Raising a Toddler- and How I will never be the same

Probably all of you are shaking your heads right now; especially those of you who have actual toddlers, or have had toddlers in your home, because you know that I have no such toddler in my home. So, that's correct. I have no human toddlers.  The truth of the matter is that I do actually have a real "toddler," but he's just short of nine months old. He has fur, and  he's a cat.

Nelson Rutherford Beene Davis Hunter

Over the last ten, eleven months I've been a single dweller.  Aside from my plant loves, I've really been responsible for keeping one person alive: that'd be me. While that seems to be a relatively easy task for most people, I sometimes get a little off task. (Really, I'm as boring as this current winter/polar vortex/snow/roads of death is long.) However, because I live alone I often find myself in precarious situations, well, because, I can do it myself.  

Nelson has changed everything. 

My friend brought him over, and he was this bitty thing. Cute and purring. He would hide under my couch because he was afraid. I hid in my bed because I was afraid. I prayed, "Oh God, (this is not a joke, I really prayed) please do not let me kill him. Please help me to keep him alive." He was new. Tiny. I had to feed him. Make sure he had his water. We did survive that weekend, and the week, and the weeks after that. For three months we've been partners in life. I'm fairly certain I'm in love.

It's been a learning experience.
Phrases you will hear often at my house:
Nelson, use your words.
Nelson, I'm gonna count to three....
Nelson, no you cannot eat anymore plastic. 

Blanche, my first love (who I hope is merely hibernating in winter, and not dead) was always there when I arrived home. Cheerfully green. But no words. Nelson though, especially at first could be heard outside my house, outside of two doors, mewing for me, unsure if I would come back for him. When I did arrive back home, he was at the door before I was hardly out of my car. 

1) Things are things. Love is love.

I am sentimental. There are things that I hold dear, and usually it is because they were a gift from someone. One reason why Blanche, and Solaris are so important to me is because they were bought and given to me by two of my great friends. There are other treasures that I have that I've had to put away, lock up safely because my little buddy could break them. How do we measure something's value? Is it based on its beauty? Or, what it cost? 

Truly, I can replace a couch.  (And hairbands (he eats them... ewwww.) And toilet paper. And paper towels.)

But what do you love? If you could live with only those* that you love, what would it be?

Nelson, despite his toddler-ish ways, is one of a kind. And, he's definitely a keeper (although, he's being really quiet in the other room right now, I'm sure it's bad news...) 

2) We all just need a little time.

I've always been people-y. Ironic that I now work from home and often go days and days (polar vortex anyone- I'm not edgy) without leaving the house and seeing anyone else. I adjust, as a result. I have learned how to be content (ish) on my own. I still need my people though. I recharge and renew when I'm with friends. There is something wonderful about being with people who are encouraging and uplifting. When you can walk away knowing you are a better person because of your friend- you can rest assured that person is a keeper. 

Nelson is not too proud to need a little time. He will often sit on my lap and sleep while I'm working all day, typing on my computer.  There's a difference though between that, and really spending a little time.  He doesn't want just one hand rubbing his head. He wants my attention. 

Where do you spend your time? 

Are the questions you asking, the questions that really matter?

Are you drifting off into games to get away when you should be elsewhere or are you investing a little time into what really matters?

3) Anger Management isn't just for the court ordered.

I've always considered myself patient. Screaming baby? Challenge accepted. Nerves calm? Absolutely. But Nelson has had this way of brining out a little something inside me. It was nearer to the beginning. He scared me, because I believe I scared him. As a result, I got scratched. I was so angry. Then I was angry at myself- for being angry. That's not who I want to be. I want to be slow to anger. 

If you know me, you know I love words, and words and words. Are all the words always necessary? 

Are there ones that should not be said? 

Are there ones that should not be thought? 

What is in you that needs to be rooted out?
Was there any reason for me to be angry that night? Nope. Did I need to learn something new? Yes. Sometimes "we" may feel like we are right, because... well, we're right. But is it worth it? Is the cause behind the anger really just? Or, are we just angry because it's our "right" to be? I don't want that to be the way it is in my case. 

