Tales from the pasture...

Monday - already?  Last week I had an extra day and a half off and boy did I enjoy that!  We won't talk about how it makes Monday that much more devastating to face (slam the alarm clock!)

I have a lot to fill you in on.

Last Monday was my daughter's first riding lesson.  Guys, she did awesome.  The trainer she is working with is simply amazing - a whisperer if you will.

My daughter had been extremely afraid after being thrown off Molly.  She wouldn't even touch a horse after that happened.  When Prissy Buns came to live in the pasture my little girl was still a nervous wreck. Though she did attempt to get back in the saddle she was overcome with fear. I'm not kidding when I say she was out just as quick as she was up.

Being her mom I'm somewhat (I think and hope) in tune with her and I could tell she wanted to ride.  There was the fear from having trusted an animal and it not-so-gently letting her down but there was also something in her actions around the same animal that said she wanted to do it.

She was just overcome by fear.

Last Monday I was nervous for my girl C. Lately I have noticed she is becoming less self confident and my mama heart was breaking.  Her excitement for the lesson was off the charts but in the back of my mind I worried she would panic and be in tears once she was faced with getting on the back of a horse again.

I didn't want my baby to be embarrassed.  I didn't want her to feel like she couldn't do this.

As moms we want to take sickness and pain from our babies.

We want to remove self doubt and raise them up as high as we can.

Too many times we think the cure is to surround them, coddle them, and give them no room of their own to try.  It isn't that we don't want them to try it is just that as moms we have a fear of their failure too.

Arriving at the ring we were surrounded by girls of all ages and all levels of riding.  I imagine for an eight year old girl who wants to ride so badly it was magical in a way; being surrounded by various horse breeds and girls who cold maneuver about with ease on these huge animals.

It was also overwhelming.

I could see the uneasiness building up in my girl.

Why couldn't I take it from her and give her all the self confidence she needs?

If you're not a mom then I'll let you in on a secret that will make you ever so successful anytime you deal with children for long periods of time.  Sometimes mamas need to ease away so that their kids can do their best.

I eased away.

While my girl was in the stable I was sitting out staring at an empty horse ring - saying little prayers that this would be a good experience.

To cut down on this post I want to share this with you -

There were tears.

There was fear.

There was shouting and crying.

Then there was a girl who told me a couple days before - "Mama I just want to be able to ride a horse and not be afraid," in the saddle - smiling, finally - and then out of the saddle and rubbing and talking to a horse that just a hour before she was shying away from.

On the way home the talking from the backseat was incessant.

That was so fun.  That horse is amazing!  Did you see me?  I cannot wait to go back.  I want to ride tomorrow.  Can you please ask if I can come back tomorrow?

We spend a lot of time worrying about our kids.  We want the school work to be perfect and their manners impeccable.  As moms we want their worlds to be without a crease, nick, or worry.  Our lives revolve around their lives.

But sometimes if we ease away a little bit - they do something amazing.

Out here in the middle

Nearly eight years ago I had a significant life change.



I had a daughter.

Best thing in the world?  Of course.  Major source of love?  Indeed.  Definite source of stress?  Completely.

I've watched my "baby girl" morph into this independent roller coaster of growing up.

At times I'm just sad.

I think back on her being a tiny tot like her brother and well....it is a haze.  Time flew by at such warped speed that its just hard to remember when she was my little bitty princess.

I can remember her pretending to be a ghost and walking slap dab into the wall at 2 years old.  She froze in place with the sheet over her and then giggled.  I remember her singing to her dog, George, in the bathtub.  I remember her loving to have books read to her and then her reading me the books at a really early age.

I just hate the times in between are lost.



Now she's wrapping up first grade and becoming more mouthy and more independent than ever.

I remember being like that.  (Sorry, mom.)

In one of my college classes we called these times of change - life stage transitions.

Around age 7 and 8 you transition into middle childhood.  That means you're not a baby by any means and you're not a teenager.  You're caught in the middle.  Today we'd call them 'tweens I guess.

I hate being caught in the middle of anything.

The middle is an odd place to be.  You're not adorable with everyone cooing over you.  You're not an all too awkward something-teen year old with frustration and rights of passages coming at you from all angles.  You don't get all the attention but you spend a lot of time thinking up ways to grab that spotlight without it burning your palm.

