Wonder Woman = Me

When my children were little and learning to walk, I'd hold their hands and help them steady themselves so they couldn't crash to the floor. Then, they'd get to the point where they'd walk without me. Sometimes it would work well ... and sometimes there would be a crash. Unfortunately, I wasn't always fast enough to protect them and those little guys would wind up with a skinned knee, or a fat lip, or even worse. I'd scoop them up, hold them close, put a band-aid on the boo-boo, and kiss away their tears. I felt like Wonder Woman because I could make it all better for them. Life seemed so simple back then.

My children are all adults now. Well, the law tells me they're adults because of their ages, but they'll always be my babies to me. They consistently walk without me nowadays. I find that I don't like it much more than I did when they were little. The problem now, though, is that when they fall, there's a lot more at stake than just a skinned knee. My reaction is the same: I want to swoop in and fix all of the problems. I want to put band-aids on things to fix them. I want to scare away the boogey man. I want to beat up the bad guy. I want to have all the answers. I want to be Wonder Woman again.

But I can't. In fact, no one can be that for them -- no one but God. As much as I want to take care of them, God wants to even more. As much as I love them and want to watch over them, God does even more. As much as they're deep within my heart, so they are with God. He loves them. He wants to fill them up. He wants to have a close, personal, intimate relationship with them.  And, if I'm doing my job correctly, I learn to watch and pray ... to teach and train ... to lead and let go ... because the perfect Parent will be alongside my adult child to walk with him wherever he goes, no matter what direction that may be. I have total confidence that God will teach my children His absolute truth. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has and will continue to extend his incredible grace. I believe with all I am that God is amazingly good and that He has a perfect plan for each one of my kids. But even more, I am convinced that God loves them and my love is a poor comparison to His where my children are concerned.

Yeah, being Wonder Woman was nice for a while, but Wonder Woman can only do so much. Wonder Woman gets old ... and gray .. and tired ... and smarter! She sees that it was never really SHE that was doing the protecting anyway. It was God all along, and He's just continuing as he's always done. And for a retired Wonder Woman, that is a wonderful thing to know!

From a Future Dead Author

Eventually I'm going to write a book some day. I talk about it a lot. And I have a lot of great plans. But yeah, I never quite get around to it. I have several books that I'm going to write, though. Of course, I've planned fantastic titles for them already ...

A book about middle age will be called, When I Cough, I Pee. Yes, I've mentioned that title before in an earlier post and I'm sure you thought I was just joking. This will be a best-seller, ladies and gentlemen!! We'll finally unwrap all of the mystery, fear, and lessons regarding middle-age and all of the trials, joys, and incredible wisdom (?) that goes along with it.

A book about parenting adult children will be entitled, From M.O.P.S. to P.O.T.S to P.O.O.P. In other words, from Mothers of Preschoolers to Parents of Teenagers to Parents of Older People. I have no idea why bathroom language manages to show up in some of my titles. Maybe because I'm not very mature? Can you tell that I had three boys? We'll discover how to be the best parent you can possibly be to your children as they grow and how to survive the letting go process -- not that I was the best parent. I definitely learned what NOT to do!

A book about different lessons that God has taught me called Finding Me in Him (Living the Parable Filled Life). We'll see how God uses mice in our pantry, trees by a creek, and road caution signs to teach truths about Him. We'll also see how God continues to teach even when some of us (Okay, I admit it -- I'm talking about me here) are not necessarily continuing to learn ... and how He may use different objects, different times, and different circumstances to teach us the same dang lesson that we're not wanting to learn. (Yes, still talking about me!) ::Sigh!::

It all sounds good, doesn't it? Unfortunately, that's all I've got. .Just titles and a few ideas, but absolutely nothing that would fill enough pages for a book. So, I continue to scribble ideas and plug away on my computer. I write down lessons learned and pour out thoughts on paper. I figure one of these days, when I'm long gone, my kids (or grandkids or great grandkids or person hired to go through all of my junk and stuff before throwing it away) will stumble upon this "treasure trove" and will have my works published posthumously. I will then be a famous (dead) author of the best seller book, Coughing and Peeing Through M.O.P.S, P.O.T.S, and P.O.O.P's Parable Filled Life. Reserve your copy now.

Quirky Little Habits

I notice the little things about people. My husband says that it's because I'm anal and picky and super-crazy about details. But it's really just that I'm observant. Doesn't that sound much nicer? Regardless of what you call it, it's noticing things. Here are some examples (and I'm going to pick on my husband because I seem to notice "stuff" where he's concerned. The main reason I'm going to pick on him though is because he calls me anal and I don't like that. That just sounds icky.):

My husband has to constantly move his feet. Whether he's sitting there watching TV or laying in bed trying to go to sleep, his foot is bouncing ... all the time. It used to drive me nuts and I'd actually put my foot over his in an attempt to get him to be still. All that did was to drive HIM nuts because he couldn't move his foot. Poor guy. I've matured since then. Now he can wiggle his foot all he wants -- I'm fine, he's fine, we're all fine.

