Grace Kennedy Nonprofit Writer
  • Home
  • Services
    • Writing
    • Editing/Proofreading
    • Newsletters
  • Portfolio
  • Contact
  • Blog

Janky home school day 2: the jank hits the fan

3/17/2020

2 Comments

 
Picture
Here's the thing about "this is a time to slow down and enjoy the gift of time with family and letting go of our schedules and our need to be productive:" It's painful. There, I said it. I know our old way of doing things was neurotic and toxic and isolating...but letting go of that is painful. I was attached to it. 

Today I felt the pain. Today I had to stop everything and grab my seven-year-old and lay on the couch for awhile, surrounded by dirty dishes and Chromebooks and dog hair. Today was, in a word, janky. 

I'm letting you in on this mess because I have a sneaking suspicion I am not the only one struggling today. Maybe I'm not the only one who scrolled past pictures of moms who were resourceful and energetic enough to actually acknowledge that today was St. Patrick's Day. Maybe I'm not the only one who compared herself to those moms and felt like a failure. Maybe I'm not the only mom who wondered where everyone else found the energy to deal with this thing that's actually turning out to be pretty impossible. 

If you are one of those moms, please hear me when I say that you are not alone, and you are doing just fine. This is the part where we wrestle, struggle, and feel generally miserable. Maybe that means the other side of this is closer than it was yesterday. 

I'll probably write more tomorrow but for now I am signing off with an elbow bump and a wish for strength and a spark of whatever it is you need to get through tomorrow. 
2 Comments

janky home school day one: everything is copy

3/16/2020

4 Comments

 
Picture
Today was the first day of this...thing...that we are doing now. I needed to come up with a name for it, and here were my first two ideas:
March Madness - because we don't get actual March Madness, and this situation right now is legit madness. But the words made me anxious, so I didn't go with this choice.
Spring Sabbatical - Because a sabbatical seems like something that only fancy people do. (Side note: I tried to explain the meaning of a sabbatical to my nine-year-old boy this morning, and I made the mistake of using the example of a college professor taking a semester off to go to Iceland to study volcanoes. So now if you ask my son what a sabbatical is, he will tell you it's when a college professor goes to Iceland to study volcanoes.)

Anyhoo, I nixed Spring Sabbatical in favor of a more realistic description of this...thing...that we are all doing now, which is:

Janky Home School

Shall we begin? Today was day one of Janky Home School, in which I introduced the schedule that I swore I wouldn't make because schedules turn into straight jackets when my rule-following little hands get hold of them. But I caved and made a schedule late last night because I needed a security blanket, and mommies get schedules instead of security blankets. (Although I do have a security blanket that I keep in a desk cabinet and wear all day when I'm writing. No big deal, let's move on.)
I separately showed each kid the schedule and they each independently found it personally offensive that they would be expected to take a shower EVERY DAY. Other than that, they were cool with the schedule after their customary 9,536 questions about anything that involves them, ever. I just noticed that this schedule has just as much screen time as it does learning time. OH WELL. Life be janky.
Picture
Since we hadn't picked up our packets from their teachers yet, the kids got to pick what they wanted to do for learning time. Will chose to teach Emily division with remainders, and Emily was all about it. Better him than me. My earliest memory of crying about math (not my only memory of crying about math. My earliest memory of crying about math) had to do with division.
Picture
The rest of the day flowed along well, and we got a chance to pick up packets from their teachers, which was swell because the kids had no less than 5,765 questions about what would be in the packets, and it was a relief to be able to answer at least 4,567 of them. Seeing their teachers and their school was like another security blanket. Everything feels weird right now but their teachers are still THE BEST EVER and their school is still the sweet, old, stable, friendly place it's always been. Also, it smelled really clean, for the record.

After we got our packets we dropped off eight bags at Bags of Hope, a local nonprofit that supplies free food provisions to students experiencing food insecurity. Not because I am such a philanthropist, but because Emily's Girl Scout troop put together enough bags to feed eight children for a week, and I volunteered to keep the bags in my trunk, which turned into me driving a lot of food around to a lot of places without having my act together enough to figure out where and when and how to drop them off.

I finally had time, so we did it today, which worked out nicely because the kids got to be involved, and because these bags were supposed to be for Spring Break, which doesn't seem to be a thing right now, so we were happy to do one small thing to help children who rely on our school cafeteria (you know, the one that's closed indefinitely?) for meals.

