How many of us really love our bodies?

Hmmm I thought so.

We all have parts and pieces of our body that we consider "flawed". You know the part (s) of you that you  think could be better? I know you know what I am talking about.

The waist that is not skinny enough, the thick ankles, the stretch marks, those ears, that thin upper lip, that nose, that tiny chest. Whatever it is, everyone has something they'd change if they could.

But are they really as big of flaws as we think? Or is it just the way we perceive our own body.

Heck let's face it, we are so mean to ourselves.

While we may give others a break on their figure flaws, like the woman at the beach in the bikini who really shouldn't be wearing a two piece at all. We think to ourselves, wow, how awesome that she is so confident in her own skin and dares to wear that, giving her credit for the strength, not the flaw.
Again, we see the pluses in others.

Why is it so much easier to see past the imperfections of others, yet beat ourselves up about our own?

If you are anything like me, I totally zero in on my flaws, and maybe even exaggerate them to much larger proportions.

I have this friend who is absolutely beautiful. She is drop dead gorgeous. But she thinks her thighs are too big. She won't even let them make the slightest appearance in a photo. It's almost an obsession.

I want to tell her to stop the madness. To just zip it. To love her body, with all its perceived imperfections, right now, 100%. Stop seeing "flaws" that no one else sees. Give yourself a break.

Soon enough, I'm afraid, she will wish that she had those thighs back again. Because it seems to me that as you age, your imperfections only get worse and new ones crop up faster than you can even keep up with.

Almost without warning things can go south. You can go grey, like overnight. Well okay not really overnight, but it seems that way. Or you look down and your once sexy knees all of a sudden have droopy skin hanging around them, think elephant skin. Oh my gosh when did I get old lady knees? And let's not even talk about the big boob droop. (That can happen even without breastfeeding.)

I have always complained about my lack of a waist line. Only to discover in looking back at pictures of my younger self, I once actually did have a waist line, and just never appreciated it. Now it is long gone. Why didn't I make the most of that little bit of waist indentation I had way back then? Because I didn't appreciate my body. I wasn't nice to myself. I just didn't know how someday I'd actually have to figure out ways to cover up my lack of waistline, thank goodness for low rise jeans.

I want to yell at my friend and tell her that her thighs fit her perfectly. And that even if she thinks they are a little big, no one is looking at them anyway. Her back, shoulders, upper arms and tiny waist are the most gorgeous things ever. If only she could see what I see, and what the rest of the world sees. She'd let every picture of her thighs and the rest of her body make it onto Facebook, without hesitation.

So my advice to all of you is to please take it easy on YOURself. Love what you have. Embrace those imperfections. Flaunt your strengths... while you still have some.

In other words, be nicer to yourself.

You know like Curious George. Only I don't get into nearly as much trouble as he did. Thank goodness.

So what did you learn today?

A life lesson? A new skill? Something about yourself you never knew before?

C'mon there has to be something...

Every day is a new day. That means, a new opportunity to learn.

I am a seriously curious person. I love to learn.

For example, today I went on an off road jeep tour in search of wild horses, and I could not stop myself from asking the tour guide a ton of questions.

 We saw a lot of horses taking drinks in the many puddles. Notice the hitch-hiker bird?

I was really curious. I have read many books that take place in North Carolina's Outer Banks (OBX). Stories of crabbing in the Sound, of sea turtles, of sailing, of pirates, of family beach houses....and I just wanted to "know," you know?

Okay maybe you really don't, but I always seem to want to know.

Turns out our guide (he was just a kid) was originally from Kitty Hawk and was happy to answer all my questions. I learned that the Sound that far north in NC is fresh water,  not a combo of salt and fresh water like I assumed, and the fresh water is fed by two Virgina rivers. There were islands that I could see in the distance and Mike, our guide, said that you could walk all the way out to them, the water might only be knee high, even though it looks like it could be as deep as a lake from our elevated dune view. (It is full of snakes and crabs and other unmentionables, so there is no way I'd brave going into it). Ever.

 See, from on top of the dune, it looks like the Sound is a big ole' lake.

