple of trips that weren’t on the schedule–one to see my daughter (fun) and one to see my father (in ICU, but ended well), but for the most part, I have just muddled, starting one project and wandering into another and another and then its time to pick up the kids and do homework, dinner, baths and bedtime.

Not what I had envisioned. And it really mucks up the story I had been telling myself for the last 23 years: If I could just have two minutes to rub together where I wasn’t taking care of a client or a kid or a husband, I would get myself and my house and my money in perfect shape and find my “true calling” in life.

Yesterday I was thinking of good advice I have been given over the years. The best came from my husband, “You are just going to have to be stronger.” At the time, there were a lot of bad things going on in my life and I was looking for a shoulder to cry on, so his advice wasn’t well taken. I sulked for a while and then realized that he was right. So I was.

It was amazing to find that I could be stronger instantly–just by deciding that I would be. A mental shift that changed my world.

Anyway yesterday, I was thinking that the corollary is:

It doesn’t matter what you did to get where you are, all you can do is go from here.

But today I saw the quote from Lyndon B. Johnson and while its meaning is the same, it is more elegant and inspirational: “Yesterday is not ours to recover, but tomorrow is ours to win or to lose.” No more dwelling on my past mistakes; my focus is forward.

And as for some more best advice I was given, this time by my father:

CHARGE!

P.S. I am sure I didn’t thank either of them for their wisdom. So thanks Dad, thanks Hubby.

Things I Should Have Taught My Daughter

As my oldest child left home, I gave her a set of tools. Most had flowers on the handles, but they were real tools. I also gave her a cordless drill/driver, which is my favorite tool in the whole world. During my single years, I had learned how to use tools because it was a lot cheaper than hiring everything done. If I hadn’t seen it done, I would read about how to do it. I made some mistakes and did some things the hard way, but I was pretty pleased with myself. I liked the feeling of competency and was sure she would want the same.

What I did not give her was lessons on how to use the tools or more importantly, on how things work.

So, the cordless drill didn’t really come naturally and after screwing (pun intended) a few things up, she mostly asked the guys next door to do things like hang her blinds. Luckily she had guys next door that knew how.

Recently, she decided to give it another shot. She and four of her housemates (2 guys and 2 girls) decided to take down one of interior doors in the home.

My daughter later called to tell me: “Mom, you will be so proud of me. Not only am I the only one with tools, but I was the only one that knew how to use my cordless driver to unscrew all the screws on the hinges.”

Me: You unscrewed the screws?

Her: (proudly) Yes.

Pause

Me: (slowly) Uh, none of you thought to take the pins out?

Her: What pins?

Me: You know, the little stick that goes through the hinges and holds them together.

Her: Why would we do that?

Me: (Again slowly) Because then you don’t have to take out the screws.

Her: Oh.

We both start laughing.

Me: You mean that none of the 5 of you knew this?! Really?!

At least I’m not the only parent that didn’t prepare my child for the real world!

If I am not my Brain, Who am I?

My big brain talks way too much!
Photo Credit: Stock Free Images & Dreamstime Stock Photos ©Chrisharvey

In the past, I relied on books, magazines and audio recordings for guidance in my intermittent, but ongoing self-help journey. Recently I decided to look at blogs and today I read one on Empower Network that really sang to me, so to speak.

Anytime I consider starting anything new in the business world, my brain kicks into high gear listing reasons that it won’t work. “I’m not smart enough” or “I am not good at developing a customer base”, or “no one will want to read what I write”. It goes on… “I won’t have enough time for the children” or “I’m too old.” The list of reasons seems endless.

And if I go the next step and try to visualize what it would be like if I were wildly successful, it gets even worse. “Everyone with lots of money is a snob.” “Children of wealthy people turn out to be lazy and spoiled.” Again the list goes on. According to my brain, success is apparently bad.

Yet I want to be successful–both in gaining the respect of others and financially.

So why are the voices in my head so discouraging? I am reasonably smart, well educated, have a good work ethic, a supportive family. Why shouldn’t I be able to start up a successful business?

The answer may be that my life is pretty good right now. I have a supportive family, plenty of time for my kids and since I retired from the law practice a couple of years ago, only a reasonable amount of stress. Plus, I finally have a few minutes to take care of myself.

So if I have it so good, why take any risks? Why put myself out there where I can fail. My brain is trying to keep me in this comfortable spot and protect me from harm. Unfortunately its tactics are not only hard on my self esteem, but it also is preventing me from getting to an even better place.

And, crazy as it sounds, my brain isn’t me! This blog explains it better than I can, so I’ll just put the link right here: About the Brain–Harnessing the Voices Inside Your Head

I’m not sure how to stop listening to my negative brain, but I’m definitely going to work on it. Your suggestions are welcome.

p.s. If my brain isn’t me, who am I? As noted in previous posts, my brain and my mouth often act independently–hope I am not my mouth!

