The True Secret To Life From A 3 Yr Old

I had to be reminded by a 3 year old!!

A man was on a plane with his 3 yr old son. The little boy being a typical 3 yr old, was starting to be disruptive to the other passengers. The father opened an on-flight magazine and tore out a foldout map of the world. He proceeded to tear it along geographical lines into several pieces and laid the mixed up pieces onto the boys tray table. "Put the puzzle together, son", he said "It's a map of the world." The father hoped that it would keep the youngster busy for a few minutes at least until he lost interest. Dad then started to thumb through his own magazine, after a very brief moment, he looked down and was completely stunned to see that the boy had already perfectly completed the entire map of the world. Thinking that his son was a budding genius, he asked, "Son, how did you put that world map together so quickly?" The boy responded, "It was easy daddy, on the back of the page there's a picture of a mans head and when I got my head in the right place, the world came out just fine."

As someone who tends to over think almost everything, it has always amazed me how very small children have such a way of staying so connected, while coming up with simple solutions to something that they are faced with. I guess I need to have a little sit down with a 3 year old. I know as long as I can get my head in the right place and not over think things as to complicate them, my world will come out alright.

"It takes twenty years to make an overnight success" - Eddie Cantor

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Moving Forward

Coming to grips with the past I think is one of the hardest things for me to do. Things that have happened, mistakes I've made, people that have hurt me and vice versa, all haunt me ferociously. I know as hard as I may try, there is nothing I can do to change the past.
This week, trying to find the motivation to move forward and shake my regretful fixation, I keep reminding myself of this...
Live in the present and believe in the future. Glancing at the past can edify and assure you; however, staring at it can control and destroy you.
v edify
to improve the mind or morals of.
To instruct especially so as to encourage intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement.
make understand

v as·sure (-shr)
1. To inform positively, as to remove doubt
2. To cause to feel sure: assured her of his devotion.
3. To give confidence to; reassure.
4. To make certain; ensure: "Nothing in history assures the success of our civilization"
5. To make safe or secure.

I know I will falter, but I shall desperately try and start staring at the beautiful things right in front of me to regain my control. I long to improve and grow confident. I refuse to be destroyed!

Not So Great Perks

This morning as I sit at the kitchen table starring a stack of bills that need to be paid, I feel the anxiety start to rise. Since last nights state lottery ticket only yielded one number for me, I guess It's back to the drawing board. Pondering on what to do and trying to work some creative financing miracle, I decide to take a break from my torture. I open up Yahoo to check my e-mail and low and behold, the incredible news I've been waiting to hear right there on my front home page!

'Chase introduces new card for wealthiest customers'

WILMINGTON, Del. – Chase Card Services, a unit of JPMorgan Chase & Co., said Wednesday it will now offer a rewards card designed for wealthy customers. The new card, called Chase Sapphire, is designed for the top-earning 15 percent of U.S. households. It offers travel services, access to round-the-clock customer service and a rewards program.'

Isn't it just spectacular? So, In other words, the fantastic crooks at JPMorgan have created another great little card to have for their very own. Great job corporate America! We bailed them out with millions of our middle-class dollars, only for these greedy asses to continue to be allowed to reward themselves. Oh my God! When's it going to stop?

In the mean time, I will continue to rob Peter to pay Paul. Nope, no cool new rewards program for me. I guess I must have the Zirconia card. The only customer service rep that I will continue to get when I call about my unexplained interest rate increase, is one that I can't understand.

Oh Well. {sigh}

Screw you Yahoo for reporting such lame news.

What Seems To Be The Problem Officer?

Today while I was out running errands, I stopped for a moment to get something to eat. I sat down at the table and wondered what I would blog about today or even if I would. I thought about a question my oldest daughter asked me yesterday. Does blogging help my mood? I told her that it has made me more aware of the small things that happen in my day. The adjectives. The small little details that I have been just ignoring lately due to being so busy.

As I thought, my mind was coming up blank for something to write about. My morning and afternoon were turning out to be pretty hum drum. I ate the rest of my fruit and emptied my tray.

On my way back home, I pulled up to a busy intersection with one of those dreadful ‘forever’ lights. I found myself right next to a motorcycle cop. As nonstop traffic sped by for what seemed like an eternity, I could almost feel his breath down the back of my neck. I looked over at him proudly perched atop his black and white bike. His expression was serious and lips somewhat pursed under a little black mic.

I giggled to myself and looked back over at him. I put my thumb to my nose, stuck out my tongue and started wiggling the rest of my fingers. While doing this, I wondered to myself, What’s he going to do? What’s the worse thing that could happen? Will he pull me over and give me a ticket? That's a day in court I would pay to see anyway. A uniformed officer saying “Your Honor, she went like this to me” while displaying an active nose trumpet.

I was unsure of what his reaction to my childish gesture would be. I’ll admit, I was a little nervous. He looked forward at the light and then back over at me. With the serious expression still on his face, he raised his black gloved thumb to his nose and wiggled his fingers. We then both smiled and the light changed.

Relieved as I pulled away unfollowed and about the fact he smiled about it. I remembered something - That intersection is photo enforced. Maybe that’s why he smiled. Am I gonna get a ticket in the mail this week marked ‘Ninner, Ninner’?

One Handsome Mop

This morning after I got the kids off to school, I sat sipping a cup of coffee and looked around at all that I needed to get done. I popped in one of my Frank Sinatra CD's and started to work.

