Good Intentions

If all my good intentions were dollars, I would be living on an exclusive island sunning myself on a beach, eating mangos and sipping virgin margaritas.  I wake up with so many intentions of things to do to improve myself, help others, and to just make my life easier.  By the time I go to bed at night, those good intentions are sitting in the back of my mind, eating away at me because I didn't do one of them.

I'm still overweight, eating sugar and drinking soda.  I'm still not exercising.  So many thinking-of-you notes that I've been going to write sit blank in my basket waiting for the ink to hit the page.  I didn't get that phone call made.  My fingernails are still unpainted.  I didn't get that book read yet.  My bathroom floor still has hair on it.  There are still dishes in my sink and dust on my ceiling fans. I am still impatient.  And my blog has only three entries since it's inception.

It's not like I'm sitting around eating bon-bons and doing nothing all day.  There's just not enough time or energy to become the wonderful person I want to be.  So here's my latest good intention:  I'm going to be grateful for whatever I get done today and know that I can try again tomorrow.  In the meantime, I intend to figure out a way to turn those intentions into dollars.

Celebrating Mother's Day

I watch the commercials on TV about all the wonderful gifts that you should give your mom for Mother's Day and it makes me uneasy for lots of reasons. 

I remember giving my mom some homemade trinket we made in school as a gift for Mother's Day.  My dad usually got her some type of useful appliance.  She got her geranium at church later that day.  That was it.  When I got older, and we weren't able to have children, I hated Mother's Day.  I didn't want the stupid flower at church that they insisted on giving to everyone and I eventually stopped going to church on Mother's Day.  It was just too painful.

Finally, I was blessed to become a mother.  Now I could go to church and accept my flower because I was a mother.  Only, it didn't really feel any different.  My gift was my baby.  I didn't really want anything else.  I loved being a mother and finally having that blessing in my life.

As my kids got older, that's when the guilt set in.  I would sit in church and listen to talks about the perfect mother, and I was so far away from that.  I would sink in my seat as I listened to a talk from someone who bragged about a mother that never yelled at them or never raised her voice in anger.  She loved to do crafts and kept a perfect house.  If that is a perfect mother, that certainly wasn't me.  Then I would dutifully stand and accept my flower and go home depressed about my short comings.

Being a mother is HARD work.  I make mistakes all the time.  So many things I wish I could do over again.  So many things I wish I could take back.  But it's also a very rewarding and fulfilling thing to me.  If I'm going to take responsibility for their failures, I should accept congratulations for their successes as well.  In spite of it all, my kids are turning out OK so far. 

I don't need an expensive pieces of jewelry, a massage, or a spa treatment to thank me.  I get my thanks from a hug, a word of appreciation, or a sweet conversation (and from doing something without being asked.)  I feel uncomfortable getting gifts for doing something I love to do.  So this Mother's Day, I'm hoping for kids that won't fight, and an enjoyable day with my family.  What better gift could I possibly get?

Ordinary and Routine

I've tried to write a blog several times, but could never get past the formatting.  It's taken several days and some encouragement and inspiration from my friends, but here I go.


Sometimes I get so caught up in the mundane routine of everyday living that I don't recognize the value my mundane, routine life has.  "How interesting is it to write about cooking, cleaning and errands anyway?" I ask myself.  Other people have such interesting and exciting lives, at least from my perspective of the outside looking in.  But then I realize that those ordinary, routine things I do each day mean a lot to my family. 


For example, I take a lot of pleasure in doing Jenn's hair everyday.  She's perfectly capable of doing it herself, but I enjoy the time we spend together chatting about her adventurous life and it gives me great insight into this remarkable little girl who is rapidly becoming a young woman. 


Brandon loves contests and he entered one at school where he had to make a movie in Windows Movie Maker for his CTE class.  He directed me to take pictures of him doing very specific things.  He knew exactly what he wanted.  When I saw the finished product, it was amazing.  He did such a great job.  My only contribution was taking the pictures, but it helped him succeed.  That's not so ordinary after all.


Just doing seemingly routine things like cooking dinner every night for the family is worthwhile.  It gives us the opportunity to eat together and talk about our day.  And it's usually pretty tasty too.


So the lesson for me here is that parts of my life may be ordinary and routine, but it's also necessary and important.  I'm doing more than just routine chores, I'm strengthening my family. And after all, that's not an ordinary thing.