When we're all sitting at the dinner table and Wes wants to get a word in edgewise, he'll hold his fork up and start drumming in the air. Yes, that sounds a little strange. But all of our family will turn to him and give him our attention before he even starts to talk. A time or two, he's looked at us like we were crazy because suddenly we were all just staring at him and he had no idea why, until we explained the "drumming fork".

Wes is not the loud, talkative, overly expressive one in the family. I know. Hard to believe, huh?! Even when he laughs, it's not this loud, booming cackle like his wife's laugh (sorry, dear! Thanks for loving me anyway!). In fact, we've talked over the years how he's a lot like a cartoon character when he laughs. His shoulders move ... his eyes crinkle up ... and he laughs ... without noise. It's amazing to me how you can laugh without making noise! I need to take some lessons ...

As much as I love my foot-wiggling, fork-drumming, silent laughing husband, there are other folks who are almost as interesting. People in the grocery store who have conversations with themselves about which products to get are fairly entertaining. And no, they're not weird, psychotic people who have inner voices (at least, I don't think so). They seem to be sane, regular people ... just talking away to themselves about groceries. Personally, I try to not do this myself ... but to each his own, right? And occasionally you'll see a shopper who enjoys singing as they walk up and down the aisles, looking for the grape jelly that Wal-Mart moved.

Go in to my son's or daughter's room and move something. I dare you. The room might be an absolute pit that looks like a tornado just blew through it, but they'll notice that something has been moved and not put back quite right. My husband says it's obsessive-compulsive disorder. I just take pride that they're detail oriented, too ... like me ... and like God!

And then there's me. I have several of these nasty little habits -- like I'll be thinking of something or having a little conversation IN MY HEAD (I'm still not at the point of some people in the grocery store) and will suddenly blurt out to whoever I'm with what I'm thinking, like we've been talking about it all along. It's not until I see the blank stare on their face that I realize they have no idea what I'm talking about. In fact, I've done this pretty much all of my life and still haven't learned to quit doing it! OR, I finish a lot of my sentences with "There ya go." It's like I need to encourage anyone I'm talking to, or at least fill the air with the sound of my voice. "Oh! You found the toothpaste. There ya go!" ... "Yes, he hit a curb and had to get his tire fixed. There ya go." What in the world is that about? It doesn't even make sense to me! But I seem to say it all the time. (Notice how most of my quirky habits have to do with talking? Hmmmmm.)

It all boils down to the fact that we all have these little weird habits -- clearing our throats, wrinkling our noses when we think, sticking our tongue out as we write, cracking our knuckles, incessantly talking. It's just how we are. The most amazing thing about it though is that God notices all the little details about us. The Bible tell us that He even knows how many hairs are on our head ... and if He can tell how many hairs were on my head and then how many hairs went down the drain in the shower, that's really impressive! He knows me ... He knows you ... He knows each one of us even better than we know ourselves. For me, there's great security in knowing that God knows me exactly as I am ... and that He still loves me, in spite of all of my quirky little habits. There ya go!

Age and Wisdom

There have been a lot of things written (mostly by me) about the horrors of middle-age -- whinings comments of wrinkles, age spots, flabby bellies, gray hair, near-sightedness, or chin hairs. Unfortunately, all of those things are true for SOME people (not necessarily me. Pleeeeeease tell me that those don't apply to me ... even if it's not true. It'll just make me feel better.) But you know what? With age comes wisdom. I've heard that somewhere, and it's constantly repeated (primarily by older people), so it must be true, right?! The more I ponder on that little statement, I think it's got to be true. And here's why.

Go to a club and you won't find older, middle-aged people gyrating and grinding up against a stranger on the dance floor. Why? For one reason, gyrating can cause you to throw a hip out. Secondly, middle-aged people tend to be a little wary of strangers, and grinding on one isn't particularly the smartest thing to do because he might be an ax murderer. Lastly, most middle-aged people don't stay up much past 10:30 (which is considered extremely early in "club time") because they've come to realize the true beauty and value of sleep over the years.

Think about it. It's not the middle-aged man who's arrested at the ball park for stripping off all of his clothes and streaking across the field. It's not the middle-aged woman who is kidnapped at 3:00 in the morning because she's walking down the alley alone to get to her car. It's not the middle-aged man who is charged with vandalism because he was painting his name on the town's water tower. It's not the middle-aged woman who is arrested and has her car towed because she was driving 50 miles over the speed limit with her fellow middle-aged friends leaning out the windows yelling at other cars as they drove by. Middle-agers are past that. Many of them have "been there, done that" and are grateful to have simply survived.

Excitement in life is nice. But once you hit middle-age, safety and security become even MORE nice (or nicer, if you prefer good grammar). Middle-aged people would like to think they're going to actually make it to the next stage of life, so they tend to think of ways to do this. Examples of this might be: to NOT put your make-up on while you're driving to work ... to NOT crawl out of a moving vehicle and climb on the car's roof just to see what it's like to ride ON a car and not IN a car ... to NOT mouth off to the extremely big, angry guy standing next to you in line. Middle-aged people think, maybe sometimes too much, but still, they think. And that's a good thing.

