The Fairer Sex

One thing, among many if I'm honest, that irritates me is when I hear women complain about men. And marriage. Yes, it may occasionally be funny as it is obvious that there are many differences between men and women, but overwhelmingly, the opinion seems to be men just cannot do, and be, right. When did women collectively and individually decide that they are superior?

In my corner of the world. In my little cul-de-sac in upstate New York. I find this message so damaging. Long term. What are we teaching little girls? The women who follow behind us... What will they lose?

I am a strong woman. Very independent. Capable of many things. You should see me move a trashcan up a hill while on crutches. Seriously. You should have seen that. It was one for the books. I am a strong, independent woman, who just so happens to find strength in the protection of a man. Friends, note here that that trust does not come easily or lightly, strong and independent women take their time in forking over the pieces and bits and control of their heart to another.

I know my own identity as an individual, and yet, that identity only increases by the grounding I receive in the stability of the love of my husband. I've been married for twelve years. Just twelve. And so far, I can honestly say there has not been one day that I considered it a drudgery or "so much work and effort" in the context that it is an unhappy experience. I do not think my husband is an idiot who does stupid man things. In fact, if I allow him the opportunity to speak, he amazes me with his wisdom. I'm learning to say less so he can say more. When he says more my heart finds safety. Strong people need safety. A place where one can weep and still be counted a warrior.

I want to raise my boys to appreciate a strong woman. To let her have strength. But be a man that God intends. The role of strength, honor, and protection for women. Say all you want about women's rights, blah, blah, blah, but it is not in the power of a woman but in the power of a man. A man usually sets the course of a woman's life, for good or bad, starting with Dad.

Girls, it's not very popular right now to think you are less than a man. And I'm not suggesting that you are "less than" so much as "worthy" of being cherished and honored by a man. Allow yourself to have that. Take a break from girl power and strength and.... Breathe. A man naturally wants to honor you. The fairer sex. Let that happen. Mothers raise your sons to fulfill and be proud of that role. Mothers raise your daughters with these expectations.

As a strong woman, I can just as easily pay for the bill without blinking an eye. But there definitely is a special feeling when the bill is paid on your behalf. Honored. "Let ME take care of YOU." Cherished. You aren't going to lose, dear nieces, dear girlfriends everywhere, you are going to flourish.

This One Is For The Parents

I love being a mother.

I think God had this in his heart when he created me. I am a natural caregiver. It comes so easily from my heart to others.

Those early days were exhausting, and some of the best and worst moments of my life. For example, the day that my oldest son, at the age of two, sprayed his younger brother, who was chilling in his crib, in the face with cleaning chemicals. His eyes were basically glued shut for 24 hours. I maybe got 457th place in the category "worst mom of the year" in 2008. By 2010, I hadn't improved very much, and son #2 was once again on the losing end of a war with his brother, and was being seen by the doctor for a large puss filled blister on his face that housed 4 large splinters of wood from a "sword fight." Seriously. Seriously. What in the world?! But, truly, the countless moments that I spent rocking and kissing babies was far more rewarding than the embarrassing moments I spent defending myself in the office of my children's pediatrician. You just never knew what each day would bring as the mother of littles. I often wish I could go back, as the person I am today, and redo a lot of those moments. I think I would do it better. Most certainly I would.

But we only get to live life in the present tense though. And the stage of parenting that I am in now, I'm definitely rocking it, as I did shaking in my shoes with a screaming baby who couldn't see. I have all the wisdom I need. Said no mother ever. In ten years I will look back and know all the things I should do. I will know that this stage is the best, and you can't get these years back, and an empty nest is weird. Because. In ten years, I will have essentially launched, hopefully successfully, two sons. Ten years. That's it. I will be 47, and ohmaword, have the potential to be a Grandma. Ohmaword. It's true. But let's hope not.

Today my real life scenario is all about the emotions. Dealing with complex issues of how to deal. How to manage action, reaction, repercussions, and thought processes. I get you, friends, I get you. When you tell me that I'm hard to deal with because. emotions. I get you. It might have taken me 37 years to fully comprehend that I am a handful, but I'm there. I. Am. Tracking. Thank you for your grace. Thank you for loving me anyway. Truly.