We traveled to find the horses via Highway 12 (which is really not a highway at all, but a long flat stretch of beach) that people drive on like a road. Now that is something to see. People park their lawn chairs in the middle of the highway and set up camp. What?

Two of my housemates thought I should try to take my minivan out on that "road" yesterday, but I am pretty sure that off roading is not in my van's vocabulary, remember my Parking 101 fiasco, so I smartly declined. I wasn't about to risk needing a tow way out here in the OBX.

 This is a picture of Highway 12 taken from my seat in the moving jeep.

Mike, the guide, said people used to be able to travel Highway 12 north from NC all the way to the Virgina line, but now that is illegal, unless you lived here before 1978 and are grandfathered in. Then you can take Highway 12, aka the beach, the short distance to Virginia. Once in Virginia, Highway 12 becomes a nature preserve, and if you get caught trying to cross the border into it, you are fined.

I could go on and on about all my newly gleaned knowledge, but suffice it to say I learned a lot.

To get back to the point of this post.... every day is a new opportunity to learn.

Think about that. So true. You need to pay attention to every opportunity that comes your way, take advantage of every chance to ask questions, be curious and open to whatever comes at you. Just in case.

Because you wouldn't want to miss "it".

"It" might be your new direction. Your passion. Your path. Your new opportunity. So pay attention. And learn something new every day. Just one thing. Who knows, it could change the course of your life.

P.S. I have been using my time here in OBX to learn to use the manual setting on my camera. It is not easy, and some parts feel a little like math to me. Ick. But I am so lucky to have this beautiful place and this week all to myself to just practice. And learn.

 Playing around with my camera at the beach.

So what did you learn today?

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 The name of our house in OBX

In case you did not know, I am on a week long trip with 7 other girls, whom I do not really know, far far from home.

That’s extremely weird, even for most people. For me, it is way out of my comfort zone. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that going on this vacation is not what I would normally  choose to do. Pretty sure even my husband thinks I am nuts.

But choose it, I did.

I do not travel well. In fact, I do not make a habit of going anywhere, except to my cottage. So for me to choose a week long trip, away from home, with people I do not know, is a huge shocker.

 View of the Atlantic ocean on a cloudy day.

A look in the opposite direction.

I am currently alone, with 7 others, in the outer banks of North Carolina. By the way… to dispel any rumors, it is still here after hurricane Irene.

When on vacation, I am usually the one in charge. The one who has everything under control. The one who makes people feel comfortable and who keeps things moving smoothly. Groceries are plentiful, food is planned, fixed, eaten, cleaned up, and people are relaxed and happy.

 Even on a cloudy, windy day the ocean is beautiful And loud.

Not this time. This time, I am taking a back seat. On purpose.

And, it feels really good.

There are times in life when you need to do what you need to do.

 View off our back deck of the Currituck Sound.

This time, it is all about me.

(So then why the heck did everyone eat my tuna fish?)

Because I believe in sharing the good, the bad, and the sometimes unexpected things that happen in life, I wrote an article about my failed endometrial ablation and the hysterectomy I ended up with last spring. It posted yesterday on The Mode Life, a group blog that started in Grand Rapids earlier this summer.

Oh, a heads up to the guys who regularly read my blog, you may not want to venture over there for this one....it is, after all, an article about girl parts. Here is the link to the article No More Periods.

P.S. I'll be contributing over at The Mode Life regularly, and it won't always be about girl stuff, so please stop on over and check us out.

This week was a busy one at our house, thus no new blog posts.

I started off for work on Tuesday a little down in the dumps. After all, Labor Day signifies end of summer fun in cottage speak. Most of my neighbors pulled in their docks, took out their boats, and some even closed up their cottages for the winter. Winter, wasn't it just the start of summer? It always makes me sad.

On top of that happening, I got news I didn't want to hear on Sunday night, about an idea of mine that wasn't going to happen, well at least not going to happen in way I had begun to think it would. So I had to swallow that disappointment and regroup.