So, the next time you spot one of those pesky chin hairs, or you try to run to cross a busy street but your "get-up-and-go" doesn't cooperate and you look like you're doing nothing but flailing in the middle of the road, celebrate in your wisdom! You've made it this far! We middle-aged folks need to embrace the adage "with age comes widom". Someone's got to ...

When I Cough ...

There are stages of life that no one prepares you for. If you're a teenager, there are books about driving, self-esteem, dating, not dating, blah blah blah. If you're a new mom, there are probably ten trillion (maybe a slight exaggeration) books dedicated to caring for a newborn -- how to get a baby to sleep, how to get a baby to eat, how to toilet train, how to parent multiple children, etc. Think of something in this area and I'm willing to bet there will be a book about it. There's books on marriage, books on finance, books on death and dying, books on educating yourself and your children. But why, oh why, are there not books on this huge, broad area of middle-age?

Let me answer my own question. The first and most obvious answer is because everyone who IS middle-aged is in denial and thinks they're not quite there yet. If someone admits to it, he is most definitely middle-aged and is really probably closer to senior citizen status. Another answer is because no one really cares about middle-age (except for the person who's stuck in it, confused and dazed!). It's really not a subject that people particularly want to read up on and discuss. But I think the REAL answer is because it's always been a conspiracy. The older generation had such a hard time dealing with it that they thought it would be funny for the following generation to be blindsided by everything, so middle-aged issues were kept hush-hush.

Seriously, what woman wants to read a book about chin hairs, hot flashes, broadening waists and hips, and blurry eyes. Society tells us to cover up age spots, shoot up wrinkles with Botox, dye our gray hair, and buy head-to-toe Spandex to wear under our clothes. Let's get down to the honest truth here. Which book would be more apt to be on a best-seller's list: My Hot Romantic Encounters or When I Cough, I Pee?

I've thought about writing a book for people who are entering middle-age. It would be required reading for everyone after the age of 35, because like it or not, middle-age is pounding on the door at that age. We would NOT discuss people like Michelle Pfeiffer, Demi Moore, or Sharon Stone. Why? Because they're either airbrushed in their magazines, have had multiple plastic surgeries that the rest of us middle-agers can only dream about, or they're just too naturally pretty to be counted anyway. We would certainly NOT discuss middle-aged rockers like Mick Jagger or Steven Tyler for the simple reason that they're in their 60's but still dress and act like their 20-year-old versions, and they're so far in denial of middle-age that they don't count either. No, we'd focus on the REAL middle-aged people. People like me. The ones who think they still have blond in their hair (until their hairdresser informs them that the blond is actually gray, or a "mature blond" as it is more correctly called) ... the ones who try to read the newspaper and wonder when they started using such a small font ... the ones who look down at their hands and think, "When did I get my grandma's hands?"

Of course, there aren't any answers for middle-age. It just happens while you're living your life. One day you're changing diapers and wiping noses ... and the next day you're checking out costs of colonoscopies and complaining because commercials are way too loud on TV. You go from dancing at clubs to falling asleep on the couch after Dancing With the Stars is over. The top thing to realize though is that you're no longer cool. In fact, you're so far from cool, you're hot ... but not hot in the good way that kids talk about. You're so hot that you're pretty much fizzled out.

And you need a book, dang it! I need a book! I say we pool our wisdom and resources, put down all of our collected observances about middle-age, and prepare the next generation of suckers youngsters who think this aging process will never happen to them (just like we thought it would never happen to us). We have knowledge that MUST be passed on to those who are coming after us, and it would sure be nice of us to let them know what they're in for. We've already got the title (When I Cough, I Pee) so we're part-way there...

Diets ... Uhm, Lifestyle Changes

I can't help it. All I can think about today is food. Sweet food. Crunchy food. Chocolate food. Anything but healthy food. That's what happens when you go on a diet change your lifestyle and eat "healthy". ::Sigh!:: I wanna stuff my face with all kinds of fattening, sweet, calorie-laden, guilty pleasure food items. But I can't. I'm working towards walking down the aisle at my son's wedding ... and I don't want the fat rolls jiggling as I dance. (For clarification purposes, I'll be dancing at the reception -- not as I'll be walking down the aisle.) So, in the meantime, I'll think and dream of those foods ... and have a few nibbles and obediently count them towards my limit for the day, because that's what we people on diets who have changed their life styles do ...

Sauerkraut

I wound up being the only person in my office today. It was just me ... and my sauerkraut. Yes, I admit it -- I like sauerkraut. No one at my home can stand it. They hate the look of it. They hate the taste of it. They particularly hate the smell of it. So, I never fix it ... just because I'm a heck of a person. That and I don't want to listen to all of the griping and complaining. Since no one was going to be in the office today, I took a big ole' bowl of sauerkraut to eat for lunch, with a side of pickled beets, a cup of artichoke hearts, and some strawberries for dessert. Yes, my office now smells like it is filled with dirty diapers and a decomposing corpse. I'm here alone, so no one else is suffering. But, I enjoyed my lunch, thank you very much!