I've come a long way with Nelson. I have learned to avoid situations that could get him into trouble. Paper towels all over the kitchen floor, literally ripped in pieces? No big deal. I've found a new hiding spot. While I talk with him all the time, we really cannot communicate with words (although sometimes I imagine he is talking to me). Instead of words, he measures my voice with how it sounds. 

I prayed that night too, that night so long ago when I was angry. I asked Nelson for forgiveness (he is purr-ty (heh) forgiving. I asked God to help me lose the attitude and to lose the anger. The thing is, if I can be angry with a little kitten, how will I respond to people? To my own kids? To my friends, family? Angry? That's just not who I want to be.

4) And Sometimes we just need a little fun.

Ain't that just the truth?

Later folks, 

Seriously, he's being way too quiet in there!

The Itsy Bitsy.....

The song is cute, right? There are even hand motions. It's so sweet watching little ones sing about a spider... actually- why is this cute?

I was in Guatemala. It was 1998, and I was with my youth group in a town called La Libertad. It was gorgeous. Literally gorgeous.

Our days were packed. The evenings were also packed. But, when we weren't out busy doing what we were doing we were staying in a beautiful home. All of the rooms opened out onto a large patio which overlooked the mountain and hillside areas. (Did I mention gorgeous?)

There was a rooster situation, which resulted in a song. Which I still know.  (Another story.) Anyways. We were sleeping on these mattresses upstairs. Totally bundled up, sweatshirt/pants, blankets (pretty sure they were moldy- can blankets mold? or mildew-whatever- but they were warm!)

One morning, early I was startled to hear the word, "Tarantula! Tarantula!" being yelled over and over. Being a committed sleeper, I did what one would expect. I turned over and went back to sleep.
A bit later, everyone was talking about a tarantula had gone rogue and was running around on the porch. "Stephanie! You were sleeping on the ground! The tarantula could have gotten you! Didn't you hear us yelling?"

"Well, yeah. But I wasn't worried." The truth is, I was not. Maybe it was because I was sleeping, but I really think it was more than that. I knew that the people that were there had the situation handled. And they did. I was not needed. Nor was my worry. And there's the rub.

The worry. (Goodness, anyone sense a theme?)

It's like a disease that debilitates. It cripples. Worry transforms into many things, usually uglier, bigger and nastier than a tarantula. It's hideous.
Is anyone else tired of worry? Because I am.

So tonight, I'm going to close up my laptop. Have a little chat with the One who knows me best. Again. About this worry thing. And then tomorrow (actually today!) I'm going to throw off my (not moldy or mildew-y, and in fact a lovely yellow) blankets and not worry about the day. I'm not going to worry about my job. I'm not going to worry about the snow, or heaters or cars not working. I'm gonna worry about nothing. The tarantula, I mean the worry that I have been putting in my bag every morning as I head out the door to work (you know) I'm gonna leave it behind.

God's got this.

Stay warm! Shine bright!

My New Old Friend

When I was younger, I had five, yes FIVE, imaginary friends. They weren't necessarily the best playmates (because they weren't real, duh!) but I would write about the great adventures we would have together. As a group of friends goes, we got along amazingly well. We belonged together. , Who would ever want to write the story where they are the outsider? Even Nancy Drew has her trusty besties at her side. In life, however, there is no script. Life is not fair, and things don't always make sense.

Every group it seems has its key players. There's the "glue," that person that makes everyone stick together. There's the funny one. The responsible one. The smart one. Of course somewhere squeezed in there is the rebel. All of them together make sense.  Like an orchestra where each instrument works in harmony with one another. Separately they have their own jobs, they make their own music, but together they are powerful and overwhelmingly in accord and absolutely beautiful.

Then, there is oftentimes the outsider. The one who doesn't quite belong; think octagon trying to squeeze into the hexagon shape.  In an orchestra it's like the unusual instruments that do not normally appear, like a contrabassoon.

