Author Archives: Kami

Overgrown

My front yard boasts an impressive acacia tree. It’s a good thirty feet tall with branches arching out over half of the yard and shading most of the driveway. With the tiniest of leaf petioles, I find it impressive that so much shade can exist under its twisting branches.

Acacia koa with phyllode between the branch an...

When the winds kick up around here the upper and outer branches, which are fairly thin and flexible, wave about like animated ghosts in a Disney cartoon. Some of the outer branches nearly touch the ground when the wind howls. It’s quite a show.

I worry that one of these mornings after one of our storms, I’ll peak out the front door to find the tree completed blown over or a significant branch or two lying on the ground. You see, the tree has a dire need of pruning.

Looking at it from a few houses away it looks okay. It’s green and fluffy and has a nice shape. But step underneath the tree and look up into the canopy and you’ll see the problem. Half of the branches are dead or dying, or at least look that way. I think maybe the tree can’t support that much growth, so the inside lower branches, which don’t get much sunlight kind of give up.

There’s one really large branch that’s broken but hanging on by the bark. We’re talking a branch eight inches across. All the branches on that limb have died and browned over and dropped most of their tiny leaves.

I’ve done the best I can with my pruning stick thingy, but it only cuts half-inch branches or smaller. What it really needs is a knowledgeable tree person to thin out the overgrown and unnecessary larger branches. This will, in turn, allow the rest of the tree to grow, flex, stretch and thrive.

Procrastination being my middle name, I’ve put off doing anything about it. Sure, I’ve asked a few friends for phone numbers of their tree people. But I haven’t followed through on getting estimates or scheduling the deed.

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I think I’m like that tree. I’m a tangled mess of a little of this and a bunch of that and some over here and there. Tough winds blow through my life and I get all tied up in knots and swoosh around wondering if I’m going to blow over or fall down.

It’s not that I’m wimpy or weak or wishy-washy. It’s more that I’m unfocused and spread over too wide of an area. So many things call to me for my time, money and attention.

I can’t do it all. My trunk and roots can’t support every leaf and branch my life wants to send out. Regardless of how worthwhile, fun, or interesting, sometimes I have to say “no.” Sometimes I have to let go of what looks good from a distance, but might, with closer inspection, really just take a toll on me.

Might be time for some personal pruning. Hmmm.

So, it’s five days since I wrote about the acacia tree. I finally had the tree pruned. It took a guy with power tools and ladders almost five hours to prune, trim, shape and bring that tree under control. Then he had to load the mountain of branches into his oversized trailer and strap it down snug.

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One of my fears was that it would look naked and overpruned. Luckily the tree guy really had a good handle on how to shape that mass of overgrown tangled branches. The tree still looks full and round. It still casts a broad shadow over my driveway and provides plenty of places for birds to hang out. But now, sunshine can get through the top canopy to the lower branches. Bits of blue sky show through when I look up from underneath this natural sculpture.

I think the tree will be happier and healthier without so much extra weight hanging on it. When the winds blow, the branches and tiny leaves will be less like sails on a ship and more like a musical instrument for the wind to make music with.

I think I’d be happier and healthier with some mental pruning. I’d rather be a musical instrument than a sail.

Categories: Gardening, Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Pain, Panic and Denial

Tell me if you do this, or is it just me.

I wake up with some pain, attribute it to something I shouldn’t have done the day before and toss back a couple Tylenol. When the pain gets worse I try to figure out how I can keep all my commitments for the day while riding wave after wave of increasing pain. I include prayer as part of the solution.

When those prayers begin to invoke every God I’ve ever heard of from other religions that I don’t practice, I figure I might need to call a medical professional.

Actually I think this trait is a woman thing, although I know men who’ve done the same thing.

Watch this funny video as an example of what I mean and then we’ll chat more.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=t7wmPWTnDbE&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dt7wmPWTnDbE#

I’m trying to figure out why we do this to ourselves. What’s so hard about slowing down and letting ourselves admit we aren’t Superhuman?

Check out this text I got this morning. Made me laugh even though laughing hurts at the moment.

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Let me just say I’m thankful for Vicodin and Advil, and for so many kind people in my life. As many have joked, “this too shall pass.” In the meantime I’m trying to avoid these two guys.