And then the daunting prospect of back to school. Last year was not a good school year, all around. And back then I only had one kid at home. Now I am looking at 4 kids in school. I know that I don't have to  help with their homework or even nag them about it, but I do feel I have to at least attempt to keep them on track. That gives me a headache just thinking about it.

It's a bit of a struggle for me to let go of a clean house, too. I am used to working on all "the other stuff" I like to do, like blogging or reading other blogs, when all my house work is finished. The only problem now, with 6 of us in the house, is that my work is never finished. And that doesn't even include all the deep cleaning or closet reorganization that needs to happen. That thought right there totally overwhelms me.

Photo Credit: Mercedes DeJesus

I was then pleasantly surprised when I met a friend of mine for lunch on Tuesday. I was catching her up on life-as-I-know-it, explaining how my almost empty nest had grown to a full house rather quickly. She listened, and empathized with me, she let me vent a bit, and then she offered practical help.

She said she had a bag of clothes her son had recently outgrown, one that was headed for Goodwill, and wondered if they might work for Jeff.

Such a simple thing really. Why not? I send clothes to Goodwill all the time. Most of them are ones we have either outgrown or grown tired of, so why not give them to someone who might be able to use them right now. I never would have thought to ask.

Maybe her offer, because it came from her heart, a way she could help lessen my burden, meant so much to me because I hadn't asked for it. Whatever the reason, it turned my attitude around. I realized that even though I sometimes feel like I am in this alone, I really am not. I am supported by people who care about me, who care about the children I have taken in, and who are there to help.

I am usually not one to ask for help. I am usually the helper. The one who steps in to help "fix" things for someone else. But she reminded me that it is okay to be the one in need. And maybe even showed me that I need to start asking for some help at home.

 The newest additions to our family, Sadie and Jeff.

I took the clothes home to Sadie's little brother, and he can use all but one shirt! That is fantastic news for him and for the rest of our house. And to make it even better... my friend's coworker said she has clothes that her daughters were giving to Goodwill, that might work for Sadie.

I am stunned at the kindness from this stranger.

While I can't promise I won't have other days where I am feeling overwhelmed, I can tell you that their generosity has turned my frown around. I even got Sadie and Alec to each make a dinner for the family later last week. Because I asked. And I think they were secretly happy to do it.

Thank you MJ for making me see the bright side once again and for helping me to believe that I really can do this.

If you liked this post, you may also like:

Welcome To Our Family
I Hope This Time I Will Be Wrong
June Cleaver I am Not, But Where Have All The Real Mothers Gone

The perfect gift. Visit your local bookstore or Amazon.com for your own copy of She.

My friend Jenn gave me a book for my birthday back in 2007. I had pretty much forgotten all about it. Until a few days ago when I was reached up to pull my thesaurus off the shelf, and a slim pink spine caught my eye. It was the book She… by Kobi Yamada.

Curious, I opened it and read. Immediately the first page said something that caught my attention.

She loved life and it loved her right back. Celebrate her passion.

She listened to her heart above all the other voices. 

Celebrate her wisdom.

As I read on, all I could think was: holy cow, was this book written for me?

It is an easy read…more like an inspirational book, and less like a novel. But back when I first received it, it didn’t really speak to me.

I wasn’t yet at the point where I could see myself for who I really was or appreciate the person I had become. I hadn’t yet grown up. This time it was completely different. It didn’t take long to realize the book was not only speaking right to my heart, it was about “me”. And it is about “you”.

She is for all women; your mother, daughter, grandma, sister, best friend, lady in line behind you at the grocery store, every woman. Read She. Or better yet, buy it, read it, and give it someone you love. I plan to. Hopefully one day that woman will be able to love the person they have become, like I did.

My friend Jenn was way ahead of me, her heart was open long before mine was. She was trying to tell me something back then that I wasn’t quite ready to hear.

I’m listening this time, and Jenn, I hear it! Thank you for seeing in me, what I wasn’t ready to see in myself, your gift of She might be the best birthday present I ever got.

XO,

Terri

Make  a wish...

I have often said, be careful what you wish for.