First, I loaded up some laundry, then the dishwasher, and then wiped off the counters. I then headed to the garage for the bucket I use to clean the floor and grabbed the mop hanging behind the door on the way back inside.
As I started mopping the kitchen, I found myself swaying back and forth to the orchestrated brass instruments that perfectly matched every note of Mr. Sinatras voice. A wrung out mop as my partner and dressed in a tank top and boxer shorts, I swayed and twirled across the kitchen floor. I closed my eyes. The kitchen was now a beautiful dance floor and the upside down mop, a debonair gentleman. We danced.
After several songs, I realized it was taking me much too long to get this kitchen done. After all, I still had the two bathrooms to do also. I flipped the mop back over and proceeded to get back to work. A brief pause in between songs allowed me to refocus on my task. With a sudden blast of a trombone and several trumpets -Same Old Saturday Night- 'Oh how I love this song!'. I couldn't resist the urge. Equipped with a perfectly good microphone, I began to sing and perform with one of my all time favorites. With a dramatic and abrupt ending, our duet was over. It was then I realized something...I had mopped myself right into the corner.
Oh Well. Now when I look at the foot prints across the floor, I will remember the great morning I had with Frank and My Handsome Mop.

The 'C' Word

College. The mere thought of it sends a cold chill of nervousness through me. I am planning on going back in January to earn my Bachelors, something that I have always wanted.

Today while taking a shower, I was thinking about my preparation for returning. My fears. My doubts. The thought of test taking again puts a knot in my stomach a sailor would envy. I haven't been to school in almost 20 years and the thought of it scares me like a child starting kindergarten.

I then thought back about when I took my twins to their first day of kindergarten. I knew a little boy named Randy. He had bragged and bragged about starting kindergarten and told everyone that he could about his attending. He would taunt his younger siblings and remind them daily that they did not get to go. He was planning on taking the school by storm.

Finally, the first day of school rolled around and we all begin to line up outside the classroom door with our well dressed little scholars. Each wore an expression of nervousness, unsure of what the afternoon would hold for them.
Suddenly we could all hear the cries of a child and from across the lawn could see a small boy being lead unwillingly by the hand in our direction. As they grew closer, I could see that it was Randy being pulled along by his mom. "No Mommy! I don't want to go! No!" His wails were now that of a fire engine and getting louder as they continued their combative approach. The rest of our silent little troopers all started getting even more nervous and some even started to cry.

The bell rang and we all filed into the classroom. The teacher spoke reassuringly to the children and they all began to calm. One by one, each of them started to explore the colorful classroom, including a now docile Randy, and the parents began to sneak away. All was well.

Now at 38, I can completely relate to our little friend Randy. I am scared to death. I feel as if I need someone to drag me, kicking and screaming to the classroom. I know that once I'm there, I will feel much better and my self confidence will begin to return. The biggest step is just getting there.

Any Volunteers?

Poor 'Lil Chicken

I woke this morning at 4:53. I laid in the darkness, appreciating the peaceful still. I heard the faint crows of what sounded like a drunk rooster in the distance. I giggled to myself and thought stupid chicken.

I started thinking about when I was a small child and we would go to the fair. I remembered there was a chicken displayed in a case. This case held four items; the chicken, a light bulb, a cup and a tiny toy piano. Each year, I would slip a quarter into the appropriate slot, the light bulb would illuminate, and the chicken would diligently start pecking away at the keys. Mozart it was not, but it was adorable to watch. ‘'Tink, Tink, Tink’. The light would go off and a small portion of scratch would be dispensed into a cup for the chickens job well done.
I specifically remember one time, how terrible I felt for the diligent little chicken. The light came on and she played her little tune, but this time when she ran to reap her reward, it had not dispensed any scratch. Feeling badly for her and believing that the malfunctioning machine robbed her, I plugged in another coin, only to have it happen once again. I remember my dad saying "let's go, you're just torturing it". As a child, I walked away from the poor 'lil 'ol chicken feeling very sorry for it, but not thinking for one moment, that I would later use the experience as a comparative and a lesson of persistence to myself.
I told my girls the story today. They all replied the very same way I had, "Aw, that's so sad, that poor little chicken". I remember it had looked at me like I was crazy after pecking at an empty cup. What must have been going through its little chicken head? What the Hell, where's my scratch? I did my job, now pay up!
Now as an adult, I realized something today, the machine was probably set to dispense a specific healthy amount of food and already had for that afternoon. Still slightly hungry, the chicken would continue the afternoon going through the motions like its little chicken brain knew, because at some point it got a reward.
I sometimes feel like that little chicken, diligently doing what I am supposed to, when I am supposed to do it, and getting nothing. I guess if I got it all at once, then the force that drives me would be gone. It's frustrating not reaping an instant reward; however, I will continue to keep playing my piano ‘Tink, Tink, Tink’. I will continue to do my thing with persistence and perseverance and hopefully, just hopefully my scratch will soon be dispensed again.

My Gumball Heart

My heart is like a gumball, starting off bright and colorful.
Perfectly seamless and happily surrounded by others that complimented it beautifully, to create an illuminated sea of happiness for someone with a single desire.
I dispensed my heart, bright and shiny into the hand of someone who really desired a different color. They were never quite being happy with what mine had to offer, even when I gave my all.
It hurts now, chewed up and spit out; left without color, shape, or form. I wonder how I will ever again find the beautiful brilliance it once gleamed. It almost seems impossible, but surely with time I will be able to reshape and remold it to possess some of the desirable appeal it once had. Although, I do wonder if it will ever again be able to illuminate so vibrantly, as to attract the heart of someone who desires the color and flavor that it holds.
I'm scared to death, to let it go again. I have it clenched tightly in my fist, like a small child in fear of it being taken away, clutched to my chest and desperately trying to protect it. I just hope that when the time comes and that someone comes along, I will be able to loosen my grip.
I know it won't be perfect and it will bare white scars, while my palm showing signs of color that bled from it; however, I long for the day that someone makes me feel safe and secure enough that I will be able to trustfully share with them my gumball heart in an outstretched and open hand.

Jeni