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Categories: Uncategorized | 3 Comments

What a Bunch of Nonsense!

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m grateful for silliness and nonsense. Yes, you read that correctly.  From seated bleacher “dancing” at the local High School football game, (that band rocks it!) to one liners and zingers on Facebook, from tickling to hot pink sparkly toenails on a woman over a certain age, from nonsensical YouTube video featuring llamas or dancing cats to old cartoons and sitcoms from the dark ages. Whatever the reason for a short break from life’s daily serious menu, I willingly embrace it.

minionsI’m lucky to know friends who’ll scream and giggle like teenagers in spite of being several decades older than the giggly screamer age. Fortunately I also know some quick-witted people who can go toe to toe with me with jokes and nonsense and movie quotes. Happily when our family gets together laughs and guffaws outweigh tension and discord fifty to one.

Life’s full of serious business, contemplative moments, heartache and worry.  I used to scare away potential friends with the weight of the world sitting solidly on my shoulder for all to see.  Laughter didn’t fit in with my earnest desires to make the most of my time on the planet. And then, someone taught me by example years ago that silliness didn’t take anything away from life’s solemnity. In fact, I saw and began to experience the load lightening magic of nonsense, laughter and silliness.

photo-19 copy 9Like downing a huge glass of ice water in the middle of a hot and sweaty task, silliness refreshes and refills and rejuvenates.

Too much of any good thing will cause more harm than good. All silliness and nonsense makes life a shallow pointless effort. Finding a good ratio between “LOL” (laughing out loud) and putting one’s “shoulder to the wheel” might make all the difference in my success at the hard work side of life.

If you happen to see a woman in a little truck doing some car dancing or belting out a tune like she’s some rockstar, it might just be me, taking a silliness break before heading back to my rock and my hard place.

Turn off your serious button and laugh a little. It’ll do you good. Click on these short links.

What is this Car Dancing she talks about?

Who said Cat’s can’t dance?

Okay, maybe llama’s are funny.

Categories: Fun, Gratitude, Gratituesday | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

What’s in Your Junk Drawer?

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My actual junk drawer!

We’re talking a drawer with the following dimensions: 10 x 20 x 3.5 inches

That’s 700 square inches, isn’t it? Good grief, that explains the magical qualities this drawer possesses!

Look at what this deceivingly cavernous small drawer holds!

The top visible layer:

  • scotch tape
  • sewing scissors
  • two pair regular scissors
  • craft paint
  • packing tape
  • glue sticks
  • 12 inch ruler (used to measure the drawer)
  • two screwdrivers
  • kid friendly magic markers
  • super glue
  • pencils
  • pens
  • roll of 5 mm leather cording
  • shoelace
  • ribbon
  • clothes pin
  • deck of playing cards
  • three-inch wide paint brush
  • batteries, mostly AAA
  • elastic bands

Digging in just a little:

  • candles, tapers and tea lights
  • yellow highlighter
  • roll of jute cord
  • packet of nails
  • permanent markers
  • matches
  • large tube of kitchen caulk
  • shelf brackets
  • key rings
  • a carabiner
  • extension cord
  • blue balloons
  • spool of white thread

Oxygen mask depth toward the back of the drawer:

  • multiple packets of fresh flower food
  • sample size bottle of liquid stevia
  • childproofing outlet cover
  • a lone cotton ball
  • screws, various sizes
  • paper clips
  • safety pins
  • magnets
  • zip ties
  • wildflower seeds (loose, dang it)
  • super glue
  • eraser refill
  • pink plastic diamond ring
  • thumbtacks
  • box cutter with rusty razor
  • bag of glass beads
  • o-rings, metal and rubber
  • chalk, a whole box
  • bungee cord mini sized
  • various crayons
  • green craft paint
  • spackling tool, with rust
  • metal bird Easter ornament
  • plastic over the door hook
  • pliers
  • a single red Lego
  • allen wrench
  • diaper pin (seriously?)
  • short length of chain
Non-Pinterest worthy mini organizer drawers. Notice that the ball needle has it's very own drawer!

Non-Pinterest worthy mini organizer drawers. (Notice that the ball needle has it’s very own drawer, 2nd row from top on the far left.)

Is that silly, or what?

