I value..

I value me for my creativity. I value me for my 'free-spirit'. I value me for being a good mother, and a good teacher. I value me for my ability to notice and appreciate the little things that fill the days of the world with beauty and joy.

That was what I wanted to say today.

I also came across this story. It had me in tears. I'm posting it, because I can't bear to just delete it. (I could put it in an email and send it to GoldenTear...hmmmm). (why is control-v "paste'?)

Dear FlyLady,

Yes, "Love Like There is No Tomorrow" DID hit home in a very painful,
heart-wrenching way. My 8 year old sweet angel daughter passed away
very suddenly on May 23, 2006. I thought she had a stomach bug during
the night. I sat up with her all night and first thing in the morning,
I made arrangements to bring her to her grandfather' s while I went to
work for half a day.

I know for a fact that her last memory of me was me screaming and
yelling for her to find her shoes (wherever they were in the mess) and
get them on. Fifteen minutes later, I was giving her CPR and mouth to
mouth, trying to save her while waiting for the paramedics.

I have spent literally years screaming at my 4 children to "clean"
their messes, when I couldn't even seem to get my own messes cleaned
up. My house was so cluttered that the police officer who answered
the call took pictures and turned me into child welfare. Within 24
hours, social workers were interviewing my other children and family
members to determine if my home was "SAFE" for my 12 yr old DD to stay
with me.

The time from the day my daughter passed to the day after her funeral
was hell in more ways than one. Not only did I have to deal with
losing my heart and soul so unexpectedly, but we (my older sons
and family members) also had to get my home in order so my other
daughter would be allowed to come home. Instead of us grieving
together, we were separated (she stayed with her father, who enjoyed
every bit of this "twist"of events).

Well, I have been babystepping and "falling off the wagon" for
a few years now and this has been the ultimate wakeup call. My sweet,
beautiful baby girl died in the mess that I was too overwhelmed to do
anything about - yet I yelled and expected her and her siblings to be
able to "clean" their own messes. What a hypocrite I realized I've been.

Incidentally, my daughter died of a strangulated small intestine,
which I have been told is almost always fatal and rather rare. Clean
house or not, I would have lost her anyway; but in uncluttered
surroundings, I would not have yelled (out of helplessness, because I
knew she couldn't find the shoes, I knew I was late for work and I
didn't even know where to look for the shoes). My baby used her last
breaths to get up the stairs to do what she was told to do.

I want you to know, however, how much I love my baby. We had regular
tea parties together and spent countless hours reading, praying and
just being together. She loved like no child I have ever known.

She made up song and dance routines and entertained the family
regularly. I always justified the clutter with "we'll have fun now and
I'll take care of the clutter tomorrow." My sweet angel told me just
a few weeks before she died that she wasn't afraid to die, because she
knew that she would meet Jesus and she loved Him. She had also told
her older sister that Jesus held her in His arms while she slept so
she wouldn't have bad dreams. I know she is in His arms now and will
never have a bad dream again. I am the one living the nightmare of
what clutter created - my sweet angel hearing my angry words, instead
of me LOVING her like the tomorrow that will never come.

Thank you for listening. I am trying each day to go on and to clear
the clutter. I pray no one ever hasmto go thru the pain and
humiliation that we have endured in the past 2 months. My 12 yr old
DD is home with me and my "case" has been deemed "unfounded" because
they determined that I am a loving mother who got sidetracked with
depression and too much "stuff."

If I hadn't read about you several years ago in a magazine, I'm sure
things would have been much more difficult. God be with you.

Peace,
Cathi in NY

The spider is rebuilding

Or, at least she was rebuilding yesterday evening. We had a bit of rain overnight, and I haven't gone outside to see how her web faired through the storm. I looked through my kitchen window, but couldn't see her web from that angle, invisible as the strands are.

This bit is from another Flylady email. The questions, therefore, are not mine... but it resonated with me. Several years ago, I went through some counseling for depression (a combination of S.A.D and a major new direction in my life). One of the questions asked of me, and one that I've really never fully answered for myself is... Where do you get your sense of value? I have a nice 'textbook' answer I could give for that, but not an answer from my heart and soul.

Here were Flyladies questions. I might get around to writing a bit about them later. (Or at least, writing about the relevant ones).