Toilets and Tires and TGIF

So my day started with the toilet backing up and my very creative and independant 6 year old deciding that the solution would be to continue flushing–until it over flowed. A lot. I mean A LOT! Never mind I say, it’s clean house Friday, so the floor needed to be scrubbed anyway. And because it is my responsibility to teach him how to live without me, I showed him the plunger and explained how to use it. He was too little to push it, so I had to anyway. Damn.

See the tire tracks? That's the direction the van should be heading! — See the tire tracks? That’s the direction the van should be heading!

I get the children to school, slip sliding on my terrible tires all the way. I return home only to get stuck in the snow at the end of my driveway. Naturally my husband and the big strong men who live next door are all away. Determined not to be the helpless little woman, I decide to handle this myself. I haul a couple of rugs out (it’s a long driveway) and put them under the front tires thinking I just need a little traction. Doesn’t budge. Okay, I trudge up and get the shovel and dig around the tires. This is more work than it sounds because I managed to lodge myself in a snowpile up to the top of the tires. No luck.

About this time a good samaritan in a truck stops and offers to help. He has me walk all the way over to the shed to get a smaller shovel. We dig for a while and try. No movement at all. He has me go get sand out of the sandbox, again a long trek. The sand is frozen because the kids never put the lid on the sandbox, so it was wet when it got cold, but I manage to break free half a bucket full. I grab a bag of birdseed for good measure and head back down the drive.

We dig and sprinkle and spin and dig and sprinkle and spin and his wife joins us digging and sprinkling and spinning and I am feeling really guilty for taking up their whole morning when I have just remembered I could call AAA and they would pull me out for free (not really free, I pay a membership fee). I don’t want to tell him that, so I suggest that I taken enough of their time, I will call my husband. He says oh no, I;ll get it.

One might think I intentionally drove into the snowpile, but I swear I turned!

I realize that this has become personal challenge for him. I ask if this has become his own challenge and he smiles and says yes and I know he’s not leaving until the job is done. (gotta love these midwest men). I work up a sweat, my hair is wet, my white sweatshirt and face are splattered with mud, but we finally get it out.

He examines my tires, and tells me I need new ones and should get it done today. He then tells me I am not to go up the driveway again, because I will get stuck again. I am to park on the street and then he explains to me how to park so I won’t get stuck there. Last he says do you have $20 bucks? I was startled but say yes of course. He starts waiving his arm and flags down a guy with a snow blade on the front of his truck. He talks to the guy a minute and then turns back to me, saying he’ll be back in half an hour to shovel the drive! Why do I have this weird feeling that I suddenly have two husbands? or maybe its two fathers. Yeah that’s it, my husband would have told me to shovel the drive myself, not pay to have it done.

They leave, and I call my husband. I relate the toilet story and the snow story. I was wrong; I sold my husband short. He did not tell me to shovel the drive. Instead he says, “Sounds like you better pour yourself a drink (never mind its 9:00 a.m), I’ll take care of the drive when I get home.” That’s my man. He knows how to make his woman happy.

Meanwhile, the guy with the snowblade came and plowed the driveway and left. I don’t know whether the first good samaritan paid him, or if he just felt sorry for me. There are so many really good people out there! Thank you, and

Cheers!

Chubs

Chubs’ proper name is Tanto, given to him by my oldest daughter. He is allegedly a purebred Pomeranian, and supposed to be 7-10 pounds. A purse puppy. Well, either he is a “throwback” or the American Eskimo (also bred at the same breeder) somehow got into the Pomeranian pen. Either way, he’s no purse puppy!

She worked hard to keep him small, rationing his food and lots of exercise. Even so he weighed in at 14 pounds and insisted that he was starving. However, when she moved to an apartment that did not allow dogs, she was forced to find a new home for Tanto. My husband was raised on a farm where animals live in the barn and people live in the house, so we were not on the preferred list, but somehow we still ended up with Tanto.

Tanto immediately found his way into the house, and into my husband’s heart and even into our bed, much to my daughter’s relief. My husband and our two youngest children, and all right, even me, all enjoy giving Tanto treats–he’s so cute when he begs. Tanto, under our care, soon ballooned to 24 pounds! Hence the nickname Chubs.

So now, he’s on a diet. Which is a long lead in to this short story:

The other day, the weatherman predicted a snowstorm. I filled a tub with firewood–probably a dozen or so logs so we wouldn’t have to go out and get firewood during the blizzard. Tanto starts whining and barking and circling the logs. This goes on for some time and his bark and whine are getting more urgent. Since I had loaded the logs one at a time, I was pretty sure that I had not brought in some creature, so I ignored him… for awhile.

He got my attention again when he started biting the logs and tearing off strips! Surely he wasn’t so hungry he would eat logs? I decided that maybe I had brought in a mouse after all. The tub was too heavy to carry, so I put on my gloves and started pulling the logs out, one by one, all the while praying that Tanto had it in him to catch a mouse. I got down to the very last log and picked it up. Tanto leaps into the tub and quickly bites

wait for it

. . .

a Milkbone!

Yes, a Milkbone. Not a real bone, not a rawhide, not a mouse. All that craziness because he smelled a Milkbone Biscuit under the firewood!

What a nose my little hunter has.