No wonder I can’t find anything in this place. It’s all stuffed in the junk drawer. And I have a place designated for most of it. I own a  pencil holder, and a tool box, and a paint box, and toy boxes, and a sewing box, and a labeled organizer for tiny miscellaneous things. (None of these are Pinterest worthy, thank goodness.)

On a bright note, it took three years for this drawer to consume such a vast array of epic fabulousness and become a source of dissonance in my life. I know this because we moved into this house three years ago, give or take a month or two.

On another bright note, the drawer didn’t have any papers, old bills, photographs or receipts in it. Discussing the paper monsters requires several days worth of blog posts and I’m not so sure I have the emotional stamina right now to deal with that issue.)

On an odd note, there was no loose change of any kind in the drawer. Not even a gum covered penny or a sticky dime. What’s up with that?

Solution?

Dumping the entire contents out on a big towel on the floor clearly is the only way to deal with this much nonsense. Start fresh. Put on some tunes, freshen up my diet Coke, schedule an hour minimum and have my workout shoes on. Then every single tiny item gets put in its designated place. There shoudn’t be too much left over in the miscellaneous category. At least, that would be my dream.

I’ll clear some time on my itinerary for this project. Maybe this Saturday. And I’ll reward myself afterwards with something delicious, like a nap.

Take a deep cleansing breath at this point.

There! Now that you’ve peered into my junk drawer don’t you feel better about yours?

Categories: Family, Humor | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

I Would Have

I’m using the Sandwich theory today. When you have to tell someone bad news slip it in between two good things. Not that the middle thing is bad news. Really it’s just something we hear in various forms but we don’t really listen.

Or is that we listen to but don’t really hear?

Whatever. Pay attention to the middle today, okay?

This sandwich is kind of like a good and healthy middle filling that we should choose to eat, enclosed by homemade bread.

Here’s one slice of bread:

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I didn’t promise the bread would be delicious, did I? Oh well, it’s a classic anyway.

Here’s the flavor packed protein filled goodness of today’s sandwich:

Erma Bombeck wrote this back in 1979 at the same age I am now, and many, many years before she passed away..

“Someone asked me the other day if I had my life to live over would I change anything. My answer was no, but then I thought about it and changed my mind.

If I had my life to live over again I would have waxed less and listened more.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy and complaining about the shadow over my feet, I’d have cherished every minute of it and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was to be my only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.

I would have eaten popcorn in the “good” living room and worried less about the dirt when you lit the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.

I would have sat cross-legged on the lawn with my children and never worried about grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television … and more while watching real life.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband which I took for granted.

I would have eaten less cottage cheese and more ice cream.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick, instead of pretending the Earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for a day.

I would never have bought ANYTHING just because it was practical/wouldn’t show soil/ guaranteed to last a lifetime.

When my child kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now, go get washed up for dinner.”

There would have been more I love yous … more I’m sorrys … more I’m listenings … but mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute of it … look at it and really see it … try it on … live it … exhaust it … and never give that minute back until there was nothing left of it.”

Here’s the other slice of bread:

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Insert your own rimshot at this point.

Hey, you can’t always take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

Just three little somethings to let your brain chew on for a while.

Happy Sunday!

Categories: Humor, People, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , | 3 Comments

The Looking Back Game

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Just a handful of my journals.

I play this game occasionally. It’s called, “What was I doing on this day x many years ago.”

I get out a few of my not too recent past journals and happy books and look up the month and day. Today I would look up October 12 in whatever year I held in my hands.

It’s a gambling game because the potential for happy memories is fairly high, but the risk that I’ll be reading about some low point is equally high. For that reason I have several years handy. If one years entry for that day is more than I want to delve into I can drop it like a hot potato and jump to the next entry quick and easy.

This morning I played the game with the idea that I’d find something muse-like to inspire me. Y’know, jog a great memory, remind me of a great day I could write about, or conjure people from my past. But like life tends to do, what I found instead wasn’t the thing I searched for.