I'm exhausted every day because I work all the hours and come home to mold and guide. And it's hard. And it requires effort. It requires coaxing, encouraging, and vigilance. Because you could just let this moment and that moment slip, but then what? Let the moody silence go because you can't even, or stop and address it? I know next gen me will have all the answers. I wish I could be her. 50 is the new 20, right? But no, I will not wish away a whisper of this vaporous life.

These sweet, sweet sons of mine are my whole heart. (I know I am completely over-the-top biased, but they are so lovable.) I see they are uncertain of themselves and this new world. I see it is difficult to make the transition to life as a process that I engage and do, rather than receive. It's a big leap. Uncharted. Intimidating.

I'm in for the ride, kiddos, Mommy is here. We're quickly approaching the "Don't touch me" phase. We're past the "Rock me" phase. So while we're stuck somewhere in the middle, somewhere that it's okay to hug that hurt today, but don't ask me about school tomorrow, know Mommy's heart is always for you. That it has always been for you. It has been my greatest joy to watch over you (or try to...Sorry Aaron). And as the distance between you and me begins to expand, know that as it is a hard transition for you, it is also a hard transition for me. In almost equal parts I want to hold you tight and watch you fly.

All I can ask. All I can hope. Is that in the end....

May passion be the wind
That leads you through your days
And may conviction keep you strong
Guide you on your way
May there be many moments
That make your life so sweet
Oh, but more than memories

I pray that God would fill your heart with dreams
And that faith gives you the courage
To dare to do great things
I'm here for you whatever this life brings
So let my love give you roots
And help you find your wings

Have you ever thrown a pickle?

Do you take pause, dear readers, do you take pause and consider your influence? Each person has a sphere of influence whether they realize it exists, or understand the implications of the impact. The words you use. The body language you employ. The company you keep. These all express you. People are reading. People are interpreting.

Influence.

This is one area of my life in which I spend a lot of time reflecting. I realize that this life is passing away. Soon Angela will be just a memory. Soon her high pitched voice will be silent, her blue eyes will stare unseeing, her "pen" will be still, and for-the-love she will finally stop eating all the carbohydrates she can find. I so desperately wish that I could attend my own funeral. Ya know? Listen in and roll my eyes at the stories. Aside from the pickle story being told verbatim, I cannot begin to fathom which memories will be vibrant and which have paled.

If you follow my life, if we're close friends, or barely acquaintances, you likely know that I am not afraid to let it all hang out. I am stubborn. I am opinionated. I think more of myself than I should sometimes. Sometimes the opposite. I'm pessimistic - the chocolate bar is always half gone. I love Diet Coke and sweet tea and coffee and hate water. (My future plans do not include visiting the desert.) I have had many, many life experiences which means I have a treasure trove of stories. (Perhaps rather than a novel I should write about my life... But, again, that is what a blog is for!) I have done some ridiculous things. I almost died in the desert. For realz. Which is why I refuse to return.

I don't know what others would share about me. But it would be so neat to hear. When I reflect on who I am, when I close my eyes in this world, and open them in the next, this is what I hope you will see...

Food. We gotta mention food. Food is the universal bonding agent. I hope you know how much joy I received in having you for a meal in my home. I hope you will invite others in the same manner. It's so important.

Caring. I hope you felt cared about by me. I hope you felt empathy for your woes, and your joys.

Joy. I hope I made you laugh. Laughing is so fun. It's so necessary.

Passion. I hope my passion is evident. For so many things. Talking is one. Oh. My. Word.

God. I hope that somewhere in my life you will have seen even a small glimpse of who he is. That you will know he exists. That his love for you is relentless. That you are beloved.

These are areas that I hope will be my legacy, and by so declaring, I pursue these. I won't be around to hear if I have been successful, but one thing I know, someone will laugh at least once at the pickle story. As told by Fred, Robert, Chris, or Joyce.