Fizz.

It. Is. Happening. Again.  I am slowly starting to fizz out. I can see it in the little things like getting to school a few minutes later. Or when I don't go through the girls paper's. Or how about when my husband asks if I want to have our peeps over for a bonfire and I say before he's even done speaking - no thanks. He just looks at me and  he knows. But he won't say anything...yet. Until he knows it's safe. 

Why does it happen? Why can't I keep the momentum going and my pop from going flat? So many questions keep me up at night...second guessing everything when my 6 pack is full of doubt.  I mean everything. Stupid things like: Should I keep my appointment for our family pictures this weekend? or how about:  Is it okay to have one stainless steel appliance and the others mis- matched? I mean Its like an orphan...it doesn't belong.  SQUIRREL.  What the hell is wrong with me? 

So I came home this afternoon and sat outside. I usually only like to be outside when there is a body of water involved but I needed air. I sat. No phone. No internet. Just me. And I listened.  My dog was rustling around in the leaves. The horses, our sweet horses, they were in the field just grazing. And I began to think how these animals came into our lives  at the most ideal time. They seemed to save us from continuing to fight at each other and start fighting for each other. I remained still and I knew at that moment what I needed to hear and know.  Maybe it is okay for my pop to go flat once in a while so that I can stop- and see how far I have come. Maybe its just that wake up call to be reminded that I am okay even when I am starting to fizz out. I just need to be still in that moment when I recognize it and embrace it. Not fight it.

 I just need some quiet time. I know that it is sometimes hard to find...but when this serial fizzer outer starts to feel the fizz dying - It's necessary. So here is what I plan to do for the rest of the week:

- wake up 10 minutes earlier and spend a few more minutes being still with my GOD and HIS word.

- drink less caffeine and fuel my body with natural energy and drink more water.

- kiss my husband more

- be on my phone less

- lean in to the fizz  - it is what it is. I'm gonna be okay with it. 

That's my plan. It's only for a few days. I can surely commit to these things.  It may not work. But I bet it will. Because that is what a hummingbird does...it tries like hell to find the good and even if they are flying backwards...we are still flying baby!

Momma Drama

There is an old polish proverb that goes like this, " Not my circus, not my monkeys". While some may think it is a silly phrase or a lame saying that means gibberish - they obviously have not found themselves in the tornado that is MOMMA DRAMA.   As much as I try and avoid it...and I do...it is sometimes hard not to jump on the bandwagon and ride that tornado until destroys everything in its path. Because it does. It will, maybe not in that moment but give it a little time and that momentum will pick up speed and then wham...you are in a F-5 tornado not knowing where to plant your feet.

I found myself in a situation not too long ago that I had to put my game face on and keep reciting the infamous proverb in my head...I had so much I wanted to say, to add to the story and share what my experience was and I just kept smiling and nodding my head. I wasn't being a jerk. I was engaged, I was interested in how this person felt,  (slighted) angry and mistreated and they needed to make it right. But I couldn't accept the invitation and here is why...

• it didn't affect me, or my kids or my husband or my village
• it had the potential to hurt another persons feelings
• there wasn't any risk in me not getting involved but if I did...it could be a storm that I would not be prepared for.
• it wasn't kind

Please don't confuse me for a boring Betty...I'm not, I have been caught up in my fair share of shit storms. I'm human. What I am saying is that I am trying...everyday... to refocus on what is good and whole and enough for me. 

 So here's the deal sometimes you just have to refrain...count to 5 or 55- or whatever you do to make yourself realize that you don't need to get involved in the mess or accept the invitation to the drama party. 

 A hummingbird can't fly in a tornado. It can't survive, eat or carry on. It doesn't do anyone any good to accept the invitation to  MOMMA DRAMA. So when I feel a storm coming on ...I will try like hell to flap my wings and fight the wind.... and decline with my game face on and get to my destination: Sweet peace...knowing that I avoided it this time. 

Play Ball

Today we spent the day at the softball field. I lived at ballparks growing up- baseball and softball was in bred in me. I played on two and three teams at a time. Practice every night. It was competitive. I loved it. I still do. 

I met some amazing people that are still part of my village. 

Now with my nine year old trying to find "her thing" I can feel the pressure closing in on her... without even trying. I am vocal. I try to not be...its not who I am. It just doesn't feel right to sit there at a softball game and not say a word. I have handed the reins over to Dad- who yes, has high expectations but is able to clear her head of the doubts that I have unintentionally put there and make her brave. 

