I'm Back....Sort Of

I don't really remember the last time I posted and right now I am too lazy to look. Does it really matter? I'm back, aren't I? I picked up the proverbial pen and began writing again regardless of how half-assed it really feels.

This year has sucked. I've had several illnesses and ailments. My dog died. My sister-in-law was diagnosed with skin cancer. And my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. These are just the highlights not in any certain order. There is actually more between the lines and creases of my days.

I normally hate to complain. I usually try to focus on my gratitude and my blessings. When problems arise, I am more of the proactive, take it head on, type. But as I lie here in bed with my second bought of mono for the year, I feel defeated: physically, emotionally, spiritually. Sure I've been praying. I've tried to exercise when I haven't been injured or sick. I eat my veggies and drink my soy. But right now it all seems in vain.

My husband posed a question the other day watching college football. One of the guys made an amazing play and in the midst of his celebration, he pointed to the sky and clasped his hands as if in prayer. Jonas asked: "So, why do they thank God when they make a good play but they say nothing of Him when they fail or lose?" I couldn't answer him without sounding cynical or heretical. Most people ask "Where is God" during the bad times...me included. I've been taught that God doesn't cause bad things to happen: He allows free will and the free course of consequences in the world. IF something bad does happen, God is there with you every step. I'm just feeling a little lonely right now.

Then today I visited with Mom on my Windows Messenger video chat. There she was with her shiny bald head, looking strangely beautiful and serene. She has amazed me beyond comprehension with her unfailing devotion to her Faith through this journey called "Cancer." Sure, she has cried and she has asked "why?" Who wouldn't? But in contrast to those failing football players (and a good portion of the human population),she doesn't question God; she clings to him as a small child to its mother. She doesn't blame God; she welcomes the wisdom to come from her experience. She doesn't wallow in her loneliness; she cuddles in His constant embrace in her life. Mom doesn't look for the reason but knows that reason will present itself in due time and to her, it will be worth it all to help just one other person.

Little does she know, but my bald headed Momma with cancer is the one giving me the strength to make it through the rest this awful year has to offer. Her steadfast faith gives me hope that maybe God does hear me during my middle of the night pleas. Because of her, I can put one foot in front of the other with my slow steady progress towards accepting what is now will eventually pass and allowing myself to let a "reason" become enough.

Kill 'Em with Kindness

We all remember hearing and quoting The Golden Rule: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." It took a while for me to figure this one out. As a child, I thought it meant that I should hit my brother when he hit me. After all, isn't that the way he wanted to be treated? I was just doing him a favor. Right?

I grew up the first half of my life in some quintessential Texas towns. One was in Northeast Texas (Sherman) and the other two were in West Texas (Amarillo and Lubbock). I have various memories from each: living minutes away from my grandparents and great-grandparents in Amarillo; the huge pecan tree in our backyard in Sherman; the dust storms in Lubbock. One thing in common for all these towns is that each one was, and still is, chock full of nice people.

Living in Texas for 25 years (and one year in Colorado--another very nice place) and being raised by Texans (my brother and I are believed to be 7th generation Texans) made kindness a way of life like walking or eating. Of course, you greet people on the street with a "Good Morning," even though you don't know them. It is an involuntary act to make a casserole for a friend who has a family occurrence of birth, illness or death. Why not invite the new family on the block to a party...the more the merrier! Southern hospitality is unprecedented and a southern heart or table always has room for more.

