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Today's entry is dedicated to the optimists of the world. I myself, am not included in this category of people. I tend to stress, plan like a maniac, and make contingency plans because I "know" how things work.
I am coming to redefine what I previously (and might I add prematurely) judged the optimist to be. My less than flattering sobriquet for "optimist" was "unrealistic." I then determined myself to be a realist and decided that those choosing not to see things as they "are" as having their heads in the clouds.
Here's a shocker... I married a supreme optimist. The Engineer is excellent at keeping his cool in arduous circumstances. He handles difficult people with grace and plans around failure rather than planning for the shortcomings of others. Perhaps the best picture I can paint with words is describing the ultimate test for me... the (dare I admit it).... pessimist. An amusement park.
For lack of a better vocabulary I will just say that I tend to freak out. First off, my mind goes directly to the prospect of having a missing child. If possible, I would become a magnet and put metallic t-shirts on all three of my children in order to keep them safe, secure, and by my side. The Engineer is fine with the older girls walking beside him, while I insist they have a firm grip to one adults hand. I go to a theme park packing Dramamine, antiseptic, and disposable toilet seat covers. The Engineer takes his wallet. And the list goes on...
For a long time I wondered 'Can there be anyone out there as happy go lucky as my husband?' And well this search led me to my main story and character for this blog... yes. Yes there is a person who is probably even more the optimist than my husband. That person is my sister-in-law "Malger." Below is a picture of her dressed for work on Halloween. She being a physical therapist decided to be "Wonder PT." This is just a small piece of evidence displaying her personality type.
Quick name explanation. My brother married a Melanie. I have a sister named "Melanie." A long time ago I decided that while calling someone "Sister Melanie" was appropriate in a church setting it made for a confusing family dynamic. Her maiden name was Alger. So, "M" + "Alger" = Malger.
Malger married my oldest brother "Mr. Noodle" (I will explain that name later). My brother is... well... he is a Sullivan. We Sullivan's tend to like things to be in an orderly, structured, routine fashion. Even more important is the idea that cleanliness is next to godliness (and yes, I am aware of this not being scripture). I have 8 siblings and we are (for the most part) all pretty much the same in this regard.
Malger is an experimenter, an adventurous soul willing to do things I believe are sometimes borderline insane. I don't really mean "insane" but wild. Here's a case and point story for you all at home:
My family has simple tastes in food. We like good old southern cooking with the same good old recipes that have always been used. A recipe is a plan and remember my kind likes plans. And ones that we know we like that have withstood the test of time.... we aren't too forgiving with newfangled and exotic food.
One evening, Malger decided to bake. Cookies. And I'm talking Malger-style cookies. Not your Granny's cookies. These cookies had an unusual ingredient list. Well... really there was 1 unique ingredient. Salted potato chips.
Okay I get it... sweet meets salty. Hmm....
The Saint and I drove up to Malger's house to taste the fresh outta the oven batch. When biting into the cookie The Saint was her usual saintly self stating "Oh that's different" and "it's not bad." Then there was my response. I was reluctant to try the cookies, but I was assured that both Mr. Noodle and Magler's mom, "Pegster," had tried and not hated this concoction.
I held the cookie, examined it, smelled it, and finally put it to my mouth. Trying not to be a child and take only a nibble, I decided to be "fair" and eat a normal sized bite. When she asked "Whaddaya think?" I did what I do... I told the truth. Brutally. "You know what go good with this Malger?" I asked. "A hot cup of dirt." The Saint turned red and began laughing, and in the distant background there was Pegster laughing too. I now believe that they were laughing in complete agreement and at my expense for having tasted such thing. Somehow after my opinion came out so did the truth from the other unfortunate tasters: FAIL MALGER! EPIC FAIL.
Lesson: Take chances in life... but know the limits. NEVER PUT POTATO CHIPS in cookies.
Before I get too much criticism for being overly critical let me say the following. I did not dash Malger's baking career. In fact, she has left the cookie arena and cornered the market on doing cakes. Her most recent creation was a "Family Game Night" theme for my nephew's 6th birthday:
Pretty good, eh? Yeah despite the cookie debacle, I am happy to report that Malger has bounced back to her chipper self and is able to create cool, creative, and chip free cakes. And they taste just like cakes should.
So... back to my point. There are always going to be optimists. I am never going to be one of them. But I have learned something. Neither The Engineer nor Malger are unaware of failure. They are willing to try something new and brave. While they may seem
haphazard to the "realist" they possibly see life more realistically. Clear as mud, right? Let me explain:
While I continue to maintain that failing to plan is planning to fail... it's not at all "realistic" to count on failure in every situation and expect to be happy at the end of the day. And while we may not be happy all the time God created the emotion because happiness is a part of living. Every day given to us is an opportunity to find joy in the journey.
"A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22
God doesn't want us to take ourselves too seriously. And I think kids are a perfect example of God's sense of humor. My daughter Megan once told me "God is a funny guy because He made the duckbill platypus and that's one crazy looking thing." Google it... and I betcha you'll crack a smile. And if that doesn't work... make a batch of potato chip cookies.
Looking on the bright side and not for the pitfalls.
I may get a lot of nasty responses from this post because I am going to discuss kids and bathing. WARNING: BODY PARTS WILL BE DISCUSSED in this blog. Proceed with CAUTION. And I don't know how the rest of the world does things, but when my kids are little they generally like to bathe together.
Now my nearly 7 year olds have passed what I believe is the acceptable threshold for company in the tub, but I thought that my 2 year old Miss Fabulous had another 2-3 years left of un-awkward bath times left in her. WRONG!
My nephew who is almost 3, whom I refer to as "Brutus" is just that... a brute. His size and personality fit this identity. Brutus and Miss Fabulous always have wonderful adventures together and sometimes the best adventures happen at bath time.