When I write, I write what I know. Right now, I know moving. I know starting over. From the depths of my soul, I know being new. I know not belonging.  It's hard- this being new. It requires stamina, and the ability to try and try again. It requires a lot of breathing. And stretching.

These moments, these moments of not belonging, are the moments when my friend, Uncertainty, arrives and settles in for a visit. She is comfortable with me, no matter where I have lived or gone she often comes with. She'll show up late. Leave early.  We know each other well. There is not necessarily a rhyme or reason as to why she visits when she does. Sometimes I usher her out in a most terrible-hostess sort of a way. I shoo-shoo her ideas and notions. This has become more common- the dismissal of her attempt at intruding. I have become less willing to accept her visits the more I learn about myself. But there are times, like today, I pass her some hot chocolate and the TV changer and curl up beside on the couch and determine that maybe a little break is in order. Uncertainty knows me so well.

One day my friendship with Uncertainty will be dissolved in total.  One day, and I look forward to this day, the contrabassoon will have its place in an orchestra of distinguished peers. One day, the octagon won't need to be a hexagon. One day I will belong in total to myself, with my own spot in my own mind and my own heart, knowing fully that wherever I am, I belong. One day.

One day.

Reflection and a bit of Pandiculation

The Proform Stretch Pro. "Stretch dozens of different muscles to maximize your workout performance and reduce risk of injury." Of course, this little beauty is just one stretching machine on the market. Pilates, Yoga, even football teams sing the benefits of stretching.  Even my Nelson cat stretches frequently. (I'm watching him stretch right now as he sleeps in a chair across the room.) 

Last year was full. Full of the stuff of life. Full of heartbreak and sadness, and yet full of life and joy and laughing. I would conquer the world, only to meet reality. Like ice to the face. Even moving to a new office location (i.e., my house. Pearl. Where I work alone every day!) brings its own set of challenges.  I have found over the last months (really my entire life)  that I have been stretched. Sometimes reluctantly.  But what is life if not an opportunity to learn and grow... and change. 

One of the hardest things for me is not being totally in control. This last year there have been multiple times with my dad or my brother that I was definitely not in control. Mainly because, well, I'm not a doctor, and I'm certainly not God. I was scared. Scared because I didn't know what was wrong, and because  want them to feel better. I was given two choices in those moments (and I still have only two choices). I can learn to accept the peace that God and God alone can grant. Or, I can contort myself into a raging, sleepless, lunatic. One who bites her nails, eats Cheetos and laughs maniacally at inappropriate times. I choose the peace route, but it still requires WORK. I want to master this in one day. But, I just cannot. I am too much of a human, and instead I must daily surrender and give up those feelings of helplessness and instead accept peace... The quiet calm feeling that swallows doubt and fears and all things negative and ugly whole. 

As I have gone through life I have learned and applied. One thing I do know for sure, life is not mastered overnight, in one moment. It requires over and over and over.  

What do I want people to see and know when they look at me? 

I want people to see someone who is highly imperfect (but has finally managed to keep her hair brushed, and not lit on fire).

Someone who loves Jesus, and does her best to spread the love around.

Someone who has a little gleam in her eye. 

Someone who has learned to not make so many faces when people say weird things.

I want people to know that I will love them with no exceptions. 

I want people to know that I lean heavy on the quirky side, and that I am comfortable with it. 

I don't want to be mean. 

I will not laugh at someone because they are different. I will hug someone even if they smell funny, and I will give you a glass of sweet tea if you come to my porch. 

I will accept a challenge. I won't back down. While I may struggle through the sludge of change and trials of becoming new, I will make it through to the other side. 

I will be flexible. 

This I want people to see. 

And I want it to all be true.

2014, (My self proclaimed year of love; seriously,  who wouldn't love to have dinner with me? I'm fun.) I want to sit back on December 31, and be able to say, "I'm not the same as I once was," and know that it is true. 

That being said, stretching doesn't seem to be all that bad, does it?

"It is by sitting down to write every morning that one becomes a writer."