After marrying my "Yankee" husband, I had a rough time moving to the Northeastern United States about fourteen years ago. Although I looked forward to the adventure of a new place, I was ignorant how much this area lacked the social skills of basic kindness. I suffered from major culture shock! Through the years in Rhode Island, I've dealt with rude people on the street, unbearable customer service, and ungrateful, self-absorbed neighbors. I've lived in four different residences in Rhode Island and haven't once had a neighbor welcome me or introduce themselves when we moved in. It took me two years to make a new friend. People here are very "tribal": they have their own circle and it is very difficult to break through. I would go walking on Blackstone Boulevard in Providence, greeting people along the way without receiving any more than a blank look as a response. I remember when we had to spend our first Thanksgiving here and my in laws were out of town. No one invited us to join them (I had friends at this point). No one offered us a pumpkin pie. My husband bought a chicken, I roasted it and we spent the day alone. As my mother said: "that would never happen in Texas." I remember countless Thanksgivings growing up with random neighbors, business associates and acquaintances who would join us because my parents believed that you can always make room for more

I was at the dentist this week getting a crown and he brought up Texas and how amazed he is when he goes there on business. People greet him in the hotel lobby. Business men ask him to their houses for dinner while others offer to take him to buy his own pair of cowboy boots during their time off from work. He then compared being there to our own "Little Rude Rhody"and without even knowing I write a blog, he said to me: "You know, Tracie, you should write an editorial about how easy it is to be nice. Texans know how to be nice." He isn't the first one to tell me this. I've had store clerks, policemen stopping me to give me a ticket, plumbers, electricians, contractors, doctors and receptionists tell me how much they appreciate how nice I was to them. "It is so refreshing not to get yelled at, "one of them told me. A few of them said, "Wow, you must not be from Rhode Island." "No, " I proudly respond, "I'm from Texas."

I believe I was blessed with caring parents who taught be how to act and to treat other people with true kindness. It is second nature for me to say "Please," "Thank You," and "Have a Nice Day." I try on a daily basis to instill this practice into my own children and I am so proud when they mirror my behaviour without being prompted. As I have written before, it takes the same amount of time to say something in a kind manner as it does to say something with malice. I like to think that each time I am nice to someone, that one act of kindness will help them be nice to another, and so on and so on and so on...Do I get mad? Sure. Do I get disappointed and frustrated when things don't go the way I planned them. Of course! On a day-in, day-out basis, I try to keep things into perspective: "It is what it is." I have a mental list of questions I run through quickly before responding while I take a nice deep yoga breath: "Is this life or death situation? In the great scheme of my life, how important is this really? Could they be having a bad day or did something happen that is making them cranky? Do I want to preserve this relationship?" What I've found is what my mother has always told me (yes, Mom, you were right): "You attract more bees with honey than with vinegar."

Here are some tips for living a kind life:

1. BE GRATEFUL: Be grateful for what you have and what you are able to do. Living a life of wanting leaves you empty and angry. Tell your pool company: "Thank you so much for coming out to open the pool this week. I would really appreciate it if someone could come out to check as soon as possible. The pool is green and I am having a party on Friday."



2. BE APPRECIATIVE: Appreciate what others can do for you rather than focusing on what they can't. Don't have the attitude that you deserve something because you are smart, rich, on time, or a certain ethnic race. Living a life of deserving and self righteousness will leave you disappointed and frustrated. Tell the receptionist: "I know you must be really busy, but could I please ask you a question? I have to be out of here in 30 minutes, should I reschedule or will the doctor be able to see me soon?"



3. BE COURTEOUS: Make it a practice to use your Ps and Qs. Say "thank you" to anyone who helps you do anything and assists you in any way: the clerk at the grocery store; the teller at the bank; the waitress at lunch. And, please, whatever you do, please say please. "Please" is a sweet little cushion even if you are asking for the impossible.



4. BE FRIENDLY: Smile and say "Hi", "Good-bye," and "Have a good day" every day to everyone you meet. It is simple. It is fast. It costs you nothing but will pay you back in boundless benevolence.



5. BE SYMPATHETIC: Got a grouchy check out clerk? Instead of snapping back, know that he or she must have something going on. You never know what happens at home or in the hearts of our fellow human beings. Either carry on as quickly as you can without any provocation (don't rock the boat) or make an effort to heal a wound: "Wow, you must be having a bad day. I sure hope it gets better."