 You're in the eye of the storm.  The calm little purgatory that will give you a sense of holding on tight and knowing you're safe from the brutal wind that will eventually blow your way in a couple years. The storm that begins when your shower holds some ProActive and you have to wear that contraption that keeps your blossoming chest in check.

It is a stressor for this mama.  I have been there and I have done that and I trashed the tshirt because that wasn't my most memorable time.

I would like to keep my little girl little but what good is that?  No good at all.  The purpose of her being entrusted to me was for me to raise her to the best of my ability. To guide her into maturity and into becoming a wonderful young lady. A lady who can make a little difference on this big, ugly world.



But I'm not ready for this middle period.  I see signs of the future when she gets upset with me.  And for that matter when I get frustrated with her.  I hear her forked tongue spit mean words my way when things just "aren't fair".  She's getting taller and reading different books and doing different math problems and wanting to be Taylor Swift.

There are moments, though, when she is that sweet little girl.  The times when she wants to snuggle and she wants to read to her brother and when she asks me the cutest most innocent questions.

Like a caterpillar that has to make the change....she's still morphing over.

It is hard to watch this change.  I remember us fixing a yummy snack and curling up together to watch cooking shows because she wanted to be Giada.  Now its Uncle Grandpa and "turn up that song its Ariana Grande."

Take it as it comes...that's what I'm teaching myself to do.  I cannot plan too much for the roads we're going to be traveling soon.  I have to just have faith we'll do a good job navigating in the dark.  I'll be reading more parenting books and asking more questions.  I'll be consuming more wine and asking God for more favors.

This summer starts the bumpy road to the next phase of growing up.  I'm sending her to a day camp. I'm afraid if we have to be in each other's presence 24/7 she'll rip me to shreads or I'll post her on Craigslist for sale. So to keep us both safe and sane, I'll load her on a bus in the mornings and pick her up from that same bus right before dinner.  She'll be with kids she doesn't know and she'll make wonderful new friends and learn all about the world....the good and whatever the more worldly kids can share with her in between activities.

I've already had a hard time just thinking about that first ride to camp.  My little girl getting on a big bus to go spread her wings a little more with mama in the rear view.

Out here in the middle....

Blessed, chosen, taken

1.30.13 - My bridge to you.