1. Do I value myself on my job?

2. Do I value myself because of my husband's job?

3. Do I place value on myself because of my children's jobs?

4. Do I value myself on how I look?

5. Do I value myself on how I act?

6. Do I value myself on my clothes?

7. Do I value myself on my portfolio?

8. Do I value myself on how much I saved when I shopped?

9. Do I value myself on how much I can spend?

10. Do I value myself on how much I earn?

11. Do I value myself on how much more I earn than my spouse?

12. Do I value myself on my church work?

13. Do I value myself on other volunteer jobs?

14. Do I value myself on how my house looks?

15. Do I value myself on what kind of car I drive?

16. Do I value myself on what kind of house I live in?

17. Do I value myself on where I live?

18. Do I value myself on how I purchased my furniture?

19. Do I value myself on good grades in school?

20. Do I value myself by my friends?

21. Do I value myself on my hair?

22. Do I value myself on my nails?

23. Do I value myself on how well I do one thing, Motherhood?

24. Do I value myself on how well I do a sport?

25. Do I value myself on how much weight I have lost?

26. Do I value myself on how punctual I am?

27. Do I value myself on how I manage my time?

The wind made quite a stir.

There are many wonderful reasons we homeschool. There are many practical reasons we homeschool. But right now, I just want to rejoice in the fact that my primary job on this sunny fall day is to sit in a lawnswing on Sweetling's swingset with her and read, discusss, and create poetry together.

The wind made quite a stir
Kicking yellow brown leaves before it
Skipping through the tree tops
Flinging fall down on us.

In other news, an industrious spider had fashioned the most amazing web in our front yard. The web starts from the tip of the evergreen branch about four and half feet above the ground. It ran another five to six feet diagonally to attach to the tops of the daisy plants. It dropped to the grass in the middle as its third anchor point. And it filled the space with lace.

We noticed it on Sunday morning as we were leaving for church, pulling out of the driveway and the light caught on its strands. The other night, the Jedi mowed the lawn, and he very carefully did not mow the section between the evergreen and the daisies. The web has stood until today.

Today, Sweetling and I returned home from W.O.W. (Women on Wednesday...its my discussion and prayer group. Check out the book we're reading.) There was a single yellow leaf trapped in the web. Sweetling and I discussed why the spider would not be interested in the leaf as food (not even if it mistaked it for a katydid), and went inside. Later this afternoon, I noticed, and called Sweetling out to see, the spider had cut down her web, all but the first long diagonal from the tree to the daisies. I rather wish I had been able to watch her do that.

Sweetling and I discussed whether the spider might rebuild or move on. I hope she rebuilds.

Psalms

HoneyBee didn't get the job she had been applying for. She took the news rather well. Certainly better than I'm taking the news. I'm just crushed. I was thinking about her a lot yesterday, about how much she's had to overcome, and about the wounds those circumstances had left behind. She needs much better options than what she has opened to her right now.

My Bible reading today was "Psalms of a People in Exile". It matched my mood.

We are brought down to the dust;
our bodies cling to the ground.
Rise up and help us;
redeem us because of your unfailing love.

Have regard for your covenant,
because haunts of vilence fill the dark places of the land.
Do not let the oppressed retreat in disgrace;
ma the poor and needy praise your name.

Restore us, O God;
make your face shine upon us,
that we may be saved.

HoneyBee says she's going to go put in applications for a second job. She can't make ends meet on the income she has right now. I don't even want to know what her shortfall is each month. Money just needs to fall from the sky sometimes. This is one of those times. Not a lot of money. Just enough.

Two hours left in my afternoon. Sweetling is working from her assignment notebook right now. Then we need to do music. Then, I think I need to take a garbage bag, and a give away bag, and start getting rid of the many many objects that are not going back into the kitchen.

The kitchen is repainted now. I really, really, really love the colors :) If I knew how to post a link to the colors, I would. Maybe later i'll do some searches on it. The Jedi hates the colors, but is willing to put up with them because they make me happy. The Jedi likes calm, quiet, soothing colors. I like vibrant, bright, happy colors. The kitchen is definately vibrant, bright, and happy. The Jedi has labeled the colors as "Romper Room".

The Jedi also spent most of the evening, and late into the night laying on his back, half in, mostly out, under the kitchen sink replacing a faucet. After that he replaced electrical outlets and their plates to coordinate with the new colors he hates. I should maybe spend some of my afternoon making a batch of snickerdoodles in the new kitchen that I love.

More quotes from FLYLADY

I had been copying and pasting a few flylady quotes into their own wp file...which I'll never read, but that at least gave me permission to DELETE the email.

Now I think I'll copy and paste them here...where they might be read.