Here’s a few things I found while playing this morning:

  1. I realized I have led a weird life that makes little sense to an outsider and even to an insider. 
  2. My experiences don’t fit in a box. I’m a rectangle peg in a round hole world.
  3. It’s a wonder I’m not completely nuts and committed and on heavy sedation.
  4. Forgetting is a healthy thing.
  5. Forgiving is even healthier than forgetting.
  6. There has to be a higher power operating in my life or I’d have never survived some of the roads I’ve taken.
  7. I’ve found beauty in the oddest of places and joy among ashes and destruction.
  8. I don’t see things the way most people do, which can fall on either side of the good/bad spectrum.
  9. I’m not always honest with myself even in my journals.
  10. The truth wins in staring contests every time.
  11. “Blessed” is too weak a word to describe my life so far.
  12. It’s a good thing I didn’t know about the obstacles in the road ahead.
  13. Looking back at those obstacles astounds and amazes me.
  14. I don’t want to have a clue about what’s still waiting for me up ahead.
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A page from a Happy Book.

For these reasons and dozens more, I’m extremely glad I’ve written down some of the stuff of my life. A review of the past like today’s little game makes me more determined to journal about the real, the difficult, the conversations, the laughter, the frightening and especially the love.

I particularly don’t want to forget a single person who’s been part of my days and hours. I want word snapshots of each one of them that, like a key, will unlock our shared time together in faded, but still clear nuances of smiles or tears, gestures, a certain look, words shared and sweet kindnesses.

The hard times give contrast and shadow to the softer ones and make me cherish the now, whatever that might bring. Honestly, reading about some of those struggles makes me pray all the more that I don’t have to face anything like it again. I’m done with difficult. Although, I’m pretty sure difficult isn’t done with me.

In journal writing or happy book writing, it’s not the historical details but the emotions behind those facts that really matter. As much as I’d like to forget at times, I really, really want to remember, too.

I think I’ll be a little kinder to myself today. I think I’ve earned it.

That wasn’t such a fun game as I’d hoped.

Categories: Books, Memory Lane | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Planting the Green, Green Grass of Home

October is spring time for me and I don’t live in the Southern hemisphere.

I can explain.

I grew up with four seasons. The traditional ones. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. Three months, more or less, of each. Winter was the brutal months. Walking to the bus in the near blizzard conditions made me question my desire for an education. The first few weeks of sledding and tubing and snowman construction got old quickly when the snow melted and pooled around my toes in galoshes. I did not like the cold. I still don’t.

Umpteen moves later we’ve temporarily settled, for the past 15 years, in the Phoenix area. Two seasons exist here: hot and warm.

Because of the southwestern desert heat during the summer months of April through September, I stay inside with air-conditioning keeping me cool and sane. Sure, I venture outdoors in the early morning hours before the sun comes up, and after the sun goes down. When the sun’s visible, I try to avoid being out there. It’s brutal. One hundred ten, one hundred fifteen, and that’s in the shade. I get cabin fever stuck inside so much.

If we had a pool I’d be out there more, but that’s a luxury, even here.

By time the temperatures drop below a hundred and the evenings cool into the seventies I feel like a bear that’s been hibernating all winter. Finally, I get to go outdoors, breathing unprocessed air, walking, biking, gardening, swinging kids at the park, picnicking, hiking, living.

I often and mistakenly call the fall months springtime here. Weird, but that’s how my brain processes finally being able to escape the indoors.

photo-18 copy 11I just spent four hours outdoors overseeding my winter lawn with rye grass seed in my backyard. If I don’t do this the cooler temperatures force the Bermuda grass into hibernation mode and I look out on three hundred square feet of dead looking grass until April. It’s not much fun to play on or lie on, or walk barefoot in. Not to mention the dead stuff gets tracked into the house and makes a mess. So, environmentally irresponsible or no, I scalp the lawn, spread the perennial  rye  grass seed, layer on the topping mulch or, (gross) steer manure, and then water faithfully three or four times a day for a week or so.

The end result?  A lush, living, breathing carpet of green as a foreground to my raised vegetable and flower beds.

While spreading the dirt over the freshly scattered tiny seeds, I thought of all the seeds I’ve planted over the years. Vegetables, flowers, grass. Some grew and some didn’t. Some shot up tiny seedlings and then died off. And some took off and grew into incredible plants with a yield that would do any master gardener proud. I just never know what results to expect.

That’s so much like my life.

photo-17 copy 17I’ve put effort into things I thought would produce happiness and satisfaction. I’ve spent time with people I believed I could help or who needed what I had to offer. The various seeds I’ve planted boggle my mind if I think about it much.