Picture
After the Community Service portion of Janky Home School, it was time for Physical Education, also known as Dog Needs to Poop. We took a walk on a local trail and it was gloriously refreshing and beautiful, even with the gray mid-50s weather. We brought some friends and I was reminded that no matter what is going on, kids always find a way to have fun with sticks and dirt and water. It made my heart happy, if you want to get all schmaltzy about it.
Picture
This would be a good time to remind you (and me) that I have a job. I tried to squeeze in priorities whenever I could but I really have to figure out a better way to get work done while my kids are out of school. I am definitely the first and only person to have this problem. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

For dinner I made Change Your Life Chicken because The Lazy Genius is my life coach who doesn't know it yet. Emily in particular is a big fan of this dish because she likes the crispy chicken skin. However, I am not a big fan of the questions she asked at dinner, which included:
Is this chicken skin I'm eating?
Is this what human skin would taste like?
Are humans edible?


It's probably best if we move on now.

When Nora Ephron was growing up, her mother constantly told her that everything is copy. I take this to mean that everything will make a great story someday, even if it feels uncomfortable, or sad, or uncertain, or frightening. As someone who likes to have a schedule and a blueprint, I am not feeling particularly warm and fuzzy these days. But I am writing it all down, and I am looking around and noticing how my kids are taking all this upheaval and uncertainty like champions, and how my friends and neighbors are cheering each other on, and how strangers are offering free resources and support to each other.

It may be a janky home school, but it will make a great story some day.
4 Comments

Field of the Occasional Dream

9/17/2019

0 Comments

 
Picture
​There we were, sitting in those foldable chairs that sports parents lug everywhere so they don't have to deal with the torture of bleachers. The hum of the lights filled our ears as the sun went down on a sticky Tuesday night. 
 
This fall my son is playing "kid pitch" baseball for the first time. If you've never experienced it, all you need to know is that the innings are long. What's the word for longer than long? Interminable? 
 
On this particular Tuesday night, our team's pitcher had a no-hitter going, but the other team still had five runs. We're talking walks, people. Five runs worth of walks. Batters routinely get hit by the ball in kid pitch. So do umpires and catchers. It's rough, guys. 
 
This is what learning looks like. People get bruises. Parents get numb bums from sitting in their foldable chairs through interminable innings. Their hearts get tugged violently along on the tilt-a-whirl of watching their loved ones strike out every time they come to the plate. 
 
Growth is a messy, long, bruising affair. It involves nine-year-old kids standing alone on the mound in front of their friends and family and giving it a shot. Risking failure in front of an audience. But also risking greatness. To get one you've got to risk both. 
 
It was time for our son to bat for the second time that game. His first at bat ended at strike three. I'm one of those parents who "just wants the kids to have fun." But as I watched my boy at the plate, I had to remind myself to breathe. 
 
We've been rooting for this kid so hard, for so long. He's one of the smallest kids on this team, and it's been awhile since he played the sport. He's also not a "natural." He practices almost every day with his dad. He goes out before the sun comes up, before breakfast on a school day, to get his practice swings in. 
 
He's never had a hit. Pitch after pitch, we remind ourselves to breathe, and we root for a hit with everything we've got. Pitch after pitch, he swings and misses. 
 
Except for this pitch. This pitch, on this Tuesday night, makes contact with the bat. I jump out of my foldable chair. It's a hard line drive down the third base line. My son makes it to first base easily. Everyone is cheering, even his little sister who has been reading Highlights Magazine the whole time. 
 
The euphoria is all-consuming. Like the breeze from a dusty baseball careening down the third base line, it blows away all the sitting, waiting, pitches and strikes that led up to this moment. 

This is growth. Whether it's a kid pitch game or a freelancer starting from scratch, you can't get the glory without the slog. Pitch after pitch, until you get that hit. 
 
Progress comes down to showing up at the plate, giving it a shot, and practicing on your down time. You may get bruised, you may fail many times, and you may get bored. But one day you'll get that hit, and it will cancel out everything else. 
 
The glory is fleeting, but it's addictive. Once you feel it, you'll want more. On the drive home from that baseball game, my son said he couldn't wait for his next game. He also said he wants to play in the spring. I might invest in a cushion for my foldable chair.  
 
