It’s Gratituesday! Today I am grateful for those good kids, the ones that disprove the “teenager’s are all rotten theory.” I know some amazing teens who are respectful, kind, thoughtful, conscientious, giving, selfless, happy, easy-going and still fun to hang out with. They continue to step up that way even when others their age revert to two-year-old behaviors of selfishness, tantrums. disrespect and disruption.
I want to hug these out of the norm happy wonders of the human race! I want to thank them for trying so hard. They deserve kudos and congratulations. They give me hope for our future.
(Photo credit: dontstealmypen)
These kids volunteer without complaint. They show up for assignments without whining. Listening without interrupting or texting is one of the most respectful things I’ve seen. They smile or wave at grownups without getting embarrassed. They say “thank you” and “please” and “sure, I can do that.” They show up to class on time, prepared, with homework done. They babysit siblings and neighbors and can be trusted to be responsible and reliable. They don’t back talk or make snide remarks or respond with sarcasm or a demeaning tone. They use appropriate terms like “Sir, Ma’m, Mrs. Ms.” They express appreciation to others. They want to make a difference where they can.
Being in the “betweenness” of childhood and adulthood isn’t easy. It looks easy to the adults because they have selective memory of their own teen life being all fun and hanging out. But if they’re honest with themselves they’ll also remember how tough it is trying to figure out who they are, what they want to become, where they’re going, how to manage the maze of hormones and emotions and angst and homework and social insanity.
If you are a teen who’s giving it your best shot, trying to make good decisions, working to help your family, being a good friend, being respectful to the adults and others in your life, pat yourself on the back, buy yourself a shake, give yourself some well deserved credit. And know that you’re noticed and appreciated and yes, even loved!
If you have a teen in your life who is one of these great people, please let them know you appreciate how hard they work at being a good person. Let them know in real, tangible, out-loud ways, that they are wonderful and cared for and doing a great job.
Don’t blow smoke and make something up either. Praise the real things you’re seeing. And don’t sandwich it between criticism of what they aren’t succeeding at. Just let it be out there all by itself. Here’s a few suggestions:
“You are doing a great job at being kind to your brother.”
“I love how you hold the door for people!”
“Thanks for helping out with dinner today, it means a lot to me when you step up like that.”
“I know it isn’t easy holding down a job while going to school, you’re da’ bomb!”
“I appreciate how respectful you are to your mother and other adults.”
How glad I am to see such good stuff happening in the lives of young people. I’m making it a priority to send out more appreciation, live and in person to these good kids. I hope you’ll join me.
“If you try and take a cat apart to see how it works, the first thing you have on your hands is a non-working cat.
— Douglas Adams
Have I mentioned that my dad is a cat tuner? Yes, you read that correctly, a cat tuner. No it’s not a Boston-accent kind of fish.
The best I can do is illustrate how he goes about tuning a cat.
My youngest brother had a cat named Car Keys. Now Car Keys would be lounging about, sleeping, minding his own business in some quiet corner. Dad would slink up beside Car Keys and in one swift movement stamp his foot, clap his hands and let out an ear-piercing whistle. That poor kitty would leap about three feet into the air, let out a yowl and take off running out of dead sleep.
“That is how you tune a cat,” my dad would say, laughing.
He was simply honing the cat’s natural instincts.
Another time Dad might pick up Car Keys and snuggle him, pet that sweet spot behind the ears, love on that cat as if it were the best friend he ever had. Car Keys would get all comfortable and feel loved and cared for. At about that point Dad would gently toss the cat on to the roof.
You know if he could speak that cat would be saying, “*$($%*@(??*!!!!” Which is simply cat language for “what the heck?”
If I were that cat I’d leap down on Dad’s head and claw his ears apart. But no, Car Keys would slink about the roof looking for an easy way down. That cat liked to hang out on the roof after a while. I think it figured out Dad couldn’t sneak up on him very easily up there.
