What I Would Say? Should I Say? [RANT]

Lately, my mind is filled with words I would say. My brain chases these words up and down its halls, wanting to free them. I keep them to myself for fear of inadvertently insulting someone or being misunderstand. So I thought I would post them here. I hope they offer some nugget of hope or clarity. Maybe the person who inspired each of these thoughts will actually get a chance to read them and be uplifted.

For those I love who no longer see themselves when they look in the mirror:

I love you. I know you look in a mirror and see your imperfections, but I see the person I love. You may have aged since we first met, but I see your youth, vibrance, and inner beauty. I don't care if your hair is out of place or your makeup is smeared. I just want to spend time with you. I gather people have the same feelings about my house, despite the transients who apparently live in my living room and love board books.

Please don't try to keep me away when I say I want to see you. Accept my request to visit for what it is and let me see the person I see. Maybe, you'll be able to see that beautiful soul too.

For the good husbands/wives of my friends:

Even though we have never met, I adore you. When your spouse speaks of you, it is with great respect and love. You help raise their children as if they truly were your own flesh and blood. The effect you have on my friend, bringing hope and inspiration, encouraging them to be better every day,  and standing by them even in the most difficult circumstances, makes me so glad you found each other.

Furthermore, when I see other people insulting or attacking you, I want to leap to your defense. Don't let them make you question what your marriage brings to the world. Dump those "friends". Find more friends who see the incredible person I see. Spend time with people who are inspired by your strong marriage and obvious love, respect, and affection for each other. To me, you are part of the good in the world.

For people who think I am ignoring them:

I'm not ignoring you. Life sometimes sends me running to keep up with what I absolutely must do. If my daughter needs me in the middle of my bustling, I stop. She doesn't understand that mommy needs to teach a class, wash the dishes, fold the laundry, or run to the bathroom. I assume adults have the emotional maturity to understand that sometimes I can't stop to chat. Try setting up a "play date" with me instead of trying to stop me when I am racing to the church class that I teach, trying to grab the week's groceries between my daughter's feedings, or weaving through the throng to find my seat and prepare for sacrament meeting.

For the parent who thinks they are failing at parenting:

Are you giving your child love? Do you provide them food, clothing, and shelter? Do they smile when they see you and reach out to you? Do they call for you when bad dreams or hunger disrupt their day? Are you offering support (moral, physical, financial) to your parenting partner?
If you are caring for your child's basic needs, you are a good parent. If you are making sacrifices for your child, you are a great parent.

Remember to take care of yourself while you are caring for your little ones. They need you here for them much more than they need you to buy them expensive toys and Disney vacations. Be kind to yourself. Don't put yourself down or let yourself belief that your all isn't enough. If you didn't love your babies, you wouldn't care or feel guilty for "not doing enough". Just keep being the best parent you can be and don't compare yourself to anyone else.

To my readers:

I hope you are enjoying these tidbits from my mind. Like most people, I appreciate a little feedback and this blog has a comment section for that reason. Which types of posts do you like best? What will bring you back time after time to see what words have flowed from week to week?

Commence Clowning [FICTION]

My reflection gazes back at me nervously from the glass. I force a wide grin and trace my lips with red grease paint, accentuating pulling the corners up my smile toward my ears. As I finish, I flash another toothy grin. Then my eyes wander across the rest of my features. Beads of sweat dot my pale forehead. I blot them away and generously apply white grease paint. I move downward, gently tracing around my rouged smile. When I finish, my own face disappears, replaced by Daisy, the sweet clown with the bright orange, Gerber daisy encircling her left eye.

“You’re ready for this,” I pause for emphasis, “Valedictorian.”

I gently push the red foam circle of my chosen profession over my nose. The year 2016 sprawls across its surface in thin, glittery script. I step out of my private dressing room.

A tiny red car, the child of a Smart car and a Volkswagen Beetle, greets me. I plop down behind the oversized steering wheel, squeezing my humongous shoes into place to push on the gas pedal. As I lean forward, I bump the horn. A blast of excited beeps, wails, and whistles erupts around me. Fueled by the clamor, I drive wildly toward the center ring where our graduating class awaits my wise words.