I have created doubt in her. It doesn't matter how I hard I try...I can't say the right thing when it comes to playing softball.  

I want to tell her that she doesn't have to do it for me- but I don't think she will believe me.

I want to tell her that I am proud of her no matter what- but she will look away.

I want to tell her that she will find what she loves soon enough and to stop putting pressure on herself but she will give me a half smile and walk away.

So today, after her softball game, I joined her team in the pitcher circle and I reached for her hand. And her coach prayed. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed it back. That was all that was needed after her strike out and base running mishap. I didn't say a word. 

A few years ago I took her to a local softball camp in the summer. There was a wide range of talent there. All decked out in their gear: fancy bags, bows and bats. I sat there and watched. 

And this is what I saw; during a running drill another girl fell and Reese stopped. She helped her up. and then kept running. I want to scream:  WAY TO GO REESE CAROLINE. WAY TO BE KIND AND BRAVE. But I refrained for fear of people not getting it. So she didn't know. Until tonight.

I told her how amazingly proud I was of her- I AM proud of her. She may not be the fastest but when someone falls she is the one that stops and makes sure they are okay. I told her she has a huge heart. A compassionate and loving soul. I told her it took guts and bravery that morning to not worry about her own skills and how she finished the drill to lend a hand to a complete stranger. I told her I love her the rainbowest and no matter if she doesn't believe me or not I AM PROUD OF HER. 

 

She grabbed my hand squeezed it and said simply and sweetly, Thanks, MOM. That's a home run in my book!

D-ANGER alert

I have stayed away from writing about anger. For many reasons. The obvious... Hummingbirds look for sweet things! And then there is backlash of making others mad too...but, let's face it- I'm not sweet. All the time. And all the time I am not sweet. I don't pretend to be. Love all of me...

Things make me raving, crazy angry. But anger also builds walls...brick by brick. Anger is powerful too! It gets crap done!

It's real. It's authentic. This blog post from one of my favorite bloggers, Glennon Doyle Melton has given me the courage. The reminder that even facing your anger can be sweet. And for me writing about it is even more freeing and beautiful than one can imagine.  So,I am hoping you will continue to read if once and awhile I find the courage to embrace my anger... and go exactly where I need to go to heal. Come with me...I promise it will be a sweet ride.

Sometimes I get angry.

When I write about my anger, people get uncomfortable. Sometimes they even get upset. It’s really interesting. I thought you were the Love Wins lady, they say. I thought you cared about kindness. Why do people think that anger isn’t kind? Every internal or external love revolution starts with a little anger.

We should stop telling women and girls that they are not allowed to be sad or angry. Forbidding half of the human experience to half of the human race is quite insane and dangerous. It hurts women – bad. We internalize this “women don’t get angry” message and so every time we feel angry we layer shame on top of our anger. And so instead of using our anger, we hide it. We numb it with food or booze or snark or TV or sex or whatever else. We assume that if we are angry- there is something wrong with us instead of considering that maybe we are angry because there is something wrong with the world. Perhaps that “something wrong” is even something that we could help change. Maybe anger can be our fuel. Maybe anger is like compassion, in that it can point us directly toward the place in the world we were born to help heal.

A couple of years ago I was in the kitchen listening to Alanis Morissette. I love Alanis with all of my might- which is a lot of might. My then six year old daughter walked in and said with a touch of scorn, “Is this the angry lady again?” And I laughed and said, “I like how Alanis is passionate. I like how she’s not afraid to share her feelings, even when her feelings are angry. I love how she turns her love and anger into art so it helps others. She reminds me that it’s okay to be angry. ” And Tish said, “Girls shouldn’t get so angry.” And I said, Hm. I’m a girl and I get angry. And Tish looked at me and said, “Oh.” Then she went back to her room. A little while later, she tapped me on the back and said, “I get angry sometimes too, mom.” Phew, I said. That means you’re human. You know, I think anger is like fire- it can be used to save the world or burn it. We’ll just figure out how to use our anger to save the world, kay? “Kay” she said.

My daughter loves Alanis Morissette now. You have not lived until you’ve cooked mac and cheese next to an eight year old in pig tails singing at the top of her lungs: WHY ARE YOU SO PETRIFIED OF SILENCE? HERE, CAN YOU HANDLE THIS?

Yes. We can handle this, Tish. The world can handle you. The pretty sweet parts and the loud jagged parts. All of you. Be ALL of you. 

 - See more at: http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.I9Q4iI8u.dpuf