​

This video is blurry (technology) and jumpy (Tom's excitement) but the audio tells you everything you need to know about the glory of the hit. 
0 Comments

On Setting Intentions

8/28/2019

0 Comments

 
Picture
"Intentions are a way to get your heart in the right place." - Laura Tremaine
For me, the idea of setting an intention is like Brexit. I don't really have a grasp on what it is, but I feel like I should, and I feel like everyone else does. 
 
When the yoga instructor tells me to "set my intention" for the class, I honestly have no idea what she means. I know what a goal is. I know what a task is. I know what a wish is. I super do not know what an intention is.   
 
Cut to yesterday, when I discovered 10 Things To Tell You,  a podcast recommended by my new life coach (who's never met me and doesn't realize she's my life coach) Kendra Adachi of The Lazy Genius .
 
The first episode I listened to is called What are your intentions? In 17 minutes, host Laura Tremaine takes intentions from cloudy concept to useful tool. She describes setting an intention as "a way to get your heart in the right place." She also talks about how she sets her intention for the day during her morning routine, before events, and together with her family.
 
Laura's words inspired me to finally tackle the idea of intentions, and I came up with the Intention Chunk. (I love the word chunk. It reminds me of peanut butter and chocolate.) Instead of setting an overall intention for something big, I break my day into chunks, and I set an intention for each chunk right before it happens. 
 
What does this look like in my day? When I sat down at my desk yesterday, I set the intention to spend 30 minutes submitting an article that was due. Then I spent 30 minutes sending some article pitches. Then I spent 30 minutes clearing out my inbox. Before each chunk, I set the intention. I said it out loud. Because I work alone and talk to myself a lot. Like...a lot. 
 
When I was heading to the bus stop, I set the intention to simply be there for my kids. It was the second day of school and I was prepared for an emotional rollercoaster fueled by hunger and exhaustion. I set the intention to summon my patience, try to stay silly, and not look at my phone for the next few hours.  (I totally failed at the phone one but I'm about to get another chance. Wish me luck.)
 
I will probably never be able to wrap my head around setting an intention for an entire day. My brain doesn't work that way. But intention chunks pretty much transformed my day and I'm excited to keep working with the concept. 
 
One question for you:
Have you ever set an intention in a yoga class? If so can you share what it was?
Bonus question:
Can you blogsplain Brexit to me?
 
One thing to make your day better:
Check out 10 Things To Tell You and The Lazy Genius next time you're looking for a short and efficient podcast. OK this is actually two things. Choose one or both. (BOTH? BOTH!)
0 Comments

january book report: how to be a happier parent

1/19/2019

1 Comment

 
Picture
Me, taking my book report very seriously in 1987.
When I was a kid, I loved book reports. Reading a book and getting to tell someone all about it was my jam. So that's why my goal for 2019 is to read one book a month and tell you all about it. I hope my nerdosity helps you find a great book to read, or simply take something useful away from one of my posts.  
Picture
​I knew something had to change when my six-year-old told me she didn't want to be a mommy "because it looks like too much work."
 
When I heard about How to Be a Happier Parent by KJ Dell'Antonia, the former editor of the New York Times Motherlode blog, I was like, "Yes, please!" 
 
It's not that I'm an unhappy parent. I love being a mom. It's just that there's so much of it all the time. If I don't occasionally take a step back, I find myself doing more nagging than hugging, and I reach the end of the day wondering where the joy went. And according to my daughter's comment, I don't get to have grandchildren unless I can make motherhood look a bit more joyful. 
 
I generally avoid reading parenting books, and when I do read them, I take them with a healthy dose of skepticism. I once read a book that said I should repeat all my toddler's words back to him like a caveman. And then there's the sleep chapter in What to Expect the First Year, which will make you want to set the book on fire and throw it in front of a speeding UPS truck. 
 
How to Be a Happier Parent was the most helpful, empathetic, and accessible parenting book I have ever read. 
 
Why? Two reasons. 
 
First, her content and delivery are phenomenal. This is not a researcher talking about lab rats. This is a real mom in the real world.  She comes from a compassionate, nonjudgmental place. And she's one of those skilled writers who makes it look easy.
 
Her examples are self-deprecating and authentic. Example: "This morning two of my children argued for ten minutes over whether their school was closed for Rosh Hashanah in 2015." My children tend to fight over pieces of garbage they find in the backseat, but I still relate to this example and love her for sharing it.
 
