Wednesday, November 28, 2012

A Say Yes Day

Balance is a tricky thing. I often sound like I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth.  I tell myself "Do Less, Enjoy More" and then I have days like today. Today's message to me was all together something different.  I know it will sound conflicting.  I apologize in advance.  But that's the thing, there is no strait path, there is no map or GPS for finding the way to a happy life. Sometimes there are curves in the road. Today was the exception to the rule.

I also have to admit, I'm in a happy place right now.  I feel rested. Confident. Peaceful. My husband, "The Athlete" will tell you that my happiness is evident in all our kids.  When I'm peaceful, the kids are peaceful.

I promise I will admit when I struggle, but for the most part, right now I feel well placed in my life and balanced (although as I just wrote that I can't help but think about the long list of to-dos I have somewhere lurking - I'm pushing that to the background for now).

The first "yes"
An old friend of mine is finishing her 20th advanced degree (or so it seems). And she needed to interview people of faith who had purchased life insurance.  She'd sent out a mass e-mail to people who might be good fits.  So yesterday, I set up 30 minutes this morning to catch up with her and do the interview. Typically the morning is my favorite quiet time, read the paper, drink my coffee. My youngest plays the best first thing in the morning and the older kids are already out the door. But I hadn't talked to her in a few months and so it was lovely to hear her voice and chat about life. It was a weird sort of gift that we had an excuse to catch up. So as I wrapped up the call, the front door opened.

The second "yes"
Also yesterday, a close friend called in the after school hours sounding fried.  Her husband is traveling, she's got four busy young boys, and a good friend of hers from high school had suddenly passed away. The wake was last night and the funeral was this morning at our church. She needed help. I don't think she was calling to ask for help - I think she just wanted a few minutes of adult conversation.  But it became clear to both of us that she'd appreciate an extended hand.  We all need that sometimes as people, as parents. The extended hand - not only when we're in crisis - but just when we're fried.  A simple bit of kindness carries a heavy load with no effort. I told her I'd watch her two youngest boys the next day so she could sit peacefully through the funeral.

She arrived with snacks and coffee this morning and the happy boys in tow. So my morning continued with dollhouses, story time and grilled cheese sandwiches. I sat near the fireplace and read Shell Silversteen, Dr. Suess and my favorites, Don and Audry Wood to the eager trio of toddlers. It was peaceful.  And lovely. And I enjoyed it. And without the simple, unencumbered "yes" I would have missed it.

The third "yes"
My middle sister's, middle son is an artist who is autistic. He's 19 and expresses himself best through his vibrant paintings of landscapes, people and animals.  Verbal communication is a challenge for him to say the least. I've participated on the sidelines of his life since the beginning and we've watch the family ride the roller-coaster that is living with a loved one who struggles to communicate and relate.

For the last two years, he's made a new sort of life out of his art experience and my sister and her family have worked incredibly hard to foster this talent because they see how it has helped him find a place in the world. I think it has also helped his parents and siblings see a new place, a positive future for him. Art has dramatically improved his quality of life.

That being said, they had one of the frustratingly, sad set backs last weekend at a family party. My sister had gotten used to a certain ease of taking her son out in public, he was typically being compliant and enjoyed getting out.  Long gone seemed the days when he might bolt out into a street or refuse to comply with basic requests. 

The family party was incredibly loud and packed with about 40 members of my family all watching an intense football game. My nephew expected to retreat to a quiet basement room with a TV and VCR. He loves the sound and the process associated with VCR.  And who still has one? Well almost nobody, except thought my sister, our brother's family.

My sister told her son repeatedly how much fun this would be, what a treat to go to the party.  Well, of course the arrangement of the basement room has been altered since the last time he was there.  No TV, no VCR. But two boxes filled with hundreds of movies, literally hundreds of VHS movies, that he couldn't watch.