Last year, at this time, my oldest Alec was beginning his freshman year of college at MSU. That left Mike and me home alone with our youngest son, Mitch. Not quite yet considered an empty nest, it certainly was a quieter house.

I was not only sad, but a bit out of sorts.

I was so full of emotion that I was unable to do anything. I was stuck. There was no blogging from me for several months, no forward motion at all. I cried at weird times, and I felt numb.

I found myself wanting more time with Alec. I wished for more noise in the house. I hoped Alec's friends, whom had in weird ways, become my friends too, would stop by again. Selfishly I wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, my house filled with activity and teenagers.

There was a lot of quiet time and I began to ask myself the question, Who am I now?

For so long I had been just “mom”, I did what mom's do: nagged, shopped, cleaned, cooked, and organized my way through a week. I attended band concerts and sporting events, PTSA Meetings, conferences, volunteered backstage for the high school musicals, you know, the typical mother stuff.

Them Bam! One day I woke up and I was no longer needed in the way I had become accustomed to. I had become an almost extra in both their lives. Everyone could get where they needed to go, without me. They began to navigate their own way through dealing with teachers, and colleges, and employers, without me.

They had grown up. Was it really overnight?

For a lot of women, me included, this new phase of life can be very scary. Very turbulent. Life changing. With more available brain power to devote to "me", it was time I began to figure out what I wanted to be When I Grew Up. Let me just say, it was easier to do all that mom stuff than it was to answer this question. I needed to relearn how to be "me" all over again.

It's a weird place to be.

Suddenly coming face to face with the “rest of your life”,  makes a lot of people take stock of things. They scrutinize not only themselves, to see how far down their bucket list they've gotten, but also the person they are spending that life with, and maybe the company they work for, too. Maybe it involves a life changing decision like reentering the workforce after years of being a stay at home mom.

Whatever situation you find yourself in, most of us take a good, hard look at ourselves. And some may not like what they see.

I began to wonder if I had made a difference. Am I happy in all parts of my life?

I realized I wasn't 100% happy. I wanted to make more of an impact, create more of a legacy. I wanted to find passion in my work life.

Since then, I have taken many steps out of my comfort zone and toward a future with meaning. It is a slippery slope, the wondering if you are too old to offer another employer any desirable qualities. The wondering if you should just wait things out until retirement, continuing to stay in what you know.

Surprisingly this reevaluation of "me" has led to a whole lot of positivity in my life. It isn't always easy to remain open to the possibilities, especially if the future is hard to see. I still don't know where I am going, but this shift in my thinking is super energizing. And kind of fun.

Once you get past the fear that is.

So, back to the being careful what you wish for part...

Looking back to one year ago, and my wish for what used to be,  a busy house, a full house, I now have to laugh. Remember that almost empty nest I talked about… you know, the one with only one child at home?

There are four here now.

Alec changed his major and switched schools, from MSU to GVSU. He'll be staying at home this school year. Mitch is a senior in high school, and exciting things will be happening for him from here on out. Plus he made some great new friends this summer, who drop by often. Sadie, my "almost daughter", is back home, and this time she brought along her 15 year old brother because he needs a safe place to flourish.

So four kids + Mike and I, makes us a family of six. Throw in the assorted others who drop by, and it's a party.

Our house is of modest size, and currently our closets and cupboards are filled to the brim.

I've pretty much given up on three things I have always managed to maintain:  clean counters, enough food, and empty laundry baskets.

Oh my, life is certainly an adventure. :)

Be careful what you wish for...it just might come true.

Another sunset on BSL. Inspiring? I think so.

"Without passion you don't have energy,

without energy you have nothing."

-- Donald Trump

Passion is an interesting thing. It can be obvious. Or it can be kind of stealth. And it can be downright frustrating if you cannot figure out what your passion really is.

Take it from someone who knows.

In the past, when people talked about their "passion",  it has been a stressful thing for me.

Because until lately, I have not known what my passion even is.

I have spent my whole life trying to figure out what my "talent" is. What am I good at?

No, seriously this is true.

What do I do well?

I have always come up with nothing, well okay, maybe organizing and being efficient, but seriously that is not really a talent.

