Fountain of Delight Just $15.99. No Shipping or Handling!

I don't usually go for more than a week without blogging, but given the mood I was in recently, I did you a favor. I wasn't in my usual state of whining, but instead found myself afflicted with a rare case of "I want to start a fight." I felt like Pink in "So What, I'm Still a Rock Star." At least I didn't hit anyone. 

I'm not exactly sure what started my rebellion. There was some element of feeling unappreciated at work and a sense I was being critiqued by family members for my parenting skills. Then there was the inevitable post-invitation regret that results whenever I decide to have a party or host a holiday meal. I experienced a major mood swing when I thought I had sold our timeshare, only to have serious doubts that "Shengli from Canada" was/is going to come through with the check. And then there's the "home work" that cries out to you when spring rolls around and you venture into your yard. Not the least of these assignments is filling in the "gap" left by five "widow maker" trees that were removed between our yard and our neighbors. Even though we love them (our neighbors, not the widow makers), we don't want to have to "watch Pedro in his wife-beater working in the garage," as his wife so eloquently put it. So we'll just throw another couple thousand on top of the $6K (we split) to cut down the trees. And did I mention we need a new kitchen floor and counter tops and a dishwasher? Home ownership is awesome. First world problems, I know.

But I don't want to get into what caused my angry mood because ain't nobody got time for that. And Dad, that's not bad grammar on my part, it's from a video that most people are familiar with. Here's a link. (He called into question my job qualifications based on my use of that expression on Facebook.) 

The good news is that I have found a simple cure for what ails me, and likely what ails you as well. For only $15.99 and no shipping or handling fees, you too can rediscover a long lost sense of contentment, simple joy and satisfaction. And unlike wine, it won't affect your driving or decision making skills! If you order now, I'll throw in a sunny glow for your cheeks and a skip in your step! You may think that's the Easter chocolate talking, but in fact, my fountain of delight was in no way candy, wine or shopping related. Here's the key:

A day off from work for which you have nothing planned. No must-run errands. No appointment to get the car fixed. No power washing the house or planting grass seed. No doctor visits. Just a day off on which you ignore your to-do list. Oh, and this is important-- for maximum enjoyment, the kids should be in school.

One of the few benefits of working for a Christian organization is a holiday known as Easter Monday. Aside from the egg rolling race at the White House, this Monday after Easter (hence the name) doesn't translate into much in the United States, except in the state of North Dakota (?). But, according to timeanddate.com, "Many Christians around the world celebrate Easter Monday as a day of rest. It is a day for many to enjoy the time outdoors in countries such as Australia and Canada. It is known as Dyngus (great name), or Splash Monday, among many Polish communities where children often play water games." There's a Polish joke in there somewhere. 

When I read about this "day of rest," I thought, "What the hell. Let's go for it." So yesterday I slept in and then went out for breakfast with Rob. We happened upon a local spot where we were the only diners under the age of 70. There, we were amused by smart ass senior citizens, providing a glimpse at who we'll be in a very short number of years. The 90-year-old birthday boy, flirting with one of the 70-plus year old girls, told her that she was welcome in the restaurant "even though you're a Republican" (indeed a rarity in Swarthmore), to which she replied, "You can't discriminate against minorities." Birthday boy told us to come back some time when the dancing girls were performing. 

Breakfast was followed by a solid workout at the gym, which I effectively rendered useless with Chik Fil A nuggets and french fries for lunch (and coffee cake and Easter candy snacks later in the day). The best part of lunch was a last minute picnic in the park with Freakin Angels Kim and Cathie and their littlest ones Weston and Gemma. I gave thanks to God not only for the food and friendship, but for the fact that I don't have kids under the age of five anymore. Way too stressful having to actually watch them on the seesaw and the spinning thing and near the creek, etc. Dating, driving, academic pressures, social influences, etc. are a breeze compared to the monkey bars.