Gerald Brenan

Random Facts

2014 I decided to call out for some Blog-assistance. Specifically asking for additional ideas or topics that my two readers might want to read about. The challenge in that is to also make sure that it stays me.

In High School I took a creative writing course. While there were a few assignments that allowed for free writing- writing whatever you choose- the majority of the assignments included specific requirements that had to be met. I have always loved writing for myself. But I have found that I enjoy when other people enjoy what I have written. So by chance if you do read this, and you want to hear something from me, let me know! Seriously. Let me know.

That being said, here we are January 2, 2014.
And here is my first post for the year. (And only 51 to go!)

Things you may not know (and will wish you never did know) about me:
1. Pre college graduation I always hated people looking at my feet. I rarely wore sandals. Friends thought that they would help me to get over my phobia by holding me down, taking off my shoes and socks and starring at my feet. That only traumatized me. After I went to work at a camp in California, I got over it.   There are far weirder feet out there than mine!
2. My favorite color is red. The red like a bubble gum ball machine red. It makes me happy. If you look at those quizzes online, "What does your favorite color say about you?" it says many things about folks who love red. Apparently I'm always in a hurry, wanting to do everything right now. Patience not being a strong point.... Unfortunately, that's totally accurate.
3. While shopping in a store a few weeks ago, I accidentally touched velvet. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard.
4. I love fall, the smell of burning leaves, hot chocolate, s'mores and roasting hot dogs.
5. I like the music from the ballet, "The Nutcracker," but I've never seen it. Every year at Christmas time I would listen to my record on my trustee record player. Nothing sounds better than vinyl and I so wish I still had a record player.
6. I used to think that I would grow to be five feet, five inches tall. I didn't even make it to five feet three. In high school the kid who's locker was by mine was over six feet tall. He would constantly (though accidentally) hit me in the head with the locker cubby.
7. I still remember my locker combination.
8. I bought a house in June 2013. I named her Pearl. She was built in 1900. We pretty much get along most of the time. Especially now that I have a new furnace and am warm again.
9. I love sharp cheddar cheese.
10. Today I realized that 2014 is actually almost like 2/14, which is Valentine's Day. That means that this year is the year of love. That means someone out there would love to buy me dinner. Takers?

Happy New Year folks!

Check. Check. Check check.

I am totally an obsessive doer. As such, I like checklists and goals.
My current job: PERFECT. (Especially because I work from home) My job benefits me, but also benefits those who manage me, because every day I work off an electronic "to-do" list. I actually am able to check "COMPLETE," when I'm done with any given particular task. Ba-da-bam. Just what I like.

Even in my home life, I am a lister. I take pride in crossing off tasks on my lists. Occasionally, I write down things I may have already completed, just so that I can … cross them off.

What I am not certain about is when exactly worrying became a "doing" activity, right up there with cleaning, vacuuming, project-ing, planning, and somehow also a replacement for praying.

I pace. When I worked in an office, I would get into an empty elevator, and walk in circles. I'll fuss with my hair, I'll bite my lip. I'll clean and reorganize, redecorate, paint a wall… all in an effort to stay busy and be productive.

Then.
Then, the lights go out. The mind night light pops on and the wheels start a-turnin'. Was that a noise? Or lightning?
Was that a car door? Did I turn off the stove? Where's Nelson?

Earlier tonight I spoke with a friend and told a story about my basement at home. (Home (parents'  home, not Pearl home.)) I was around sixth grade, and it was the summer, and I had been roller skating in the basement- yes, I already know I'm cool.  I decided it was time to walk upstairs. Only I didn't just walk. Instead I imagined someone chasing after me, running faster and faster… so I quickly ran faster and faster up the stairs (keep in mind, this was a game I often played) I reached the top, turned the corner, and was knocked to the floor when I was smashed in the head with a heavy object! I may have hollered. To be honest, I threw my hands over my head, threw myself against the wall, and sank to the floor... and I screamed like they pay big money in Hollywood if you can scream-scream. Was my imagination that good? Did I actually dream up and create a real-life intruder who decided to run upstairs after me?