What actually prompted me to write you today was the fact that I got
up this morning with my alarm. I've been apathetic in the morning,
and it takes away a lot of time from my day. I'm a SAHM, and I have
been sleeping in until a child wakes up. Each morning I set my alarm
for a time about 45 minutes before they usually wake, but when the
time came, I didn't want the comfort of the warm bed to end, so I
would turn off the alarm. I even told myself that I didn't want my
day to be any longer, which is a pretty sad thought, now that I think
about it. I've done this off and on for months, not even bothering
with the alarm some weeks.

Last night I told myself that I would try again, because you wouldn't
want me to give up. I told myself over and over as I drifted off to
sleep "no warmth of bed could compare to peace of mind". I was
thinking about the peace of mind I would get by doing some of my work
finished before the kids woke up. When the alarm went off this
morning I heard those words in my mind, and got up.

And of course, this one is relevent because I stay in bed till the last possible moment in the mornings. I like her little mantra.

And the self-critical voice says, "Why do you 'waste' so much time reading about what you should be doing, when you should be busy doing so many things?" This is why.

A BLOG is for....

Bear says the blog is for me, and I should write what I want to write in it. I haven't decided yet if he is right. The truth is, the things that I write that are JUST for me, I write by hand in a notebook or journal. No one else gets to see them. I think that by nature of putting my thoughts on the web, making them public for friends and family... they are no longer the thoughts that are just for me. They are the thoughts that I want to share.

But I liked Bear's comment, because it got me thinking.

Why do I want a Blog? Mostly, because I enjoy other people's Blog's. And you know, most things I enjoy, I want to try for myself. But the difficulty in this approach is...the thing I enjoy most about other people's Blogs is the humor. (specially Maven's). Yet the appeal of being a Maven wanna-be isn't a sustaining appeal. Not a motivating one certainly. (Plus, sometimes being defeated at the grocery store was depressing enough when it happened. Likewise, wondering around the house with a crockpot full of potato soup looking for an outlet ...yes potato soup... because every single flat surface is covered either in plastic or clutter that was relocated from the kitchen might have some entertainment value, but again, doesn't make a high enough priority to motivate me to blog. Or isn't motivation enough for me to prioritize blogging. Take your pick.)

And I knew right away what I didn't want my blog to be. I didn't want it to become a diary of the wonderful things Sweetling did that day. Not that Sweetling doesn't do wonderful things, she does. But I wanted my Blog to be more about me.

So what do I want my blog to be?

I still don't know exactly, but...

I was talking with HoneyBee last night. She wants to work on improving her writing so she can write better papers, in less time, and with less frustration, for school. My advice to her was...the first step she needed to take was to give herself permission to write. Her own internal criticism is so loud and so strong and so everpresent, it drowns out her 'voice' and is the foremost obsticle to getting any of her thoughts on paper. Just overcoming that voice, or ignoring it long enough, to scratch out a few words is such an intense battle it leaves her exhausted and frustrated and unable to actually focus on what she's writing. All of her energy and reserves goes into try to fight her way past the negative voices and she has little left to put into her writing.

Sometimes too, I told her, we get so caught up in the process of what we WANT something to be, so caught up in its ideal...that we don't give ourselves permission to enjoy what is. We never give ourselves permission to simply do something for the sake of doing it, because we are stymied by thinking if we can't do it the "right" way...we shouldn't do it at all. Or we should keep "planning" it and working at it till its perfect. It will never be perfect, so it will never be "completed" and we wind up feeling defeated and depressed over something that could have been uplifting and energizing.

In short, I decided to take a dose of my own medicine. To quit worrying about what my ideal blog might look like, to stop fretting over what I wanted it to be....and just give myself permission to write.

I'm leaving with a short, sad vigniette. This is written in a FlyLady email by a woman who was helping her sister clean and declutter her home. I identified with the sister in the cluttered home.

I went up a few weeks ago to help her organize and watch my dear
nephews. I tried to help her fling out things and I think she was able
to dispose of a bit, but one of the things she refused to part with
was a plastic doll's head from her childhood. The image of her
clutching that doll's head is so impressed on my mind. I ache for her,
and it helped me understand for the first time this monster you call
Clutter. He has her clinging to a broken piece of the past, while all
around her runs her future. But Clutter keeps throwing all her stuff
in her face. "Why haven't you found this doll a new body yet? I
thought you loved her and your dead mom who gave her to you. You are
such a failure."

Isn't it a pity that we can't go in and kill Clutter for the people we
love? But he wouldn't really be dead, would he? He'd still be in their
minds. That's where I fight him most, in my cluttered thoughts.

So, maybe I'm Blogging today, because having started a blog...I couldn't seem to move past just one entry. That single entry stared at me like the broken dolls head. I either needed to toss it, or find a body for it.

I'm finding a body for it.