6. BE CONSIDERATE: Do small things as often as you can to breed kindness in your heart. Try to "touch, move and inspire" someone on a daily, or at least weekly, basis. Open the door for moms struggling with a stroller. Wait patiently for the elderly person crossing the street. Move over at the bar so a couple can sit together. Let the person pass on the highway who has her blinker on instead of giving her the finger and squeezing her out (yes, this happens). Take brownies to the new neighbors.

There are mean people all over the world, even in Texas. Rhode Island is just where I live now and will probably live for a long time. I tried for years to get my husband to move but we haven't been able to because of his work situation. In the last ten years, I have made some amazing friends. Most of them are "transplants" just like me but there are some native Rhode Islanders with heart and soul...(I know a few of them). I saw a message outside a church after I got my dental crown that day: "Kindness is not a bad religion. No matter what name you use for God."

Mommy Crisis or What Was I Thinking?

Hey, Moms out there, do you ever have a moment when you wished you weren't a mother? Oh, come on, admit it. This is a Mommy-guilt free zone. I've been a mother for 10 years now and have wished several times (too many to even count) that I wasn't one. Sometimes it is for a moment, sometimes a day; I've even had a few months in a row before (that is a long story for another blog). I FINALLY admitted my secret wish the other day to a friend of mine. It was just "one-of-those-days": "I know this sounds awful," of course I had to preface what I had to say with that so I didn't look too evil, "but there are times that I wish, really wish I wasn't a mother." To my little selfish surprise, she grinned and said, "Me, too."

Don't get me wrong; I wouldn't trade my kids for anything...well, at least at this moment I wouldn't. Ask me another time and you might get a different answer! I worked so hard to have those babies: four miscarriages, months of morning sickness, fat ankles (although more than my ankles were fat), not to mention the money I spent on ovulation kits and maternity tests. Truly, I love them deeply and, as all Mothers know, I would eat dirt for them if need be, but there are also times that I would love to take that dirt and shove it right in their little foul mouths.

So, here goes: I wish I wasn't a Mother when....

• My child says, "Mom, I hate you....you are the worst Mother in world. I wish you weren't my mother!" Or any other variation on a theme. When I was little, my Mom used to threaten to sell me to the gypsies. When I was quite small, I believed her a bit. Then when I realized it was against the law to sell children, she was toast! Even though I knew it was eventually coming, the first time my sweet child assulted me, I was aghast! To think that I actually created this little monster who stood there, verbally abusing me. My mental reaction is "What was I thinking when I decided to have a baby? So you can yell nasty things at me? If I wanted that, I would've just rented a kid." My actual reaction: "Believe me, buddy, I wish I could send you back right now, but that it impossible! Now, go to your room."


• I am trying to change my tampon and my children keep coming in to ask very inane questions or to tattle on each other. Sure, I should lock the door, but the lock it broken. So instead I have to figure out how to simultaneously block the door with my foot while taking care of business. At the same time yelling "Mommy needs her privacy!! I'll be there in a minute!! Go downstairs and get yourself some candy!!!" Thank the good Lord for yoga (or should I be thanking Buddha for that?) My rule now is that if the house isn't on fire and if no one is bleeding, then leave me alone when I am in the bathroom. Remind me to get that lock fixed!


• I have a hangover and someone wants pancakes at 6:30 a.m. This does not happen often, but when it does, man, oh man, do I wish I was back in college with a day ahead of me with nothing better to do than lay in bed, eat saltines and sip Sprite in the dark. I always tell myself: "I will never do this again." But sometimes it just creeps up when you're with your friends, and the music is playing and you are living for the moment. Then the sun comes up and all I can hear is "I'M HUNGRY!! I WANT PANCAKES!" Oh, for the day when they can make their own damn pancakes.