Second, she gets us. Rather than hitting us over the head with statistics and impossibly complex action items, she gives us the problem and follows it with a handful of solutions. Then we get to pick the solution that works best for us. 
 
KJ starts the book by giving us Ten Mantras for Happier Parents. I LOVE THESE SO MUCH I have to share them with you:
 
1. What you want now isn't always what you want later
Taking the easy way out now means your kids won't have the stuff they need to be functional or happy adults. (i.e. Make them put their own dishes in the dishwasher.)
 
2. There is nothing wrong
"Fundamentally, nearly always, things are still okay." Even when you're surrounded by squabbles, unfolded laundry, and that damn norovirus. 
 
3. People, including children - especially children - change
Let your kids change and grow; don't assume they will stay lazy, messy, stubborn, picky, obsessed with hornets (that last one might be particular to my child).
 
4. You don't have to go in there
This is my favorite. This is life-changing: I don't have to be infected by my family's moods. I can just...not go in there. 
 
5. If you see something, don't always say something
This is another big one for me. I don't have to intervene in every squabble or make a thing out of every single item left on the floor. 
 
6. You do you
I know my limits and I know what will work for my family. Some people are campers. We are not. Some people take pictures of their babies with adorable signs announcing how many months old they are. I was lucky if I even knew how many months old my second baby was. And that's OK. I don't have to be exactly as energetic, productive, and sociable as the most energetic, productive, or sociable mom in my Instagram feed. I gotta be me. 
 
7. You can be happy when your children aren't
"Sympathy and empathy don't have to mean that our worlds come crashing down around us when that's how it feels to our kids." In fact, it's way better for our children when we can stay calm in the midst of their perceived crises.
 
8. Decide what to do, then do it
As a mom, I don't have to make that many decisions. Just about two million per day. It helps to remember that most of these decisions are not life-altering. Just decide, then stick to it, and move on to the next decision, which will be coming up in one and a half seconds. 
 
9. You don't have to get it right every time
It's the intention and the effort that matter. "You will bring the wrong child to the dentist, you will buy dinner from a vending machine, and you will realize that there isn't always a "right" choice anyway."
 
10. Soak up the good
Our brains want to remember the negative, in order to protect us in the future. But we don't have mammoths lurking outside our cave doors anymore, so we have to train our brains to soak up the good. 
 
I try to ask myself, "What is good in this situation?" when I need a mental reset. And there's always an answer to this question. Except during homework time. Homework time can suck it. 
 
Speaking of homework, that's one of the issues KJ delves into later in the book. My next post will cover her tips for being a happier parents while dealing with things like homework, sibling squabbles,  screen time, discipline, and meal time.

Please share which mantra blew your mind the most!
1 Comment

Three Ways to Un-Grinch a Grinch

12/21/2018

1 Comment

 
Picture
I knew I had a problem when I took my kids to see The Grinch and it was like looking in a mirror. I recognized myself in his anti-Christmas antics. I related to his desire to just be left alone in his (awesome, in my opinion) cave lair. I sunk down in my movie seat when he freaked out about having to go to the grocery store the week before Christmas because it would be too crowded. I've done that. A lot.
 
I don't tolerate the retail experience well under the best circumstances. I'm such a grumpy bugger that I don't even go to Target or Walmart...like, ever. So when December rolls around, and all the fair-weather Trader Joe's shoppers turn my happy place into amateur hour, and all the parking spots vanish, I get crabby and kind of stay that way for the rest of the year.
 
Couple this with the other rituals of December, and my patience bucket empties out right quick. The Sign Up Genius emails bombard my inbox with their baked good demands, the germ parade starts marching around the neighborhood school, the days get shorter while my list of obligations gets longer, and I turn from Grinchy to Grinchier.  
 
For me, December represents too much of everything. I long for the clean slate of January, when there's nothing to do except make goals and schedules and all that nerdy stuff that I like. Everyone goes back into their own lane, puts their heads down, and carries on.
 
So...yeah. I'm super fun to be around in December. Just ask my family.
 
Which brings up the number one (and only) reason I try, every year, to figure out a way to find the joy in the chaos: my family. Every year, I approach the holiday season determined to mitigate the struggle just a little more than last year. I make an honest effort to find a way to be a smidge more pleasant for the people who have to put up with me.
 