I release a lever and shoot out of the top of the car, landing on a trampoline covered in pillows. When I finally manage to gain control of my bouncing, I bounce to the edge of the trampoline and jump gracefully to the ground. I step behind the neon green podium, kicking away more than a few errant banana peels.

Dozens of ghostly faces gaze back at me. Most wear exaggerated smiles, some weep cheerfully, while a few in the back freeze the blood in my veins. Someday, they might channel their clown genius toward a more attainable goal like heavy metal music, inspiring horror writers, and keeping little kids on the straight and narrow path.

“Sorry, I couldn’t slip in sooner,” I begin with a pointed look at another slimy banana peel that sails through the air to land on the podium, “But I didn’t reach the top of the class by falling prey to substandard pranks.

“Top of the class. Top of the totem pole. Driver of the tiniest car in existence. This is what I aspired for. This what I attained.”

A chorus of honks echoes across the assembled crowd.

“Thank you for that. I know we all learned the same jokes, slipped on the same banana peels, and covered our faces with the same grease paint, but the future holds more than that for each of us. You may not be valedictorian, but you are something better…”

A silent hush falls as smiling faces focus on me, anticipating the promise I am about to offer.

“You are the hope of tomorrow. You are the reason children will laugh through their tears or cry in their beds. You are the smiling faces that keep the bulls from goring unwanted riders and sell circus peanuts though they aren’t real nuts like us.

“You are the next generation of clowns. When children mourn their lost chance to see elephants on parade, you will cheer them up. When tiny cars need dozens of passengers, you will fill them. When tiny pools beg to be dived into from hundreds of feet up, you will take that dive…”

I pause, clasping my hands together and stretching my body as if I am about to make that fabulous leap.

“And the world will laugh with you. Go forth and bring hysterics to the world.”

Exaggerated laughter fills the air. Foam noses fill the air. Water sprays from dozens of brightly colored flowers. I step back from the podium.

“Ack.” I squeal as I slide backwards to land on my backside to an even louder, unfeigned round of laughter.

I owed someone some fiction and I had some writing prompts begging for attention. I hope you enjoy.

Trust Your Diaper Changer

I like to believe my daughter trusts me. She reaches for me when her teeth attack her gums from the inside. She calls for me when bad dreams push her from sleep. She watches intently as I spoon pureed veggies from a bowl and opens her mouth as the spoon approaches. She also shows a surprising lack of concern about her dirty diapers.While other babies loudly proclaim the wetness of dirtiness of their bottom covers, she waits patiently for me to realize how long it has been since I last checked. That's trust. Extreme trust.

While she voices requests for food every couple of hours, other needs remain at my discretion to field. More often than I like, my brain startles me with a calculation of the time elapsed since the last diaper change. Then I must  solve the mystery--does she require a change or not? As I try to take note of the many nonverbal cues she provides, I feel a little like Jeff Foxworthy. I shall list a few of my observations for your education and/or amusement.

If that diaper is sagging,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If it looks as if someone is smuggling tiny water balloons,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the smell of baby powder changes to something less baby fresh,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the diaper becomes a heat source,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the little fingers can't stop pinching the front of the diaper,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If a volley of trumpet blasts erupts from below,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If people cover their noses and back away from you,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If the clothing or diaper changes colors,
the baby might need a diaper change.

If your lap suddenly feels warm and/or squishy,
the baby might need a diaper change.

(And, yes, my neck is so very, very red.)

Dusted [FICTION]

Time to dust off what terrifies us and open those shades to let in the maddening light of the full moon...

Fanny glanced up from her chemistry book as Kit enters the room. The slight smile formed by sudden understanding disappeared as her eyes rested on the worn, blue duster in her roommate's hand.

"I've told you not to do that while I'm home. It sets off my allergies." 

"Are you planning to go out today?" Kit smiled and shook the duster encouragingly.

"I haven't decided yet." Fanny reached for the tissues with her eyes fixed intently on the dust dancing off the end of the duster.

"Alright." Kit sighed and disappeared back into her room.