Nope. It just so happened that the hallway light fixture fell from the ceiling and bashed me in the head in the exact moment I was running underneath it.

Coincidence. Yes. I think so…
Although, if I had not let my imagination, crazy mind go wild, I would not have been running like a maniac through the house. Very possible that the light fixture would not have come loose at the moment I was below it. Would not have hit me on the head.
In the middle of my crazy "game," I ran into danger- or really danger hit me over the head. (No worries, I was totally fine.)

In a doers life, we like to be productive. I know I'm not alone.

The trouble is at some point there are items that cannot be completed with a check mark.
John is here with me for a few days. Although he is the same whether with me, or home, I am a crazy monitoring fool when I have him. I watch him. Make him look at me in the face so I can look at his eyes. I make him sit if he looks shaky, sleep if he seems tired. Doing. That's what I am is doing.

I also worry. Worry which becomes an obsession. Worry prevents sleep. Causes ulcers. Worry results in a fully lit house and high electric bill. Worry is not doing. It undos the work we want to do.

Here tonight, on the morning of New Year's Eve, I am setting my mind to the productive doer I want to be. Time is precious. We can hold on trying to grip minutes and hold them tightly, but we cannot. I cannot. I cannot spend seconds, minutes, hours worrying in 2014. I have things to do.

In 2014, I will work on being the Stephanie who takes moments of concern in order to pray. I will be the one who asks for wisdom to know the difference between reality and imagined. I will not be the sleep-deprived-Psycho-wild-haired-smelling-like-a-banchee-Stephanie, screaming through the house.
And, I think I'll save my wild imagination for stories that I put on paper.

Tomorrow will wait. Let's conquer today in a way that will amaze them all.

"Worrying is carrying tomorrow's load with today's strength- carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength."

~Corrie Ten Boom

Tied up with a Bow

Christmas 2013 is over.
The last few weeks involved lots of family, cleaning and surprises.

Pearl and I hosted our first Christmas family meal. As all of us were were casually adorned (I was in some new fancy jammies) we ate on my newest fine China (literally straight from China) and we drank sweet tea from the fanciest of goblets.

Then just as quickly, it was over. Family gone. Secrets over. Then I realize 2013 is quickly coming to a close.

Growing up, my parents had a hard and fast rule when it came to Christmas presents. You peek, you get nothing. You find, it all goes back. As a people pleaser, and an ambitious be-gooder, I believed them. We could never even pick up the presents and give a shake. To make matters worse, they would not even be labeled with our names. There was no way to know what present belonged with whom until Christmas morning and they were passed out.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved the anticipation, the looking forward-to, surprises. I love surprises. Even now, I'm usually one of the last to finish opening, as I love watching other people and seeing the surprise, and excitement on their faces.

This year was no different. It came too slowly and then sped away.

This year is going by too fast. Too quick. As excited as I am about tomorrow, I'm reluctant to leave today. I don't know about tomorrow. I don't know what is going to happen in 2014.  No idea. But, I think that while the Christmas trees are being packed away, there are quite a few surprises headed my way. Kinda exciting.

Can ya Dig It

I had a record player. It had been a Christmas present that I had received sometime during the elementary school years. I loved it. It only made sense that come time for college, I’d pack it up and bring it with.

I was alone with my record player. Others (including my roommate) had moved on to the new fangled multi-disc cd players. My music-playing machine didn’t make it out of the box when I arrived at school. Instead it slid quietly under my bed where it stayed. Until my first break, when it inconspicuously made it way back to the safety of home.

We all have secrets about ourselves. Some things appear to others when we don’t realize anyone is watching. Other things we tuck away so carefully that only those who stay around the longest and watch the closest could even hope to find out. For me, there are things that I kept secret even from myself.  

There are a few people that I have met over the years, more than a few actually, who knew who they were, with no question. It would be the way that they walked, or how they embraced details about themselves, that gave it away. They would shrug off uncertainty because those things that made them them, did not cause them embarrassment.