In 2016 I actually typed up and printed out a list called Things I Learned in December and pinned it to the December page of my 2017 calendar. The first item on that list? Don't be Class Mom. I'm in my kids' classrooms at least once a week. I put my name on every Sign Up Genius that comes my way. I try to help wherever I can. I have been Class Mom at least three times, and my oldest is only in second grade. But I know myself well enough to admit that being Class Mom during the holidays makes me less enjoyable to be around, and that's not fair to my People. So it's a Christmas Don't.
Picture
I use this countertop as a barometer for how bananas my life is. Yep, must be December.
Want to know what else is on my list? I doubt any of you are as Grinchy as me, but I hope some of these things are helpful. I know I'm not the only one who struggles during this time of year.
 
1. Practice Saying No
This year marked the first time I ever put my name on a Sign Up Genius and then...didn't bring the thing I signed up for. It was a batch of baked goods for the service club my kids belong to. They were singing at the local police department. I love our local police. I love the fact that my kids got to sing Christmas carols for them. And I love all the other moms for bringing their homemade treats, because it made my lack of participation inconspicuous. You have to pick and choose what you bow out of, but I highly recommend you practice bowing out when it's harmless.
 
Homework: Look at these five research-based ways to say no during the holidays. They're practical and doable, even for all of us people pleasers. Pick one and use it before December 31.
 
2. Choose a Motto
Did I mention how much I hate winter weather? And I live in North Carolina. I have no right to complain. But here I am complaining. I won't run outside if it's colder than 45 degrees. But I also have to run or else I will get so irritable that my family will make me find a new house to live in. So, I've been using the treadmill, and listening to podcasts to counteract the crushing monotony.
 
On a recent episode of the Happier podcast, Gretchen Rubin and her co-host (and sister) Elizabeth Craft talked about choosing a holiday motto. The motto serves as a mantra to keep you focused on what you love about the holidays. It's also a way to decide which parts of the holidays matter to you, and which ones you can let go of.
 
My motto this Christmas is Comfort and Joy. I am such a task-driven person that I have to consciously remind myself that comfort and joy matter. Having the motto helps.
 
Homework: Choose a motto and use it to stay focused on what matters to you. You can also use your motto as a theme around your holiday activities and gift giving. Here are some examples from the podcast: Let it snow, let your heart be light, 'tis the season to be jolly.
Picture
Three-Buck Chuck absolutely counts as a holiday essential
3. Plan and Prevent
Every year we get up early on December 26 and drive ten hours to New Jersey to spend time with our family. It is SO worth making the trip to see with the people we had to say goodbye to when we moved to North Carolina.

We do a post-Christmas get together, catch up with each other, annoy the teenagers by talking about how much they've grown, and reconnect with the place we called home for eight years.
 
This will be our third year making the trek, and by now I've learned how important it is to plan and prevent, so we can focus on enjoying our visit.
 
Plan
Ain't no packing list as detailed as my December Road Trip packing list. Don't forget the Yankee Swap gifts. Make sure we bring the gift cards for the cousins. Pack some plastic bags for our road trip garbage. Do the final Highway 78 pit stop before we get past Harrisburg unless we want to use public bathrooms that require HAZMAT suits.
 
Prevent
One aspect of being a grumpy bugger is not sleeping well when you're away from home. So I prevent sleep deprivation by bringing my "special" pillow (because I'm a five year old), my melatonin, my chamomile tea, and all my other fussy sleeping supplies.
 
No one wants to be sick on a road trip, so I try to prevent germ infestation by stocking up on Zicam for noses, antibacterial wipes, and my Aunt La's famous Elderberry Elixir.
 
Homework: This is actually homework for me but you're welcome to join. My goal is to plan for a simplified holiday season next year by getting all my  shopping done by December 1, 2019. I hope this will prevent me from going full Grinch by the time Christmas rolls around.
 
Christmas is four days away, all the shopping is done, everyone has agreed to go with the easy option of Spaghetti Bolognese for Christmas dinner, and I got my annual meltdown out of the way yesterday, so things are looking up for the rest of 2018.

Therefore, I am currently being sincere when I say: Merry Christmas. May your holiday be filled with comfort and joy.
1 Comment

How Tom Petty Taught Me to Ice Skate

10/2/2018

0 Comments

 
Picture

This was written in 2016 and originally posted to my Medium.com page. I am reposting here on the one-year anniversary of the day we lost Tom Petty. 