Now mind you my kids don't see my nephews all the time. We live almost 4 hours away, but when they reunite during visits they are inseparable. Another useful fact is that my girls are rarely around boys.
On a recent visit, Miss Fabulous and Brutus had enjoyed a fun filled day of activity and messiness and I needed to bathe them. Two birds one tub. Simple and innocent... NO.
Brutus took to the water like a fish, and Miss Fabulous had to dip her toes in first to make sure the water was the appropriate ratio of not too hot, not too cold prior to entry. Once in the tub both were sitting and I grabbed bubble bath and toys.
It was at this moment that Miss Fabulous tilted her head sideways and precariously looked at Brutus in a whole new light. She unashamedly pointed "there" and asked him "Hey.... what's thaaat?" I won't get into the whole conversation of what Brutus told her because I don't know where the ethical lines are with kids and body parts. But long story short he stood up and explained that "that" was something that he "pecked" things with.
And that was the day I decided boys and girls should never bathe together. No matter how old or young. Now please... don't get too offended or outraged... I look at this situation 3 ways.
(1). Lesson learned for me: answer a question before my 2 year old nephew gives his version.
(2). Teach kids about different body parts... young (preferably before they can speak).
(3). Be glad that Izzie got the version she did, because the Twins heard a variation on the playground in Pre-K and were afraid to eat hot dogs for a month.
Oh and I guess here's an extra:
(4). Don't take it too seriously. At the end of the day... you sometimes have to laugh at the uncomfortableness that happens in life.
So from now on the adventures of Brutus and Miss Fabulous will remain OUTSIDE of the bathtub and in full wardrobe. In the end... this opened the door to teaching Isabelle about the Genesis story, and importantly... THE VALUE OF A GOOD FIG LEAF.
"Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction."
1 Corinthians 10:11a. ESV
Laughing and learning on this adventure in motherhood, and taking all of the above into account.
Long time no blogging. That has been due to a computer problem which I am glad to say is now fixed (obviously). Now I have lots of back logged blogs, (can I just call them "back blogs"), that are ready for pictures and publishing. So when you see a number of them being posted all in one day... don't worry I still have a life, but my obsessive nature will not allow me to patiently post them one at a time. I want to get life moving FORWARD.
UPDATES... UPDATES... UPDATES!
Are you wondering how my summer "list" is going? Well... my backhand springing is on hold indefinitely. My hair is still growing (hoping to cut and donate soon), my nephews did in fact come for a week long visit, and my SIL finally had the newest nephew (Carter) aka "Carter Cat." All of these things will be discussed in further detail in the back blogs, I promise.
So I am in "today" mode and want to talk about my dog "Nala." She's an almost 7 month old yellow Labrador retriever with an unabashed ambition for living. "Nala-girl" (as she is often called), has been an awesome dog and an awesome responsibility. Most people hear me say I have a lab an immediately say "Oh, you have a Marley." My answer is simply... yes and no.
She doesn't eat dry wall, she doesn't have an attraction to poodles, and she is fairly well mannered (she is afterall, still a puppy). Nala does likes to chase birds, and she thinks every dog is ready to play. Like most pets, she has officially made her place as part of the family. So much so that I think at times she believes she's human...
What most people don't know about Nala is that her name could have easily been "Therapy" instead. I have always wanted a dog to join our family (specifically a Labrador). In retrospect, I believe only God knows why.
It took a little more than a year to get The Engineer on board. After reading every imaginable Lab book, checking out breeders, and finally begging he caved. We were set to bring our puppy home somewhere in the January/February range. Then October came and a stick surprisingly turned blue, and I knew the puppy pipe dream had ended.
We coasted through November and sailed to December 22. Ultrasound day. That's the day my world stopped turning and I was scheduled for surgery just after the Christmas holiday passed. Coincidentally 12/22 was the same day Nala was born. In an attempt to cheer me up my husband said "If you still want to, we can get the puppy." To which I did not respond. To be honest, I really didn't care.
By mid-January I was physically better, and started to entertain the idea of the little yellow fuzz ball moving in. Just two days before the "1 month later" mark my sister called to let me know that my grandmother had died in her home.
We committed to getting the only female yellow puppy shortly after.
So now it should be no surprise as to why my dog named "Nala" is jokingly referred to as "Therapy." She provided me with distraction from the disaster.
To say the least she is everything I had hoped for (and LOTS more). She is now a stealth 47 lbs of canine craziness. And just like everything else that happens in life she is a lesson.
Here's a story to help me explain myself:
Once, Micayla fell off her bike and gashed her knee wide open. Blood, tears, panic, and crying sang in perfect 4 part harmony in seconds. However, I had a means to end it all. Not a band aid, not a kiss, but a dum-dum lollipop. Opening that strawberry sucker did not end the bleeding or the hurt but it calmed the calamity. Distraction.
I think God challenges us in the hurt and broken places that life takes us. One of the wonderful things about the way we are created is our ability to feel pain but have the capacity to see outside of it. Sometimes that seems impossible. I know for me in that moment it was completely impossible. That's when God distracts us.
Most of the time the word "distraction" carries a negative connotation. I'm happy to report there is an exception. Sometimes we are busted open, bleeding, crying out to God to "fix it" and He pulls out a "lollipop" to take our minds off of the situation. LESSON: While God CAN supernaturally fix anything... He knows it's sometimes better for us to refocus elsewhere and begin healing on our own.
James 1:2-4
“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing." (NLT)
Sometimes distractions are a good thing. And they may just be the hand of God presenting an opportunity.
Thankful for lollipops, my puppy, and divine distraction. And a fixed computer.