And just like the vegetables, flowers and grass, some of my seeds have done nothing. Some looked promising and then died off. And some became a rich and stunning plant that gave back more than I ever put in.

I’m afraid I might have planted too much meaning and hope among my grass seed today. I get a little antsy when I do that. Putting myself into something scares me every time. Over-investing myself in anything feels particularly risky.

Oh well.

I throw the seed out there. I water, I fertilize and I hope.

Categories: Gardening, Hope, Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Going Crazy…Be Back Soon

Going crazy…be back soon. That’s my favorite joke I tell myself every day lately. If I could find a bumper sticker that said that, I’d buy it. I’m sure there’s one out there, I just haven’t looked.

I know, it’s politically incorrect to make fun of or joke about, well, just about everything nowadays. But I’m simply laughing at myself when I say that.

The way I see it, I can laugh or I can cry. I choose to laugh. You see, I’ve battled depression off and on throughout my adult life. At times the battle nearly did me in. Luckily, blessedly, I’ve had people on my side, even if I haven’t always recognized it or allowed them to help.

I’ve also had family members, close and distant with their own mental health demons, and all the daily battles and years long wars that entails. Some lost that war, and what a horrific loss.

My best advice from the front lines? Don’t be silent about it. Don’t be ashamed by it. Talk to someone about it.

A close friend, a clergy member, a family member, a health care professional, a counselor anyone. There are help lines you can call, there are more people out there who have been exactly where you are.

And if you’ve been there, don’t be silent about it either. It’s not something we should be hiding. Our experience could be the saving grace or the hand that deflects the last straw.

Imagine realizing the person you’ve looked up to as a role model, the with it, always together, mellow person lets you know they’ve battled one of those mental health demons. Wouldn’t you want to know how they did it? Would you feel safe talking to them about your own worries, or the concerns you have about a spouse, a child, a parent? Imagine then, being the person who could help, and then open up and be that person.

Back in the Paleozoic era, when depression grabbed ahold of me and pulled me into a dark and bottomless pit, there was one medication available to treat it. Now, the list is longer than my arm.

You say you don’t want to go the medication route? Fine, there is still help and caring people with information you could use to win this war.

Today is World Mental Health Day.

Reach out for help. Or reach out to offer help. Either way, don’t be silent about it. Please.

Click here, or here, or here, or here, or here to learn more, to get help, to start opening up, to begin to change the world.

And then, enjoy these lovely jokes about being crazy. Because we all need to laugh.

mh28The aspiring psychiatrists were attending their first class on emotional extremes. “Just to establish some parameters,” said the professor to the student from Arkansas, “What is the opposite of joy?”

“Sadness,” said the student.

And the opposite of depression?” he asked of the young lady from Oklahoma.

“Elation,” said she.

“And you sir,” he said to the young man from Texas, “how about the opposite of woe?”

The Texan replied, “Sir, I believe that would be giddy-up.”

frank-cotham-if-you-have-any-mental-health-issues-you-d-like-to-discuss-now-would-be-new-yorker-cartoonQ: How does a crazy person travel through the woods?

A: They take the psycho path.

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And these t-shirts are pretty funny, too!

Seriously, laughter might help, but it’s not a cure, not usually.

Ask for help. Offer help. Open up. You’ll be glad you did.

Categories: Mental Health | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Flying Fire

While camping with my young family in North Carolina I experienced something truly splendiferous for the first time.

English: Campfire with sparks in Anttoora, Fin...

Campfire with sparks. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A campfire worked itself into a steady quiet burn. Smoke spiraled lazily from its center. The day settled out in a tired wash of well-worked muscles. Each kid, except for the three-year old who was asleep in the tent, had a stirring stick inside the fire. Not that the fire needed stirring, but kids seem compelled to play with fire, literally and proverbially. They’d ignite the end and then, sparkler-like, draw designs in the air until the flame died out. Then they’d spin smoke signals, tendrils of nothingness joining in the spiral from the center of the main fire. This game could go on for nearly an hour until we called bedtime. Until then, we let them play.

My eyes followed the line of smoke upward as it wove itself among the dense canopy of leaves. No breeze of any kind disturbed the disappearing trail of grey. The trees stood completely still and quiet. The coolness of the air began to settle in around our feet. I leaned back on the large log I sat on, hugged my arms to warm up a bit and looked up to see the stars. Nothing surpasses starlight’s intensity when out camping somewhere far from city lights.