Two hours, four days a week. That was my Kid-Free Time to Myself total last year. The amount of stuff I could get done in those eight hours would knock your socks off. Unless you are a mother, in which case you would be like, “Yeah that sounds about right.”

When your Get Stuff Done time is limited you learn to be incredibly efficient at errands and tasks. Which is why it seemed revolutionary and a little scandalous when I decided to spend one of my precious mornings each week ice skating. By myself.

I realized that the local ice skating rink had open skate time on Thursdays while my youngest was at preschool. I had taken my oldest ice skating a couple of times and gotten good enough so I could skate around at a decent speed without falling or running into other people. I had no idea how to stop, but it’s not like stopping is an important skill or anything.

So one morning I decided to drop my daughter at preschool, head two towns over, and ice skate. By myself. At ten o’clock on a Thursday morning.

The place was pretty empty except for a small group of older people who were all decked out in their skating gear and were obviously regulars. I rented my skates, paid the entrance fee, and got on the ice.

“Take it to the Limit” was playing on the sound system, and it echoed around the mostly empty rink in a way that I decided was peaceful and not creepy.

The rink had just opened for the day, so the ice was shiny and perfectly smooth. As I skated around the perimeter at my beginner pace and watched an old man lap me twice, I noticed that my skates were cutting lines into the perfect ice.

“I’m ruining the ice!” I thought. Sharp little icicles of shame formed in my heart and I started the familiar one-woman tango of feeling bad about myself.

Then I remembered my favorite Tom Petty lyric: Think of me what you will, I’ve got a little space to fill. Tom Petty (my Personal Rock God and Musical Savior) reminded me that the simple fact of my existence gives me the right to take up space and make marks in the ice. I paid my money, so I get to skate around in a slow ellipse and listen to the Eagles and Richard Marx with some nice retired people. Also, I am keeping the Zamboni driver employed.

I have a tendency to hide when left to my own devices. Sometimes I will get this sad invisible feeling, this existential loneliness that I feel even in a crowded room — especially in a crowded room. I’ve learned that this is a sign that I have been hiding.

I’ve identified a few masks that help me hide. Here are the top four:
1. The Stepford Wife: My life is perfect and I am handling everything like a boss!
2. The Giant Ear: I will use my killer listening skills to avoid having to ever volunteer any information about myself!
3. The Southern Belle: I will exhibit my best manners at all times, never asking for what I need or want!
4. The Pleasure to Have in Class: I am an obedient child and I will let the adults around me make my decisions, even if those adults are bagging my groceries or abusively honking at me!

Hiding feels safe, and then hiding feels lonely. At the ice skating rink I remembered that I have a right to be seen. As a grown up I have to choose to be seen if I want to be happy, even if that means scuffing up some perfectly smooth ice.

I wish I could always keep Tom Petty’s “think of me what you will” attitude top of mind. What I tend to default to is more of a “please never think anything negative or I will die” attitude.

But I’ve decided to fake it ’til I make it, and pretend that I could give a toss what anyone thinks of me, my ice skating hobby, my questionable math skills, my split ends, or any of the ways I fill my space.

Because it’s my space to fill. I hope you fill some space today in a way that makes you as happy as ice skating (and Tom Petty) make me.

Photo by udiscovermusic.com

0 Comments

The Eyes Are the Window to the Soul, or Something

9/29/2018

0 Comments

 
Picture
Eye doctor equipment inspired by Disney Pixar’s “Wall E”

Welcome to the eye doctor! Hard to believe it’s been a whole year. My, how you’ve grown slightly bigger, and aged! I know you enjoy going through life using your corrective lenses and pretending to be just like everyone else, but here at the eye doctor we feel it’s important to remind you at least once a year that you are, as the kids say, “nearsighted af.”

Let’s start in this room with me, a person whose title will forever be a mystery. Am I a Registered Nurse? A Physician’s Assistant? A receptionist from the temp agency? That is for me to know and you to not know, ever.

I (whoever the heck I am lol) will now ask you the first set of questions that you will just make up the answers to, including “how often do you change your lenses, do you ever sleep in your lenses, and what brand of solution do you use?”

Keep in mind that you will be summarily thrown out into the gutter if the answers to these questions even approximate “I change them whenever they are so covered with crud they are rendered opaque, sometimes I fall asleep in them, hee hee, why, is that bad, and how tf should I know the name of my contact solution, it is literally saltwater.” It should be noted that “just use my answers from last year” is also an unacceptable answer for which you will be judged.