Having been the instrument of many of dad’s tunings, Car Keys didn’t, surprisingly, run away when he was around. That cat would still rub up against Dad’s leg, meow at him with affection and interest, and generally treat Dad like a regular person. Maybe it was Car Key’s way of proving to Dad that he wasn’t going to be manipulated, changed, or tuned.
I think Dad ’s also keeping himself sharp and tuned, like a young kid. That’s how he stays young, by being mischievous. That twinkle in his eye comes from seeing the world through a humorous lens. I think his mind is always thinking, “What can I do to liven things up, stir the pot, or kick things up a notch?”
Another brother’s cat lives with Mom and Dad nowadays. It seems to tolerate Dad’s tuning and teasing. It still snuggles up to him, doesn’t scratch him, and brings him dead critters it caught in the field as gifts of love.
If people were more like cats, or least like the cats my Dad has tuned, life would be a heck of a lot calmer and there’d be less contention. It’s as if those cats get my Dad. They understand he’s not mean. He’s just being silly and having fun. The cat mentality is so chill and relaxed, so forgiving and easygoing that none of Dad’s antics can keep it ruffled for long. People need to chill out, learn to laugh, relax, forgive, move on.
Come to think of it, Dad used to tune us kids. We’d be riding in the front seat of the truck or car, with him at the wheel, watching the scenery blowing past, relaxed and feeling good. There wasn’t much conversation usually. Next thing you know Dad would let out a whoop or an ear-piercing whistle and grab that tickle spot on just above your knee caps on the outside edged. We’d yelp and leap about four feet, which is tough to do in a vehicle with a low roof.
He’d chuckle and, once our heart rate slowed down a bit. Oh, we’d be in tune, but wary.
Never could return the favor.
Dang it.
Some people think I am one of those quiet people.
You know the ones I’m talking about? The kind of people who rarely speak up, who mutter incomprehensibly under their breath and who, when they do talk, barely squeak out a whisper. If anyone notices the quiet person has attempted to speak they can’t hear what’s being said.
“Huh?” serves as the most frequent response a quiet person hears from any and everyone.
Contrast that with the loud people. People who can’t seem to stop talking. Ever. People who feign shock and surprise if told there are other people in the room who have opinions, thoughts, voices. People who find silences, even the briefest of silence required by the intake of a breath between sentences, uncomfortable and unnerving.
Loud people take up all the space in a room, they absorb all the oxygen and leave no room or air for anyone else, quiet or medium people to say anything at all.
I’ll tell you something. The loud people get heard the most, but the quiet ones have most of the real answers.
Do quiet people end up with their photos on stamps more often than loud people do? (Photo credit © Fred Stein)
The trick is getting the words out of the quiet ones.
You can’t just say, “Hey (insert quiet person’s name here) what do YOU think?” That won’t work. Nope. Quiet people need, crave, desire, must have a clear and open runway, a wide berth big enough to land a 747 coming in with a tail wind and ice on the tarmac. Quiet people don’t want interruptions mid sentence. They figure if what they have to say has value, (and it does, believe me,) then patience and attention dang well better be duly paid for the entire span of the answer.
None of this is conscious of course. Observant by nature, quiet people spend their time taking in details, mulling over ideas, seeing the irony, debating the pros and cons and generally becoming wise. That, or they’re slowly drilling a deep mine shaft of too much introspection and self-analysis. But not usually.
Quiet people tend to be deep in a good way, most of the time. Depth of character, depth of knowledge, depth of humor and wit.
Get a quiet person in the right frame of mind, in a small group of listeners and you’ll have a rollicking good time and learn a ton of stuff doing so.
A quiet person will always think they’ve taken up too much time and disclosed way to much personal information. Over-sharing. Yes. That word. They worry about over-sharing, in short they avoid TMI and WTMI (Too Much Information and WAY To Much Information.) Loud people excel at WTMI.
Quiet people do want their voices heard and understood.. One on one is best, but rare. A small group might get a quiet person to peek out from under their force field of silence and observation to actually launch a sentence or two, maybe even let loose a full paragraph. Depends on the group and their willingness to listen.