I am a mediocre kind of girl. I can do a lot of things, but I do them just "okay", not well enough to consider them a talent. Nothing I do stands out.

It kinda stinks.

I would love to say that I am an awesome singer, but the truth is, I am definitely not. I love to sing but I love to sing with someone who is a lot stronger of a singer than I am, so no one can really hear me.

I would love to say I slalom ski well. But the truth is, I am just okay. Better than the average person, but not good. Not good enough to even ski a real slalom course. ( I did try that once).

I would love to say that it is being a yoga instructor. But the reality of that is I am downright inflexible. And, I always have been. You can't really be a great instructor if you can't do half the poses.

Maybe it is cooking. Nope, another strike out. I am good at fixing other people's recipes, but I have rarely, if ever, made up a recipe all of my own.

Entertaining. Making people feel comfortable. Hostessing.

Are these even talents?

It sure doesn't seem like anyone else counts these as talents, but they are the closest I can come to having a knack for something.

How sad is that?

I have had several discussions with other women these last few months about this same topic. I have come to realize that even if you have no apparent talent, or at least cannot define and recognize your own talent, it is still there. Underneath all your insecurities, all the distractions. Something is your passion. Maybe we are all on our own separate journeys to discover it. Maybe we get frustrated because some people find it sooner than others. Maybe some of us just take a little longer to gel.

I'd like to think that it is never too late to uncover your passion. Your strength. Your inner light.
Because I think I may have found mine.

I believe that I was born to blog. 

P.S.
I am so not a fan of "the Donald", but his quote above, I wholeheartedly agree with.

Follow Your Heart... Not exactly as cool as the face of Jesus in a Walmart receipt, 

but a tortilla chip with a heart had special meaning for me.

Think about it.

Wouldn't it be great if you didn't have to worry about mortgage payments, ongoing medical bills, college tuition, electric bills (after running the air conditioner for a month straight), credit card debt, impromptu shopping spree bills or whatever keeps you from getting ahead?

Life would be so much happier if you had money to pay for everything. Or would it?

Once upon a time, I might have said yes.

Now, I know the real answer is no.

A million dollars might makes things easier, but it won't make you happier.

Happiness comes from your inner self. When you are truly happy from within, the joy you experience in everything you do, is greater. Being happy heightens sensations, makes jokes funnier, love deeper, bonds stronger. Heck it might even make the skies appear bluer.

Without inner happiness, all the money in the world won't make you happy.

So, take a moment to listen to your own heart.

What's it saying to you?

Slow down. Speed up. Take a leap. Take a chance. Write a story. Write a song. Go back to school. Get a new job. Open your heart. Love someone unconditionally. Follow your passion.

Can you hear what your heart is saying?

Whatever it is.. listen to it.

You'll never be truly happy until you do.

Growing up this was one of my happy places. Many a summer day was spent turtling on this pond.

Not this time.

I think it is finally time for my dreams.

I can feel myself warming to the idea that maybe NOW is the perfect time for my dreams to come true.

Why not? I've been patient. I've worked hard. I've helped raise my children from wee ones to strapping men. What better time than the present?

I'm ready.

Lately I'm daring to do things I've never done before. Blogging, for one. Opening myself up. Sharing the real and very flawed me with anyone who will read my words. That is already a bit out of my normal comfort zone.

So as the ideas swirl, and the wheels turn, I am finding endless energy. When have I ever gotten up in the middle of the night to work on an idea? Pretty sure that would be umm, never before.

What's the worst that can happen if I charge off on a new course toward a dream?

I could fail.

Okay, so there is that. Failure scares me. It always has.

But I've got a pretty decent track record of success, a good history. So it stands to reason that I could survive a little set back, I could weather a mistake or two, right?

I'm never going to know unless I try.

One thing is for certain. It is far more fun having so many ideas that I can't get them down fast enough, than it was to be numb and stagnant.

I apologize to anyone who has spent time with me lately who leaves thinking, whoa, does she ever shut up?

And to my family...my ideas keep evolving (and changing) and getting scrapped. But your input, your listening ear, your patience with me, is invaluable.