This was too much to bare.  He melted down. After about an hour of my sister, her husband and three of their kids trying to calm him down and getting him safely out. I went down stairs and discovered the situation. Everyone was on the edge of panic. Worried about how to get him calmed down and safely into the car.  Worried that this was a big set back. Disappointed that this wasn't how they thought the night was going to go. I asked what I could do to help and my sister shrugged and said sarcastically:
"You don't happen to have a VCR on you, do you?
I laughed with her for a minute because sometimes that's all there is to do.  And then it dawned on me that when my mother-in-law sold her house, we received boxes of old family VHS movies and a VCR to watch them.
"Yes. I think I actually do."
It was packed up somewhere in my basement. We arranged that if my nephew could calm down and follow directions, he could come to my house next week and watch my VCR. After a bit of explaining, he seemed relieved and agreed to go out to the car. Catastrophe averted.

Phew.

So this afternoon was the scheduled VCR day.  My husband dug it out and set it up with an old TV. I set aside this time to have a quiet household so my nephew would know that I keep my promises. He spent a few hours checking out our movie selection, enjoying the functioning VCR, and having some lunch . Hugs, smiles and no meltdowns. Success on every level.

The fourth "yes"
The Arch Mother is having a party, which is shocking to absolutely no one. She needed help drafting and printing invitations.  She knows I can do this in my sleep and so she called and asked if I could stop over and help her. The best part, is that because I talk to her ten times a day, she knew what kind of day I was going to have, and she offered to let me off the hook. I do love being needed by my parents. I love that they call me because they know I'll do whatever I can to help. I also enjoy listening to my dad talk to the kids while I'm working on the computer or charging the kindle.  I love that my mom makes them treats and asks them about school while I'm typing letters or fixing printers. Being needed by people who love you is the simplest, the great gift in the world.

When I arrived I had 44 minutes before I needed to leave to pick up my oldest son from swimming. I discovered a post-it note with about 5 items that they'd set aside for me to tackle. In that 44 minutes my three youngest kids got ice-cream cake before dinner, I
  1. Drafted and printed 30 invitations to a holiday party. 
  2. Created a Christmas playlist of my parents holiday music and transferred it to their i-Pod.
  3. Reminded them how to use their i-Pod.
  4. Fixed their Kindle
  5. Outlined a plan for the holiday card (of which they send more than 500).
Bam. 44 minutes. It may not have been artfully done.  I would prefer to have more time to talk and relax, but we do the best we can.

Just enough "yes"
I'd like to go back to the beginning. I believe that we all would benefit by slowing down, doing less with better effort. But every once in awhile you climb a mountain like today.  Besides all the other activities of the day I ran school drop off and pick up, chess club, swim team, homework and of course fed the kids dinner.

My heart felt light and happy today, so it all clicked along pretty well.  I can't do this everyday. I couldn't even do this once a week. But there is something to be said about discovering moments when we realize we can do more and be more than we often give ourselves credit for.  We are inherently bigger, grander people than the faces looking back from the vanity mirror. Sometimes its just hard to see, hard to believe.

Sometimes "No" is the most important word you can say. But, if I'm totally honest, sometimes "Yes" saves the day.  I think about all the times that some one's "yes" saved me from a meltdown, a bad decision or just gave me a few minutes peace of mind. The trick is knowing what the answer is for you in that moment.

My husband has helped me find the balance - I try and think of all the things my hands and arms can hold and when faced with that "one more thing." I ask myself can I really carry this without dropping something else? Because those somethings are my kids, my husband, my family responsibilities. I am in charge of a lot of breakable items. It defeats the point of saying yes if you ruin something else that is precious. I'm learning to see more quickly what is possible and impossible. If I can't help, I empathize. Sometimes that's just as good.

Yes can be a lifeboat. Yes can be a bridge. Yes can be the difference.

Sitting at a quiet dinner, talking though work, kids, the weekend, The Athlete and I capped the day with a quick date night that included Indian food and very cheap wine. It's never tasted so good. 

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