• A toddler throws up on me at the beginning of an overseas airplane ride. I have the flight attendant yelling at me something about germs and food. I have the baby screaming, crying and heaving. I'm standing there literally head to toe in vomit, chunks in my hair, drenched in the foulest smell without a change of clothing for myself (but I packed 3 for him!) Passengers are looking at me in horror. This is a Dorothy moment where I desperately click my heels together and wish, oh wish, I was back home---or at least single, sitting in first class with my cocktail, magazine and fresh baked cookies. Somehow, that doesn't work.


• The doctor told me that the only way to get my stomach back would be to have a major surgery. You know those women who are "all belly" when they are pregnant. That was me with both babies...although I was also all ass. When most women aren't wearing maternity clothes until after week 16-20, I was in them almost immediately. Seriously. At 16 weeks, I had a lady ask me when I was due, and when I told her, she looked at me like I had 10 heads and said "Honey, you look like you are about to pop." Thanks, lady, who I don't know. Now I feel REALLY good about myself. So, I learned to start lying about my due date so people would tell me how good I looked. Bad, I know, but I do have an ego to nurture. My expectation are not that high. I know I won't have the pre-baby body I had in my 20s, but I would like one that doesn't look so lumpy and saggy.


• Trying to change planes while flying home to Texas. I have got one in the stroller who can walk and one walking who doesn't want to walk. We have to go from one terminal to another in less than 30 minutes. I have a backpack that the walker refuses to carry, my bag with all-things-mother in it (so you know it weighs a billion pounds) and I have to keep picking up the bottle that the rider keeps dropping on the floor. I'm sweating. I'm thirsty. I have to pee. The one in the stroller is crying because she wants out and the one walking is crying because he wants to ride: "It's NOT FAIR she gets to ride." "But, honey, she doesn't know how to walk!" "I don't care, it's NOT FAIR!" I am literally dragging (picture child on floor flailing and me pulling an arm) the non-walking walker down the terminal with one hand and trying to steer a stroller with the other while hundreds of travellers stare at me in disbelief. Click, click, click those heels....damn, they're still here.

In the grand scheme of a lifetime, these difficult times are fleeting and far between. The clock hands seem to a crawl when I am in the midst of a Mommy-crisis. Then, once the air clears, I take a breath and we are back to the same ol' routine of snuggles, giggles, ruffled hair, grass stained knees (the sign of a very good day) and words of love. The bad news is, time truly does fly when you are having fun.

Lucy Goosey's Legacy

On Monday, May 4, 2009 our family dog, Lucy Goosey, died unexpectedly. The experience was beyond gut-wrenching. One of the hardest things for me to do was to pick up my kids from school, knowing that when we got home, the news would break their hearts. It was a warm day, sunny and clear. The kids came out of class with hope of dinner out and possibly ice cream for dessert (cotton candy for Audrey and peanut butter perfection for Dakota). I smiled, hugged them and said "What a wonderful idea. We will do that. Hey, and guess what, Dad didn't have to go on his business trip after all." They ignited into more furious giggles and the jumps in anticipation of our surprise night with Dad and all the trimmings. Now looking back, I'm not sure if I should've made them SO happy before releasing the final blow. I had no energy to argue or explain anything; I just wanted them home and in my arms.

After asking the kids to sit down on the couch for a "quick talk" before moving on with our evening plans, Dakota guessed it right away: "Someone died. Who? Mom, who? Was it one of the kitties?" All I had to say was "No, honey," and he immediately began his guttural screams and cries "Not, Lucy Mom. Oh, no, NOT LUCY. I didn't even get to say goodbye!" Audrey was her typical peaceful self, with a couple of tiny, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, she just wanted to know when we would get another dog. After a couple of hours of calming Dakota and placating Audrey, we did make our night out. Before we left, I took Lucy's two collars and the kids wore them around their wrists. This particulary comforted Dakota as he could still smell Lucy's fresh-rom-the-groomer scent. Over dinner we toasted to Lucy and talked about what a great dog she was and shared our favorite stories. Ice cream brought more tears so we snuggled when we got home and I let the kids sleep with me.