Fanny returned her attention to her book. She didn't look up when Kit noisily made her exit a few minutes later. She continued to focus on her studies, slowly turning the pages as if nothing else existed by elements and molecules. As the shadows crawled across the floor, her eyes drooped. The battle ended, her eyes closed, and the book slid to the floor. The shadows continued to crawl across the ratty carpet as Fanny snored lightly.

Fanny jolted awake, staring wide-eyed into the darkness in search of the alarm that pulled her from dreamland. Only the red light on the television broke the darkness of the room. A soft glow seeped through the light curtains from outside. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, a movement under the couch caught her eye.

The chemistry book dug into her knee as she slid to the floor and leaned forward for a better look. As her palms touched the floor, the movement stopped. She leaned closer. Without the motion, she couldn't discern anything under the couch. Crawling on her hands and knees she warily approached until her forehead bumped against the rough, floral upholstery.

"There's nothing there." She said loudly to reassure herself.

The breath that chased her words disturbed something under the couch. She squinted as a dust bunny floated back to the dark carpet and came to rest. She stared at it for a moment before shaking her head. With one last glance under the couch, she slowly pushed herself back until she sat cross-legged on the floor. She waited.

She caught more movement out of the corner of her eye. This time, the bodies stayed in motion when her eyes rested on her. A swarm of dust bunnies rolled out from under the couch. As they drew closer, she noticed little legs and tiny arms. Those wispy arms seemed to wave in a formation until they all pointed at her. A wispy voice like an imagined whisper on the wind filled the air.

"You should have let her whisk us away."

Fanny's mouth dried out in an instant. Her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She pushed herself up from the floor. The dust bunnies continued to approach. The closer they got, the more detail caught her attention. Rows of tiny, sharp teeth sprouted at random on malformed bodies. Dark spots could be eyes or tumors. Fanny shuddered and looked away.

As her eyes turned toward the ceiling, she noticed more dust bunnies dancing along the blades of the ceiling fan. Encouraged by her attention, they began to leap from their high perch.

They floated gracefully to land on Fanny's face. She tried to scream but, as they landed, they swarmed over her mouth, effectively smothering her cries for help. She coughed. She sneezed. She swatted at the dust bunnies as more and more of them appeared from under every piece of furniture or leaped from on high. The pressure of her hands forced them together, creating larger dust bunnies that laughed and nibbled at her flesh. Soon, Fanny disappeared into a giant dust bunny that danced with every sneeze or cough that emanated from the remains of its human skeleton. 

Does It Take So Much? [RANTING]

Is this the post that moves from ranting to raving? Have I finally slid off my cracker and landed in the nuthouse? Or am I just an old soul who got lost with one foot inside the door of the future and now doesn't know whether to keep going forward or pull that foot back?

I've been reflecting on the loss of proper etiquette as we try to stay connected to friends and family who have scattered across the world. Keeping in touch should be easy with technology to aid us, but what should be an advantage can prove a hindrance for a variety of reasons. As I reflect upon them, I hope to improve my own communication as well as inspire others to be a little old-fashioned and think of how their interactions change the world around them.

First, we don't value written communication as much as we once did. Many of my friends grew up in a time before the value of words dropped from everything to nothing. They remember to mail cards for birthdays and anniversaries as well as the obligatory Christmas card. They may even give in to the temptation to reconnect for Easter or Halloween. And, of course, they send heartfelt thank you cards for everything. Inspired by such examples, I wrote personalized thank you cards for every gift I received at my baby shower before I had a chance to forget, some even got to their recipient within three days. Many people expressed surprise when I hand-delivered my gratitude. A couple even laughingly advised me that I should have claimed "baby brain" and never expressed my thanks.