Thank you for being my sounding board.

Someday soon I will make you proud.

I promise.

What the heck is an "almost daughter" anyway?

One of my favorite all time Sadie pics.

I recently had to write a bio for myself, and can I just say...it was the hardest thing ever, to make me and my ordinary life sound interesting and my thoughts readworthy.

As I was describing what I write about most and where my inspiration comes from, I realized I could not exclude Sadie, my "almost" daughter from the list. For those of you who don't know this already, she currently lives in our family room. She's lived with us on and off for the past couple years, and is the daughter I wasn't able to have, an older sister to my boys, an integral part of our family. My friend.

I call her my "almost" daughter because although I'd like to claim her as my own, she already has two other moms; her biological mom, and her adoptive mom. I'm just the one she lives with. Her time with us, since the day she whooshed into our lives, has always felt fleeting.

As in, she could bolt out of here at any time.

Right now we are her safe haven, her place to breathe, a stepping stone on her life's path.

And that makes what will come next, extremely hard for me. You see the friend in me can't wait for her to soar. For her to be strong, confident, whole and on a good path. The mom in me, while she wants that also, does not ever want her to leave.

I'm a realist. I know that ultimately she will leave us. Shoot, her being independent is what we are working toward. But what if she never comes back.

When she first came to live with us in 2009.



Sadie's not like my boys. She wasn't born into this family, or raised by this family. She's here by choice right now.

And when she leaves, she will not be obligated to return.

There, that is what I am most afraid of.

It gives my heart a little hitch every time we argue, or I nag too much, or I expect too much. What if she will someday not only be prepared to leave (as in strong and confident), but also ready to leave because I have driven her off?

It's really hard to be a friend, and a mom.

I'm trying to treasure every moment I can with her. The girly times, the goofy moments, even the silences that occur when we find ourselves on the opposite sides of an issue. I am aware that these moments will not go on forever. They weren't meant to.

In a perfect world... our lives will forever be intertwined. The reality is, that I don't know this for sure.

Guess that is the risk you take when you love with your whole heart.

Fun times: Celebrating her 21st birthday.

For now I am enjoying the time she is with us. All the moments. The good, the bad, the fun, even the everyday.

 A group of women I recently met that inspired me in a million ways.

Thank you.

I cannot even put into words how inspired I am by you.

Yes, you.

I know you are thinking "she's not talking to me", but really I am. In ways you are not even aware of, you inspire me to be the best person I can be.

I meet new women almost every day. And I am always inspired by your beauty, your confidence,  your strength, your intelligence, and your comfort in your own skin.

It does not matter your age, size, financial or marital status, or what you do for a living... you all inspire me.

For a girl who spent the majority of her life getting along better with the boys....I sure have got a fascination with girl power lately.

All at once I am energized by women of all ages.

Growing up I had two close girl friends, the rest of the time I meshed better with the boys. It wasn't that I was a tomboy or an athlete, nor did I date very much. Boys just seemed easier, and I liked knowing where I stood them.

There wasn't drama or games, or silly tests you had to pass to be accepted. I was just liked or not liked, teased or not teased, included or not invited. I appreciated how uncomplicated the boys were about how they felt about me. Give me honest and straightforward any day, I understand that.  It made it easier to read the situation, the person, the group and not find yourself aligning with the wrong crew.

 A group of girls I know who found their tribe early on and have stuck together through

thick and thin. A group of women I admire and envy.

Growing up, the girls scared me. It was not so easy to figure out where you fit in. There was envy, manipulation, jealousy, alliances I never did understand, and well, what seemed like way too much work involved. Too much drama. I never really did align with a group.

So it is funny that now, as I reflect back on my life, I wonder, did I miss out? Maybe.

Or perhaps I just wasn't ready. Maybe I needed to grow up, to gain my own self confidence, to be able to appreciate the girls. Maybe I was the envious one? Maybe it was always me.

Whatever the reasons, can I just start over? Hopefully now it is my time to bond with the girls, to find my tribe.

Hello, my name is Terri. It's really nice to meet you.