Let’s proceed to the part where you have to take out your contacts and really come to grips with your visual situation. We enjoy seeing our patients go from “I’m winning at life,” to “I’m that old man from The Twilight Zone who survives nuclear annihilation only to break his glasses and be condemned to a life of misery.” We believe humility is an important step in acceptance, which is an important step in our secret plan to overthrow the government and install an optometric dictator, wait, I mean eye health.


Picture
The world is over and you can't see. Womp Womp.

Now that you are staring blankly ahead and awkwardly not seeing anything, I will leave you alone with your thoughts while you wait for the doctor. We have a fantastic selection of magazines for you to not read while you wait!  

Hi there, I’m the eye doctor. I hope your favorite thing is when an old man turns all the lights off and sticks his face millimeters from yours while shining laser pointers into your eyeballs!

After that, I will pull this old-timey contraption up to your face and make you look through different lenses and tell me which letters you see. Then I will slightly change the lenses and ask you which of two lenses is more clear, one or two (sometimes I will use different numbers, with no detectable pattern in my number choice). Most of the time the two lenses will look exactly the same to you and you will just randomly pick one, growing ever more anxious as you make up more and more answers and dig yourself into a hole of pure lies. One or two? Two or three? Three or four? Sixteen or Thirty-two? π or θ?

This will last for 550 minutes or until numbers and letters begin to look like meaningless symbols, (whichever comes first) and then the Fun Train will keep on chugging down to pupil dilation! This is where we drop some brackish yellow burny stuff in your eyes and make you wait some more while you look at blurry pictures in People Magazine or just hang out with your own relentlessly unhelpful thoughts.  


Picture
I heard through the grapevine that you have astigmatism.


​Then we shine some more laser pointers into your eyeballs, after which you finally get to go out in public, wearing disposable sunglasses that look like something that would happen if the California Raisins and your grandma designed eyewear together.

You have now completed your eye doctor visit. Go out into the unbearable sunlight, dear patient, with your keepsake glasses, your scarily-dilated pupils, and your ego squashed back down to a healthy size. “See” you next year bwahahahaha!

0 Comments

Vacuum Like You Mean It

1/18/2018

0 Comments

 
Picture
This is me vacuuming, according to my five year old.

​Two weeks ago I called a carpet cleaning company to deal with some rooms that needed professional help. The owner of the company launched into a list of things I would have to do to get the carpets ready to for the cleaning.
 
“Make sure there’s no little toys or things on the carpets, move smaller pieces of furniture out of the way, and vacuum the entire room. Vacuum those carpets like you mean it,” he said.
 
“Most people vacuum like their house is on fire,” he explained. “I don’t know why they’re in such a hurry. You want to vacuum like you mean it. Start with an empty vacuum canister and vacuum nice and slow. Slower than you’ve ever vacuumed before.”
 
Being a rule follower, I obediently did everything the carpet man asked me to do, while my spouse wondered out loud why I was working so hard when they were the ones getting paid. I picked up all the diabolical toys that hide under the couch: the Shopkins, K’nex, and other tiny plastic shapes in primary colors with jacked-up names that have no meaning in the English language.
 
Then I vacuumed like I frigging meant it. It took forever. My brain and body were itching to vacuum like I’m used to doing it, like the house is on fire. About halfway through the living room, something unexpected happened. The white noise of the vacuum engine, combined with the repetitive back and forth movement, started to feel soothing. The monkey in my mind stopped clanging her giant cymbals. I was spending so long vacuuming that I was actually running out of stuff to ruminate on. My river of thoughts slowed from whitewater rapids to babbling brook.
 
In this mentally and physically relaxed state I realized that this was the first time I had vacuumed while I was vacuuming. As opposed to ordering my kids around, or writing a strongly worded letter in my head to the neighborhood HOA about people driving too fast, or berating myself for not writing my son’s preschool teacher a thank you note three years ago…all while vacuuming.
 
Then I began to wonder when I last did anything like I meant it, which is to say: am I ever simply doing the thing I am doing while I am doing it? The answer is, not really. And that’s a disservice to myself, my loved ones, and the world. How am I honoring the unimaginably improbable privilege of being alive today if I am wandering through my life blinded by distraction?
 