This leads into my second observation, the new norm involves planning to respond when it is more convenient or conveniently forgetting. As a new mom, this has happened more than I care to admit. You read an email, start to formulate an answer, and then the crying starts. After offering comfort or food or cleaning up an explosion (poop-xplosion?), you forget to finish your missive. When prompted again to provide an answer, I include an apology with a quickly-worded response. By this point, I assume questions will follow if my response proves illogical or doesn't cover all the questions. I try not to get defensive about the repeat question. After all, I have needed to ask followup questions on more than one occasion. When the response proved defensive, I tried to smooth the ruffled feathers. When I still didn't get the answer or got another angry response, I confess I've let some friendships lapse. It shouldn't feel like a full-time job to get an answer to a simple question, especially when a "yes", "no", or "I'll have to check" would easily set my worries to rest.

My third difficulty comes as a result of so many available ways to communicate. Should I tweet, email, message, text, call, snapchat, send smoke signals...? Once someone establishes their preferred method of communication, exchanging information and extending invites becomes much easier. Though some people still refuse to respond no matter how careful you are to use the appropriate means of contact. Is it hard to be honest about how you wish to be contacted? 

THERE'S MORE:

In order to clarify for those who may wonder why so many people don't want to talk to a charmer like me, I should provide additional information. My church (The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) has a couple of programs that I compare to a phone tree. The program for women goes by the moniker "visiting teaching". Two women receive a list with a couple of names of other sisters in their local church (ward). They are counseled to visit those sisters each month, bring them a message, and make sure their needs, both spiritual and temporal, are being met. They report back to another sister (supervisor) who reports back to the head (president) of the women's organization of the church (Relief Society). In this way, any needs or concerns can be met without the Relief Society President needing to call the hundred plus women in her ward each month. (Men participate in a similar program called "home teaching". They get the added responsibility of teaching entire families).

As one of the supervisors, I need to contact other women from my ward to ask if they visited with the sisters on their list. Sadly, real life often keeps us from making the ideal visit (set up an appointment, arrive early to briefly meet with the sister helping you teach, knock on the door, go inside, chat a little to see how the sister and her family are doing, have an opening prayer, have a lesson, see if there is something you can do to help, have a closing prayer, present a treat). At the moment that we are being asked to account for our faithfulness in visiting teaching, we can become defensive. After a few months, creative methods must be used to avoid speaking to the person who keeps prompting us to admit our shortcomings. As the person being avoided, my feelings get hurt from time to time and some months I send one email and then try to catch them in person where I hope my smile can assure them that I come in peace.

WHAT CAN I DO?

My quick take on what I can do regardless of which side of the communication barrier I stand:

1. Be honest. Be honest about what you need and how you feel.
2. Be consistent. Don't change your opinion on how you want to contacted every day or get upset when someone calls when you said to call or emails when you said to email.
3. Be polite. Don't resort to name calling or nasty jabs. Just repeat your question if you must or send a short civil response.
4. Be empathetic. We don't all think alike, so keep in mind that the person you are communicating with may think differently than you and take that into account before sending off a nasty email or letting your feelings be hurt.
5. Respond promptly. Even if you only have time to send a "yes" or a "no", that lets the person know you got their message. Also, that frequently answers the question and lets the other person move forward. (And if you must do some research, try to get that done and your findings reported as swiftly as possible. It clears up your backlog of tasks to complete, too.) I've seen some wise advice that may help in most of these situations: only look at an email, text, etc. once. Respond immediately and move onto to the next missive.

Should I say more???

Cat Haikus [POETRY]

Willing paws will shred
The bark on the old oak tree
Before feathers fly

*

A hiss and a growl
Before grey and white fur fly
And snarls rend the air

*

A sweet face rubs yours
As a gentle purr erupts
Savage beast shows love

*

Crouch in the tall grass
Until the rodent goes by
Then tear his world apart

*

Brown wall yields easy
Silent warrior takes the foot
Of bipedal beast

The month could not end without one more poetic post and what could have been better than these cat haikus?

Step Outside [POETRY]

You disagree? Let's step outside
Want to fight me? Step outside
Don't understand? Step outside
Take my hand. We'll step outside

Step outside our small minds
Step outside arbitrary lines
Try to see the way I do
I will try to see more like you

We still won't see eye to eye
But maybe if we really try
We could learn to compromise
Based on truth not ancient lies

So speak truth, listen for peace
One step forward gives new lease
On lives that bring us closer to
People who are not quite like me or you