Glad I don't have to deal with this stuff anymore

While Easter Monday was indeed delightful, I have to admit that my transformation appropriately began on Good Friday. The church choir sang at the evening service which was a lovely blend of scripture and music and none of the theatrical nonsense we've been seeing lately that brought me to tears. Saturday was a fast-paced mix of three soccer games for Abby, a choir rehearsal for me, the finale of Scandal on the DVR (Olivia's dad is EVIL), and Easter brunch preparations, all followed by some time spent around the fire pit on a perfectly beautiful evening. On Easter Sunday, the choir sang at both the 8:15 and 11 a.m. services and had brunch in between, during which time I got to chat with our director, the wonderfully open, honest and real Lisa - just another in a long line of amazing MPC women who keep me coming to church during this difficult time of pastoral transition (which I have, with great difficulty, refrained from blogging about).

Easter brunch (#2) with my parents and Rob's family, was also very nice, and most importantly, I didn't run out of food. I enjoyed having my new friend Aimee (also from MPC) and her kids (ages 9 and 10) join us for the afternoon, and was so proud of my teenagers for playing tag and soccer and keeping them entertained. In fact, Ian and Abby just may be a major source of my emotional transformation over the past week. Simply put, they've been awesome. Willing to help (even Ian, to some degree), funny, kind, affectionate. I wonder what they want. 

I've gone on long enough, but if you remember anything from this rambling post, remember this: A day off from work, preferably one with sunshine and a to-do list that you ignore for a mere 8 hours, can do wonders for your mental health. And at only $15.99 (for breakfast and lunch), it's a deal that's just too good to pass up.

Great Expectations

Earlier this year I became aware of a tween and teenage issue affecting families in what I naively thought was my perfectly insulated and innocent community. It seems "sexting" hit close to home in the families of more than one personal friend. The shock and disappointment was profound and ultimately led to our church organizing a parents' night on the topic of teens and sexuality. And yes, if you know what my church has been going through, you're seeing some irony in this. But that's beside the point.

As my friends and I discussed this disturbing trend in teen behavior, someone mentioned having read about the affects of technology on a teen's desires and proclivities. She reported that the graphic and "advanced" nature of their early exposure to sexuality results in many teens needing "more" in the way of stimulation as they grow toward adulthood. The effects of peeking at Playboy magazine or reading a young adult romance pales in comparison to what our kids are finding online and sharing with one another on their cell phones.  

I'm finding this desire for "more" to be an ongoing theme in this world in which my children live. It may be a byproduct of living in a community where most families have what they need and then some, but it's disturbingly prevalent. No longer is a cell phone acceptable; a smart phone is required (and they still don't answer when you call). A vacation to Colorado is unappreciated because "we've been to that state before." A plain old birthday party at home doesn't suffice when everyone else does something way cooler and more expensive.

Sweet 16 parties and bar/bat mitzvahs are often examples of "more." In many cases, these rite of passage events resemble mini-proms or a wedding reception. I can't speak to the bar/bat mitzvahs of my day because I never attended one until recently, but I did turn 16 a couple nearly three decades ago and these grand affairs were not the norm. I find myself wondering what happened to the good old slumber party. But then again, it's probably safer to gather all of your kids friends in a supervised location where they're less likely to be drinking and photographing their private parts to text to a friend (who then sends it to his friend, and so on). I guess my biggest concern with these first class affairs is that they're setting our kids up for disappointment years from now. What if on their 21st, 30th, and 50th birthdays there's no one to throw them a lavish private party? How can your wedding reception top your bar/bat mitzvah when twenty years earlier it was the talk of the town? If you set the standard so high so early in their lives, can we exceed those expectations for the special moments later in life?