Don’t confuse a quiet person with a shy person. That’s a common mistake. Shyness slinks about in the shadows and makes every effort to keep a distance, avoids social situations. A quiet person still dives into the center of things, just not verbally.
Albert Einstein, a quiet person, thoughtful and brilliant, said the following:
“If A is a success in life, then A equals x plus y plus z. Work is x; y is play; and z is keeping your mouth shut.”
For the mathematically inclined that looks like this:
A= x + y + z
A= success; x=work; y=play; z = keeping your mouth shut
Einstein (Photo credit: • Happy Batatinha •)
Einstein knew a thing or two about quiet people versus loud people. Loud ones don’t have time to think up things as brilliant as the theory of relativity . They’re too busy thinking up their next three sentences. Quiet ones will give you the world changing theories, the life altering insights, the unforgettable perspectives.
If you’re one of those quiet people, I’d encourage you to speak up a bit more. Maybe you need to write in a journal, practice spilling your thoughts onto a page. There’s a bunch of loud people out there who could benefit from what you’ve thought and observed. There’s a bunch of not so loud people who need your perspective and wit.
Be a little crazy. Get loud. Don’t mumble. Get your lungs behind those words and let them be heard.
You’ll be glad you did.
Bucket List, Schmucket List.
I’m probably one of three people on the planet who doesn’t have a bucket list.
So shoot me.
I’ve tried to make a list. I’ve started one. There’s one thing on it. I look at it and smirk. The smirk morphs into a self-deprecating laugh, which then mutates into a sinister shoulder devil.
The shoulder devil proceeds to tell me what a loser I am. The little dude whispers that I am what my life hands me. He murmurs things about obligations, commitments, real life and being self-less. I know, not your usual shoulder devil by any stretch. This one comes from the ranks of the Discouragement Platoon. He uses whatever he can get his hot little hands on.
He’s been quite effective so far in keeping me from even considering possibilities. Everything I can think of sounds unrealistic, undoable, pie-in-the-sky silly to me.
I don’t even start the list, I think of it in terms of questions and this shoulder devil smacks them down.
Okay. So maybe I shouldn’t aim so high. Maybe my bucket list could take on a more realistic, more achievable, more down-to-earth feel.
For instance?
Like, oh, I don’t know.
A bucket list by definition is usually big important stuff, right?
So I’m stumped.
I could try looking at it a different way. What if I had less than a year to live? Then what would be on my list. My shoulder devil growls a low deep gurgle of aggravation and simmers himself into a poof of steam, disappearing for a while.
Phew.
That would do it. It’s what’s really the big stuff. The big stuff that matters in the long run, in the short run, and while running out of breath.
Maybe I should get started.
That other stuff, may or may not happen. Whatever.
But the big, important stuff, I need to get ‘er done.
I know more lonely people than I want to. I wish I had more time, more of me to go around to fill that gap in their life. Or better yet, I’d like to take on the role of matchmaker in the friendship department.
You’d think with all the social media available people would feel more connected and less lonely. But the opposite seems true. People see the “friendships” and banter and simply feel more left out than ever. In fact, it seems to extend the junior high and high school drama into adulthood.
I think people forget that friendship is work. It requires something from both sides. Maybe we’ve all gotten a bit lazy, or too busy, or we’re shy, or we’re afraid of being hurt or judged or rejected, or whatever the excuse is and we fail to reach out. And we fail to accept the hand reaching toward us. You can’t get picky when it comes to friendship. There isn’t an ideal friend, there’s no soul mate of friendship. There are friends. They’ve got your back. That’s all that matters.
Forget “besties” and “BFF’s” and “friends forever.” Those are a dime a dozen.
For real friendship that matters think “workhorse,” or “perseverance,” think “sacrifice.”