These things about myself, the things that others wear so proudly, I have tried to hide them. Random comments? I could be queen. I was highly embarrassed about this, but now, try to beat me.

And yes, I can talk a long time. I have a lot of words to say.  I would try to tuck them away, but now try to stop me.

I really love laughing. Really laughing, and I try to as often as possible.

I’m obsessed with owls, little birdies and elephants. I use a scale involving the words: like, love, awesome, totally, and absolutely when explaining how I feel about things. And yes, I make up my own words and use them on a regular basis. Oh and the word, “Seriously,” well, I should have a t-shirt made that says, “seriously,” so that I could just point to it as needed. Because, seriously? I say it all the time.

So in the life and times of Stephanie, as I attempt to find my groove, the groove that so many others seem to just have, I have learned a few things. About myself. And I'm pretty okay about it.

I squeeze the toothpaste bottle from the middle, (I cannot be stopped) and I love collecting interesting notebooks and wearing multiple layers and scarves, even mid summer.

What I know now, even more in my quest to my groove, is that wrapped up in my apparent quirkiness, eclectic-ness, and eccentricities, I am a bit retro. If only I had a record player.

And maybe I’ve been closer to my groove than I ever thought. 

Eating My Cake and Wanting the Bakery

Nelson Rutherford Beene Davis Hunter.

Right now he is outside my door mewing. It's pitiful. Being nocturnal, in the early am hours he turns into psycho kitten.  Normally, he spends his days and nights in the lower level of my house, and the stairway. However, my brother is sleeping on the couch, and has had little sleep since little Nelson used John's head as a scratch post.

I'll keep him in the stairway.  With his toys, food, light, etc…… And then the crying started. 

My Auntie, in the guest room, saw my face as I heard Nelson giving his pitiful cry. 

"He's fine. I know he's fine. But it's quite terrible." 

"Oh, let him up here. I'll keep him." 

Under the condition that she would vanquish him to the stairway if needed, I agreed, and shut my door. He was happy. For a minute. He had an extra room to explore. Then. Then he saw my closed door and the unhappy cry began.  

Here, I think we are offering a kindness, but he takes the extra, and he still wants more.

We are most certainly talking about Nelson. Not me. 

I do not stare longingly at things others want, coveting it for myself. Why would I? I have everything I could ever need. 

Or. Am I like the girl on the commercial, "We want more and more and more." 

Half of us watch this commercial laughing, all the while we nod in agreement knowing she's so right. 

I demand. "They" supply.

I personally have a problem because the things I want most, I cannot buy in a store. What do I do as a result? I buy anyways. Apparently I hope that I find something that fills the hole that otherwise is empty and aching. 

I buy. 

I often return. 

I buy again. 

I chase down *things,* stuff, items and trinkets to fill my space. 

I empty my pockets, crowd my home, and at the end of the day, have a heart that will still ache. 

It's Christmas time. The season of giving and rejoicing and remembering. Families gather. We eat. We play. We sing.   

Most of the time I am happy*. The true, honest, joyful happy. Most of the time I hold onto hope that I will one day find what I truly want.  (Husband to be claimed; aisle three. Adorable children for sale! Freckles included!) 

What do I do in the meantime? It's an honest question. One I've heard many others ask. Oftentimes the question isn't spoken out loud, but it's there. What do I do to fill the hole, the void, the want? 

We wait. 

We wait.

We look to hope. We cling to hope. 

In doing so, we remind ourselves, God reminds us, that we are not alone. 

That He has plans bigger than what we can imagine. 

We stop looking inward, and we start looking upward, and outward.

Tonight, I have challenged myself again to remember that while so many have so much, there are many who have so little. 

Eating the cake is usually quite nice. 

                   Wanting the whole bakery? I'd need a tailor. 

Send flowers to someone. 

Write a love note. 

Wash a car. 

Smile in Walmart. 

Say please and thank you. 

Be Thankful. 

Shine your Light.