A couple years ago I heard stories of prom date invitations that both amused and concerned me. Boys were arranging elaborate scenarios in which to pop the question, "Will you go to prom with me?" Proposals were staged involving teachers and principals. Banners were hung on the bridge that links the middle and high schools. And a member of the track team recruited his friends to run in sequence wearing specially made t-shirts that read WILL - YOU - GO - TO - PROM, followed by Romeo wearing "WITH ME?" Awe! As in awesome, right? Absolutely. I would have loved to have been proposed to that way. Oops. That's what I was afraid of. To be on the receiving end of that level of sweetness and creativity as a high school senior only sets you up for disappointment when your adult boyfriend proposes marriage by leaning across the couch during a timeout in the football game and opening a little black box. And, he probably belched at some point in this transaction. Trust me, guys get lazy once you've been together awhile. You're rarely going to find romance delivered high school style. (Side note: Rob did not propose to me on the couch during a football game. It was a baseball game. No, but seriously, he proposed to me on the side of the road. It was more romantic than it sounds.)

Lest you think I'm presenting myself as above all this excess, I can assure you that I'm not immune to the temptation to fulfill my kids' desire for more. This Christmas we're heading to Mexico for the week. Unlike Colorado, Ian and Abby haven't been there yet, so they're looking forward to it. (Just hope we can get Abby a passport in time. Damn government shutdown.) And in lieu of a Sweet 16 party, a friend and I made our daughters a deal a year ago, promising them a trip to France instead, assuming they keep up their French studies. I'm sure the party would be much less expensive, but this way I get something out of it, too.

The reality is that many parents, myself included, want to give their children more than they had. Or they want to express their love and pride in their child, regardless of the cost. Sometimes, we go overboard trying to make up for the lack of time we spend together as a family. Our hearts are in the right place when we decide to go big for our kids, I just sometimes wonder whether our heads are in on it too.

Your thoughts?

Kindness, Affirmation, and Joy (Seriously)

Lately I've been hypersensitive. But in a good way. Suddenly I'm more acutely aware of the special people and moments in my life. It's almost a little creepy; like maybe I'm not long for this world and God is saying "Wake up and pay attention to the joy and kindness in the world before it's too late, dammit!" Well, maybe He doesn't say "dammit."

In case you're wondering if you're reading someone else's blog, I assure that this is the Freakin' Angel talking. I know you're not used to happy thoughts coming from me, but let's go with it. I'm sure next week I'll be my irritable and/or withdrawn self.

I think my wake up call came two Fridays ago. The same week I wrote my whiny, "I need to be shown appreciation" post. In what can only be described as another example of God's delight in messing with us, on this particular Friday, a number of kindnesses came my way. And, believe it or not, I started it.

Early that morning I exchanged emails with a Villanova professor whom I've only met once. He had reworked something I'd written for him, and my smart-ass self responded with :

I have to confess, for some reason I didn't expect engineers to be good writers, but here at VU I'm consistently proven wrong. If this engineering thing doesn't work out for you :-), you could always go into marketing or communications.

His response:

You are too kind, but thank you.  I'm the type that needs a pat on the back once in a while, so you made my day.

How awesome is that! It made my day knowing I'd made his day, and it certainly helped to know that I'm not alone in my slightly pathetic need for regular attention and recognition.

After that nice start to my Friday, a number of kindnesses came my way, all before noon:

• Freakin' Angel Kim G., knowing Ian was home sick again, offered to pick up ginger ale and saltines for him and delivered them to our door.
• In checking the mail I found a handwritten note from a fellow church member (no one I'm particularly close to) who wanted me to know she was thinking of me after learning of my aunt's leukemia diagnosis. 
• The dental hygienist said I was her best patient of the week and rewarded me with stickers and a lollipop a free teeth whitening sample. And I didn't even read anything into the teeth whitening gift. But you'd tell me if you thought my teeth were yellow, right? 

Last week's high note was a word of recognition from the Dean. He told me he'd heard from a couple others that I was doing a great job and that they liked my energy. He confirmed that they made the right decision in hiring me. Man, I needed that! Giddy like a school girl I responded with:

And then I called Rob to share the good news. You'd have thought I had just been promoted, I was so darn happy.

Now, just a few words about joy. The joy stuff came this past weekend and, oddly enough, involved my children. On Saturday, Abby celebrated her 12th birthday with a handful of friends who spent the night. Their constant laughter actually made me smile, where in the past it made me want to slap someone.  They watched Pitch Perfect and though I had found it to be only mildly amusing when I saw it in the theater, watching the movie with them suddenly made it hysterical. The whole evening was just a lovely testament to girlfriends and laughter and joy.