“I think if I’ve learned anything about friendship, it’s to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired, don’t take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.” — Jon Katz
There are literally millions of quotes out there about friendship. This one bangs the nail solidly. Friendship equals work! “Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired.”
which translates into:
Friendship (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
What are you willing to sacrifice? Are you ready to give up security? Are you willing to risk being hurt? Can you take the chance on relationships?
How much work are you able to put into a potential friendship? Can you do a daily phone call? Will you listen and not just expect to be listened to? Are you worth it, in your own eyes?
Can you keep trying even when the results aren’t the ideal you imagined? We’re all simply human after all. Can you resist the need to push away? Can you open your own door to whoever might be knocking?
Dear Mom,
It’s no surprise to you I’m a word person. You’d think I’d easily write out thousands of words expressing love and appreciation on Mother’s Day. Instead I find the emotions so powerful, particularly this weekend with my son’s wedding, that I struggle with every word I write.
Maybe a list would help me pull my words together. So here’s a few things that I’ve learned from you, about life, about living, about mothering, about the world.
I know there’s much, much more that you taught me, but I think those six things sum it up fairly well. Thank you for being the mother I needed. Thank you for your continued love, support, sacrifice and caring. I plan on many more Mother’s Days with you, so stay well, enjoy life, and know you are loved beyond words.
All my love,
Kami
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)
It’s Gratituesday! Today I’m thankful for do-overs. Something about second chances fills me with hope.
Eraser (Photo credit: plounsbury)
All kinds of second-time-around opportunities surround us that we might not even see as do-overs.
Second chances abound. They serve as reminders that I am a work in progress and so is everyone around me.
My daily do-over starts with the beginning of another day where I have a new chance to get something right today that I made a mess of yesterday. Maybe that’s another reason I like mornings so much.
Remarriage after a divorce is a blessed do-over. I don’t know the stats but logically you’d think that things would go better in that new relationship because of lessons learned the first time around. Not to mention, there’s that appreciation factor, having lost something, then found it again, you cherish it more, care for it more, keep an eye on it better.
My son ties the knot later this week. This second chance at marriage bubbles over with joy and promise and so many good things. I want to dance across the park, shout over the tree tops, run like a banshee and sing at the top of my lungs. Don’t worry, I’ll remain dignified and just smile as the happy tears run down my face.
Ah, the blessedness of a second chance.
Pencils ready?
Enjoy a song all about second chances.
April 13 is National Scrabble Day.
I think there’s at least one or more “holiday” for every day in the year. Don’t even get me started on the weekly observances, the monthly commemorations. The lists are endless. The silly things people want to “celebrate” boggles my mind.
Scrabble (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
But Scrabble?
That’s different.
Scrabble was my portal into the world of words. My Grandparents owned that mystical box with the beautiful wooden tiles, letters pressed into them with the a tiny number in the bottom right hand corner. The colored squares in a radiating design mesmerized my very young mind.
Then to watch words form, seeing the connections and intersections of the words, helped me see the patterns and understand the different sounds and connections of letters. Two letter words beyond if, or, it, of? Wow! And then bigger words appeared that I’d never heard and wanted to know and use.
I wanted to play. I wanted to play and score high points. I wanted more words in my life.
Scrabble (Photo credit: williamhartz)
I didn’t get to play often as we didn’t own a Scrabble board at my house. But when I got the chance, I was in all the way.
Then a few years ago, in a serendipitous reconnection with a cousin I’d lost touch with for decades, I found Scrabble again. It became our medium for rebuilding a relationship. Those little chats we had as we each played a word or two over the internet were really parts of a bridge. Sure the game is fun and builds my vocabulary, but the real score was a solid friendship, a supportive two-way road between two family members, two almost-sisters.
Now we text, email, Facebook, call, and even travel across a mountain range to visit in person. Thanks to a simple game of letters we are now the cousins and friends we started out to be.
So yes, today I celebrate the game of Scrabble!
I hit a lifetime bingo high, with a triple letter score included, simply by playing the word R-E-L-A-T-I-V-E.
What it really spells is F-R-I-E-N-D.
Am I lucky, or what?
Kami's Beautiful Morning 