P.S. As a result of this new found energy, I will be contributing to the home grown group blog called The Mode Life. Their mission is to share honest perspectives from a diverse collection of women, by providing informative and enjoyable reading. I like to think of it as they are giving women a voice, through words. I hope to reciprocate to all of you who inspire me, by giving a little inspiration back. Please check it out. Have you got something to say? Guest posting and additional contributors are always welcome.

Turn that frown...

Crap happens. More than likely you have experienced one, or more, of the following scenarios.

You are at a store, you prepare to check out, but the cashier is super unfriendly. No smile. No greeting. Very little eye contact.

Awkward. You check the sign, was the line closed or something?

You are attempting to get information from a person at a help desk, only the person that is supposed to be "helping" you is responding in a tone that is decidedly unhelpful. Rude, almost.

Embarrassed. You suddenly feel like a dumb a**, was the answer to your question that obvious?

You get a new job and a coworker, instead of welcoming you to the team, is giving off the body language and facial expressions that you are definitely "not" welcome. As in, go back where you came from.

Uncomfortable. You wonder, did I make a big mistake?

These type of situations happen more often than they should. Unfortunately, we can't do much to prevent them. But what we can do, is exert a little control over what happens next, and how it affects us.

Do we let the crap or crappy attitude of a random person upset us, ruin our mood and our experience? 

I used to.

I'd make things worse by being "less than friendly" back, you might even say I got downright  bit**y. It might have made me feel better for a minute or two, but it no doubt in the end made things worse.
As I grow wiser, I have begun to employ a new tactic to deal with this type of  situation.

I now attempt to "kill" the unfriendly person with kindness.

Around.

Obviously, the person with the bad attitude is suffering from something. Maybe they don't feel well, maybe life situations have got them down, maybe they feel under appreciated,  or maybe they just aren't happy in their line of work. (Remember Hermey the elf from Rudolph, who wanted to be a dentist and not a toymaker?).

Whatever the person's reason for being hateful, it won't be obvious to you. But the attitude will be hard to miss.The easiest and most common reaction is to be a jerk back at them. But how about trying a little kindness instead.

Yes, I am serious.

It throws them off balance.
They are probably used to others giving attitude back to them, so being nice, may actually throw them off balance. It might stop them in their tracks. It might make them think.

It takes the wind out of their sails.
They have come to expect that you will react badly to their attitude with some negative energy of your own, allowing them to control the situation. If you do not acknowledge their bad attitude, instead, transmitting friendly, positive, and understanding energy at them, you may take the wind out of their sails, and take away their control.

Think about it, how can they continue to be rude when you are being so nice?

It gives you back the control.
So, the next time it happens to you, try a new approach. Try being kind. It may not, in the end, help the other person's situation, but I guarantee that you will feel a whole lot better, by taking the high road.

People shouldn't have rotten attitudes. But they do. Don't let their bad mojo ruin your day.

Maybe a little kindness from you is all they need to turn that frown around.

What is your reaction when faced with someone who is "less than friendly"?

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"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet." 

--William Shakespeare, from Romeo & Juliet

My full name is Terri. Not Teresa, or Taryn, or Terril.

Just Terri. 

Terri with an “i”.

I recently realized that I have a habit of name shortening.

As in, I take liberties with people's names. Shelly becomes “Shell,” Jennifer is “Jen”, Rachel, is sometimes “Rach”, etc.

I also realized that I have always loved having my name shortened by someone.

“Ter”, “T”, or my dad’s favorite, “T.T.” are all welcomed, even encouraged, by me.

For me, the shortening of my name is a sign of intimacy between you and me. A familiarity. A, "Hey I know you well enough, and like you well enough, to call you this." And, I see it as a sign that you feel comfortable enough around me to take liberties with my name.

Apparently not everyone feels that way. People actually dislike it.

Oops. Who knew?

Now that I have been set straight, I am attempting to not take that name shortening liberty with others, until I know whether it is welcomed.