The overhead leaves and branches obstructed the view of the night sky, except for a patch here or there. My eyes searched to find familiar constellations, but the sections of sky I could see were too small. Then movement caught my attention. The leaves weren’t moving and yet they seemed to move. I asked my husband if he’d heard of a meteor shower happening. That caught his attention. He sat down beside me and looked up.

I pointed to the patch of sky I’d seen moving. “There,” I said, and “there, and there.” A meteor shower for sure, but without the streaks of light. These stars resembled embers in a fire, a quick flash of light that would disappear then quickly reappear as another flash nearby.

“That is not a meteor shower,” my husband said definitively. “Those are fireflies!” He laughed. “Come here, kids,  you gotta see this!”

common eastern (USA) firefly. Français : Photi...

Don’t let his looks fool you, this little guy can light things up and get a party going.

What? No. That’s not what fireflies look like, I thought to myself. Those lights are in the distance, high up in the atmosphere. And yet, I looked again, maybe he’s right.

The excitement and shift in his voice elicited instant obedience. The stirring sticks dropped to the ground and they rushed over to where my husband sat. He pointed skyward.

“Do you see those lights in the trees?” he asked the kids. “Watch. See those flashing, moving lights? Those are fireflies.”

“Cool!” The two of them said in tandem. “Can we catch them?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, “they’re way past the tops of the trees.” But as I said this, the lights drew closer to us. Sure enough, the small group of lights flitted about lower and lower in the branches and then began to spread out and disperse. They didn’t fly close enough for us to see any details,  we simply admired their on again off again glow.

The kids ran and jumped and spun around under the disappearing blinking bugs. The air around us felt magical somehow, as if the sky itself had reached down and christened our camping spot with traveling starlight. Tinkerbell herself couldn’t have cast a better spell.

I’m pretty sure we floated off to sleep on a cloud of wonder and awe.

The cleverest of magicians and the finest of artists, Gaia, the ancient Greek goddess of earth,  surely weaves her incantations and her brushes with panache and skill. Better than stargazing and better than a meteor shower my first experience with fireflies put a smile on my face that lasted several days.

Thinking about it even this many years later makes me want to believe in magic.

Categories: Fun, Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

That Tiny Button Makes All the Difference

It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for the lowly belly button. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that little dimpled spot smack dab in the middle of my tummy.

Just like most buttons, the belly button serves as a connection. Or at least it did at one time. A most important point of contact, that little juncture provided all the nourishment necessary to grow a baby. And amazingly, once that connection disconnects, the baby continues to grow, although nourished and fed through varied and different means than the womb provided.

I’m astounded time and again by newborns. They arrive equipped with all the necessary components to become a full-grown adult. Everything just starts out in miniature form. I look at my six-foot something son and wonder at that miraculous transformation. He started out at a mere eight pounds and now he’s this dude, man, guy, adult who continues to amaze me with all he can do. If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t believe it now that I once had a part in his creation. He’s simply the tallest of my children and so elicits the most wonder at the transformation. Each of my kids sports a belly button, witness to our once most intimate and cherished relationship.

Have you ever seen a cuter belly button?

Have you ever seen a cuter belly button?

That first week or so of a baby’s life falls under the surreal category. Watching that bit of umbilical cord shrivel and shrink and eventually disconnect feels almost sacred and bittersweet. Does that seem like a strange thing to say? I find it amazing that instead of some ugly, odd scar left behind, there is instead a dimpled little pocket or a small mound, an Innie or an Outie. A reminder of one’s origins, once a literal link to the metaphorical mother ship.

I like to think the belly button is an homage to those who birthed us. Mother or birth-mother, there existed once, a primal connection. And there remains a reminder of that most precious of bonds, a token of the ultimate life force.

Does yours collect lint? Or do you keep it pristine and polished? Have you added a sparkle of jewelry to it? Do you ever consider the lowly little navel at all? I don’t very often. Since a newborn joined our flock recently I’ve thought of the reason and meaning of the belly button more often.

I laugh at that sweet, funny mark of humanity.

I marvel at the circular wonder of it all.

Categories: Family, Gratitude, Gratituesday, parenting | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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