I'm writing this between two days - 1.29 & 1.30.
Bare with me - and yes I meant bare not bear.
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I am broken.  I can admit to it.  I am not what I strive to be.  However, I still strive to be the person I want so desperately to be.
I just sat through a webinar - a great hour and twenty minutes of cussing my computer and cussing a website and rolling my eyes and going - TECHNOLOGY SUCKS!  After my hissy fit....the computer worked brilliantly. Shocker?
A reminder I am broken.  
If I was who I wanted to be I would have just been like - ok this will work itsself out and if it doesn't arrangements will be made.  But no...I got hot headed.
Then I cooled down.
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Every day I struggle with different issues.  I am sure you do too and you may not want to admit to them or you may just want to deny them all together.  I used to do that.
My issues on any given day include:
1.  I am a sucky mom.  What a crap job I am doing.  My kid hates me.  My kid doesn't hate me she loves me but she will eventually hate me. 
2.  Why am I so short fused.  I am never going to see 32 if I continue igniting because I will have a heart attack.
3.  Why is my husband doing that?  Is it my fault he's decided to do that?  Oh my Lord what in the world is going on. 
4.  My friends probably think I hate them, I'm such a bad friend. 
5.  Why can't I fit into my clothes, I'm not budgeting for clothes because I have a lot I love that I cannot wear because I still have this baby weight on me.  Oh my Lord, I'm a blimp.  I'm a yucky looking blimp.  No wonder my friends are thinking I'm terrible, just look at me.
6.  There goes my fuse again.  I may not live to 31 and a half at this rate.
7.  Why am I so damn ugly?  Holy crap what is this skin issue I have?  My hair looks nasty.  Look at this chubawub I am wearing.  I'll be ready for a flood, after I'm too tired to swim my michelin will carry me on down the river.
8.  Am I getting dumber by the minute?
And that's just a sample platter.
How broken am I?  I'm that broken plus about ten.
I'm never happy with my accomplishments in a given day.  I always say - I could have done more.  I could have spent more time with my child.  I could have yelled a little less.  I could have organized the kitchen again.  I could have done another Baby Einstein with the baby.  I could have walked the dog a few more times.  I should have managed my chicken coop today.  I should have planned dinner better.  Why didn't I run today?  Why didn't I shoot her an email? 
Its my own boot camp of ridicule every day....over and over.
I am my own worst enemy.
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Correction - I was.
It wasn't until last year I realized - NO, Brownie you aren't worthy of the ridicule you bestow upon yourself.
My life isn't peaches and cream - I will be the first to admit to it.  I battle little devils (no that's not a reference to my children).  Some of those devils are my own and some belong to others that I unconsciously take upon myself.  Those demons shove me in a dark hole sometimes but it was in the last year that I realized those devils can be blown away when I realize something.
I'm blessed.
I'm chosen.
I'm taken.
I'm blessed in that I was so easily willed two children.  These two children are my little paradises on earth.  They show me how to live my life - with eyes that only see the good and are never afraid of the glimpses of bad.  A little girl who is learning all about faith and who can teach me more faith based lessons than any minister or Bible teacher.  When I erupt she is so calm.  She gives me one look that says, "Its ok.  You're ok.  I'm ok."  And in that instant it is clear - my child is showing me the love of something more powerful than a mama.
I'm blessed in that my son was born healthy.  All those fears from February forward were washed away on the day he was born and the doctor said - "He's fine!"
I'm blessed with a wonderful husband who allows me to be home with our children.  He works endlessly to make sure financially we are sufficient.  He is a good dad.  He has huge heart and the patience of Job.  He is the true yin to my yang.
I'm blessed in that I truly do not ever have to worry about the roof over my head (though from the road yesterday I may a little if it decides to drip drip drop those rain pellets on me....).  I do not have to worry about the food in my fridge.  I do not have to worry about how I will get from point A to point B. 
I am blessed in that I am healthy.  But I need to be more aware of that blessing so that my health doesn't faulter.
But even better than the blessings I have is the fact that I am chosen.
I was chosen long before I ever realized it.  When I vowed that the idea of God was like a smile on a dog - not real just an illusion, I had already been chosen.  I had already been picked to be on His team.  When I laughed at the "Bible" thumpers and thought them uneducated - I had already been placed on His list. 
Broken, banged up, bruised......and chosen.
And taken.
I am taken - no one will ever have me - though they try.  I am taken by the One who chose me, who also took me and tells me - Brownie, you are mine and I will be jealous of you until I reclaim you to where all my blessed and chosen children are taken when their time has ran out on that revolving sphere below.
When I allow myself to remember these truths then all my brokenness is gone and I begin to feel whole.
Unfortunately, it is not all too often I remember these promises.  I let it get away from me and am consumed by this world.  That's my achilles heel.  That's my flat tire.
Then it happens....my child, husband, or even my doggie sparks that reminder.
I am blessed.
I am chosen
I am taken.
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And so are you.
I don't care if your Methodist, Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian, Scientologist, Jewish (yes you have always been chosen, I know!), Daoist, Buddhist, Islamic, Atheist, Agnostic, it does not matter.... You are chosen.
It doesn't matter if you are gay, straight, felon, minister, teacher, student.
If you are a sinner - you are chosen.
If you are broken - you are beautiful.
The catch to all of this?
You have to make the true realization within yourself that you are blessed.  All that gradeur that you see is not something you were ever owed but something you were given.  You may say:  No Brownie no one gave me this, I had to work for it.  The ability to work for it, to live in a place where you were given the opportunity to be available have all that wonderful "stuff" - all those wonderful people - all of that opportunity is a blessing.
You are chosen.  You were made from a grand design.  Though you carry that excess around the middle, you buy Clairol, you feel inadequate at whatever - you're still made from the best salt and the most beautiful clay.  You were chosen long before you realized it because the person who made you -no not the cells, but the being that created the recipe that is you chose every single good grain that makes you up.
You are taken.  This is the tricky part.  You may not be taken yet.  See, you are responsible for realizing your blessing and understanding how you were chosen - after you come to that realization you will be able to say - Yes I am taken and nothing else will be able to have me because I allowed myself to be taken by the one who blessed and chose me.
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I am not perfect.
I will never be.
That is a relief.

But I am always:
Blessed
Chosen
Taken

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The LORD is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
Psalm 34:18

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Until we meet again -


Brownie