So then I decided to do all my mundane tasks that day like I meant it. I heard the sound of the water while I did the dishes. I noticed how the dish soap smelled like a fruit that hasn’t been invented yet. I looked at the trees arching over the road while I drove to CVS. I heard my children playing I Spy in the backseat. I stopped in the middle of an afternoon dog walk to watch a mother and father cardinal teach their baby to fly.
 
All of these things gave me joy. They were simple everyday things, and they made me happy. And all it took was some concentration and intention courtesy of the carpet cleaner man.
 
Of course the best intentions tend to get waylaid by life. I continue to live in my head most of the time, taking myself on silent journeys of distraction through old wounds, resentments, struggles, and questions I will never find the answers to.
 
Sometimes I remember the carpet cleaning guy telling me to vacuum like I mean it. Sometimes I try to do that. Sometimes I am able to let my mind rest for twenty minutes while I fold the clothes like I mean it. To let my children see that I am eating dinner with them like I mean it. To talk to my husband about his day at work like I mean it.
 
Learning how to live life like I mean it? It’s a work in progress. But it helps to know that if I ever feel like I’ve gone too far into the maze of my own endless stream of thoughts, all I have to do is vacuum the living room. 
0 Comments

CONTROL ALT DELETE YOUR WAY TO HAPPINESS

1/3/2018

0 Comments

 
PictureSometimes you need to stop, sit on a pig chair, and reboot.
Last night my husband was trying to watch some television, and all hell nearly broke loose.

He had just gotten home from a long day back to work after traveling for the holidays. All he wanted was a little brain vacation, but what he got instead was a blank, ominously brackish television screen that was unresponsive to all four of our remote controls. (Um, yeah. we haven’t joined the world of the universal remote yet.)
 
So my loving husband did what anyone would do in his situation. He called his wife over for help.
 
I am the official IT person in my household, which is, honestly, pretty sad. But I have this one trick that works about 95% of the time. I learned it from the person who answers the phone at the cable company. I just turn off whatever is malfunctioning, and turn it back on. It works on Kindles, iPhones, Rokus, and many other devices with names that were invented by kindergarteners.
 
We all held our breath as I attempted my magic trick by unplugging and replugging the television, and…it worked! Crisis averted, my husband got to watch ESPN and my family continues to worship me for the technological genius that I am.
 
Which got me thinking…could my magic trick work on a human? What if I just CTRL+ALT+DELETE myself when I’m so stuck on something that I can’t move forward? What would a restart look like on a day that gets so sideways, I don’t know which way is up?
 
For example, yesterday was our first full day back from our holiday travels. I mostly wandered around the house, overwhelmed by the magnitude of tasks before me and therefore unable to focus on finishing anything. I got three loads of laundry done and not much else. (And when I say “done” I mean “clean.” I certainly do not mean “folded and put away.” I’m not a laundry-based cyborg, jeez.)
 
About 756 things got started yesterday, but nothing really got done.
 
I should have used my magic trick on myself. I should have stopped everything, taken a power nap, and tried again. Someone once said when their days go haywire, or they have completely had it with their kids, they stop everything, make a batch of cookies, and try again. (If you are this person, please identify yourself in the comments, and also, you are brilliant.)
 
​What would be your version of a restart button? Taking a walk? Meditating? Playing guitar? Watching Mexico: One Plate at a Time on PBS and then making the featured meal in your kitchen? (This one is very specific but I can think of at least one person in my life who would do this.)
 
In 2018 I resolve to try the restart trick whenever my day starts getting all janky. I think this is a friendly, doable resolution. Much more doable than, say, getting a universal remote. I mean, I may be a technological genius but I’m not Steve Jobs. 

Picture
When things get janky, stop the madness and do something you love.
0 Comments

    GRACE'S PLACE

    ...was the name of my column in Phillips' Finest, my middle school newspaper. If it was good enough for seventh grade, it's good enough for "adulthood."

    Archives

    March 2020
    September 2019
    August 2019
    April 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    June 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017

    Categories

    All
    Book Report
    Children
    Creativity
    Entrepreneurs
    Humor
    Life In General
    Mindfulness
    Motherhood
    Organization
    Technology
    Writing

    RSS Feed

Services

Portfolio

Contact

© COPYRIGHT 2015. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
  • Home
  • Services
    • Writing
    • Editing/Proofreading
    • Newsletters
  • Portfolio
  • Contact
  • Blog