We had Lucy cremated and I somehow had to figure out how to thoughtfully explain this to the children without delving into the gory details. I simply said that Dr. Simpson (our vet) was turning her body into ashes so we could bury her in our yard. We do have a lot of wild creatures in our wooded land, so I continued to explain that we didn't want the other animals to dig her up. I also noted that if we ever moved, we would be able to dig the box up and take Lucy with us. They were satisfied with that idea and wanted to see her ashes when they arrived a week later. Oh, the things we do for our children! That was the first cremated anything I've ever seen, coming from a history of grave side burials. The box was heavier than I expected and the ashes were more gravel-like than soft like out of the fireplace. I wouldn't let them feel them. I just couldn't go there.

Each of us wrote Lucy a note and put it in the box with her. I couldn't fathom putting the box right in the ground (I don't know why) so I got out our handy, dandy ZipLoc bags. I triple bagged the box (seemed like a good idea at the time) and announced it was time for the burial. We had invited our two closest family friends over who really knew Lucy and had a relationship with her. My husband dug the hole under Lucy's favorite bush, I placed Lucy's box in the hole and then the 8 kids present took turns putting dirt on her. I asked them to say something nice about her when they did and in unison they began all covering her and spouting phases such as: "You were a good dog, Lucy," "Best dog of a life time." "We love you Lucy." "We will never forget you Lucy." Dakota and Audrey, with a little help from their friends, placed the stones they had made for her the week before on top of where we buried her. We all held hands in a circle and prayed. My parents were there so I had Mom pray. I couldn't possibly speak at that moment.

I was sad a few days afterwards. In fact, I get sad every once in a while for her. The grieving process is slow and steady. During the week after it happened, I would go to the door to let Lucy in and I could have sworn twice that I heard her barking and once that I saw her. One particularly sad time Audrey came to me and said, "Mom, don't be sad. Lucy is in your heart forever." (except it was actually cuter because Audrey still has speech issues: "Mom, don't be sad. Woosy is in yo hawd foevah.") Audrey believes that Lucy is now one of her Garden Fairies (an Audi-ism for Guardian Angel) and she talks to Lucy freely as if she is right there. She decided that Lucy is playing with our old cats, Hunter Boogyman and Chewy, in some beautiful place in Heaven for beloved pets. She showed me the faith of a child in its purist form and now I smile when I see Lucy's grave, knowing that she is still with me but instead of chasig turkeys, she is chasing clouds and instead of scaring away squirrels, she is scaring away nightmares. We love you, Lucy Goosey. You are the best dog of a lifetime.

Pure Pleasures

I went grocery shopping today. It is one of those necessary evils like getting a pap smear, doing laundry or cleaning up vomit. The new Nickelback song If Today was Your Last Day came on the radio and one of the first lines said: "each day's a gift, not a given right...." The synopsis of the song is that you should live your daily life as if it were your last in all that you do. This line really hit home with me; you are given the gift of another day each time you wake up in the morning. What are you going to do with it? I realized that it isn't just all the good things you should be doing with your life but also the good things you should be doing for yourself; those little things that bring a bit of joy. Driving down Route 2, I started making a mental list of what my pure pleasures are: uncomplicated things I can either do for myself or simply savor to make a bad day better or a great day fantastic.

1. Brioche roll with butter, sharp cheddar, & hard peppered salami
2. Hot day & the perfect sundress
3. Freshly manicured toes & hands
4. Clean sheet night
5. The first scoop of peanut butter out of a new jar
6. Hot bath before bed
7. Dark chocolate truffle
8. Margarita, rocks, salt
9. Cool, dark room; heavy blanket
10. Blasting Tom Petty on iPod

You wanna hear the song? Click here to listen & read lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3gAgIMuRs4&feature=related