Sunday I attended the last performance of Grease at the high school (which they toned down quite a bit after complaints from some parents. I can't believe someone complained. Some people are such prudes.). Ian was able to participate this weekend, and watching him onstage, giving 110% to his role as a book nerd, gave me great pleasure. He was so obviously thrilled to be there, in his element (theater, not nerd-dom). After the show he looked exhausted, but in a beaming sort of way. It's immensely gratifying to see your child in a place he or she clearly belongs.

Oh, one more comment on the topic of affirmation. Even though most people don't go around crying about it like I do, I can't imagine there's anyone who doesn't appreciate recognition. Take, for instance, this recent interaction with a woman who's been cleaning my house for about a month. Last week I had left her a long list of improvements that needed to be made after I was displeased with her previous visit. I'm sure she cursed me, booby trapped my junk drawer, and stole from the cookie jar, but she did a great job based on my requests. On Friday night I texted her to say thanks and let her know how pleased I was. She actually picked up the phone and called me right back to say how much she appreciated my telling her and said she was going to share my message with her daughter who works with her.

All of this is not to show how wonderfully thoughtful I am (though I do have my moments), but rather to share the power of a kind word. In what can be a dreary, cold world (especially this miserable winter), your note of affirmation, your gift of kindness, and opening yourself to joy can provide just enough light to get you, and someone else, through another day.

Simple Pleasures

Technology and electronic gadgets are the bane of my existence. If I'm not fighting with Dell over my now officially dead laptop, or trying to figure out the case of the missing internet connection on the desktop, I'm bemoaning the countless dollars we've spent to have the latest "toys" for gaming, all of which are used by only one family member (though he does spend as much time on them as four people should). My irritation with high-tech toys recently got me thinking about simple pleasures, including:

• Crisp, clean bed sheets, ideally dried on the wash line outside
• A brand new box of 64 Crayola crayons
• Planting flowers
• Having new windshield wipers during a downpour
• A good book 
• Water draining from your ear after swimming
• An ice cold glass of milk with warm chocolate chip cookies

And then there's the incomparable pleasure of a nice hot shower and the comfort of your bed. Two memories from my childhood illustrate the powerful pull of the shower/sleep combination.

A DAY AT THE SHORE. When we were kids we would occasionally go to Long Beach Island just for the day. I don't remember that much from our time on the beach itself, but I will never forget the ride home. In a black 1972 Grand Prix Pontiac with vinyl seats. I'm pretty sure when you opened the doors of that monster, the internal temperature was about 210 degrees. And the seats were guaranteed to give you third degree burns. Best of all, you had three pounds of sand in the crotch of your bathing suit and a two hour drive home to look forward to. A shower and the comfort of your bed were all you dreamed about for those two very long hours.

The lasting impression of sand and heat are rivaled only by my memories of A NIGHT AT THE RACES. When we were kids, my dad worked for a guy whose son raced stock cars at Flemington Speedway in Flemington, New Jersey. On Saturday nights my parents would take my sister and me to the races where we would whine for concession foods and then eagerly wait for a crash to provide some element of excitement in which was an otherwise incredibly boring evening for two young girls.

The only other noteworthy element of our nights at the races was the dirt. Flemington Speedway had a dirt track from the day it opened in 1915 until being paved at the end of the 1990 season. By the time we left the track, well after our bedtime, we were coated in a fine layer of grit that also made its way into our eyes, ears, and nose. And then, because torture isn't complete without a long car ride, we would climb back into that '72 Pontiac for the 45 minute drive home, again craving nothing more than the comfort of our beds, but knowing a shower had to come first despite our complete exhaustion. To this day I use the expression "Night at the races tired," when trying to explain to Rob the degree of my sleepiness.

Showers, sleep, windshield wipers, milk, crayons, bed sheets, books, and flowers. These are a few of my favorite things (along with cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels). Simple pleasures. Your turn...