Most of my life I've worked hard at “making others comfortable”, it comes from years of hostessing and being in sales, and I usually have people’s preferences filed away in a corner of my mind. Like remembering that this person does not like onions, or this person will only drink out of a glass, not a plastic cup, or this person hates Mexican food. 

Remembering little details like that, is my way of showing a person that I care about them. By really listening to what you say, and intentionally noting and remembering your preferences, I hope to convey to you that you are important to me.

With this new revelation about my name shortening tendency, I have added a new category to my brainfile. People who do not like their name shortened.

It might seem like a trivial thing, but I see it as a wake up call, a reminder that as individuals  we perceive things differently. What I view as a welcome compliment, you may see as something completely opposite. Gives me something to think about.

For all of you who have expressed to me your dislike of the name-shortening thing, I will attempt to honor your wishes and stop taking liberties. But please know that if I do slip up, it is because I like you and feel comfortable around you, and not because I wish you any disrespect.

And by all means, feel free to take liberties with my name. I'll take it as a compliment.

What about you, how do you feel about having your name shortened?

Sometimes I forget to share just how lucky I am.

I am married to a bona fide handy man.

Because of this, I cannot even begin to calculate how much money we have saved over the years on repair bills or replacement items. I am convinced that there is nothing he can't fix. He takes things apart that I would not touch with a ten foot pole. Things that have parts and pieces so small, I can barely see them. And he always finds a way to "fix" a problem.

We recently had an ant situation in our cottage bathroom. Our "bug guy" as I like to call him, came and sprayed, but did not successfully handle the situation. There were still big black ants randomly marching out from under the toilet base. Gross.

Let me just say it is an uncomfortable feeling, especially for a girl, when you have to sit on the toilet knowing ants might be crawling up the side.

So, Mike decided to tackle our ant situation.

First, he put on his very fashionable "under the cottage suit".

I think he's kind of sexy in a "guy in uniform" sort of way.

Then, armed with ant killer stuff and a flashlight, he prepared to crawl under the cottage to see what's what.

This is his irritated you-are-not-really-taking-pictures-of-me-for-your-blog-look. 

Just watching him slide the panel back to reach the opening caused my claustrophobia to kick in. No way could I crawl into that hole. No way could I rescue him, should something happen to him under there.

Checking out the situation.

Just think about it.

He has no idea what is lurking in the dark. What if there's a snake, or a bed of snakes, a whole super colony of ants, or a skunk? I totally freaked myself out with this train of thought and made Mitch be on standby should Mike need assistance.

He didn't, of course.

Somehow this shot makes it look like there is more room under there. 
He has to crawl on his belly and in some spots cannot even turn his head.

My hero. 

Unfortunately, the results of his trek underneath the cottage netted a whole lot of nothing. He didn't see any nests of ants, or an indication that they were eating away at the underbelly of our cottage. But he sprayed under there just to be safe. And I have to admit that since then, the ant situation has been much more tolerable.

  

I am in awe of what he can do.

Admittedly he sometimes takes longer than I want him to in doing the repairs (that patience thing rearing its ugly head again), but he always comes through.

I so love that about him. 

My lack of mad skills in the fixing department came from both my parents. It's genetic. Did I ever tell you about the time my dad blew up a toaster? And, he once exploded a bike tire while attempting to patch and repair it. My brother-in-laws are not terribly handy either, so Mike is the shining star.

Gotta love my own personal "Mr. Fix It".

Thanks honey, for all that you do.

Thanks to my dear friend Gayle for reminding me of this passage, and for loaning me her book so long ago.

Sunset on Big Star Lake, My happy place

Let It Go

Let go of the ways you thought life would unfold; the holding of plans or dreams or expectations—Let it all go. Save your strength to swim with the tide. The choice to fight what is here before you now will only result in struggle, fear, and desperate attempts to flee from the very energy you long for. Let go. Let it all go and flow with the grace that washes through your days whether you receive it gently or with all your quills raised to defend against invaders. Take this on faith: the mind may never find the explanations that it seeks, but you will move forward nonetheless. Let go, and the wave’s crest will carry you to unknown shores, beyond your wildest dreams or destinations. Let it all go and find the place of rest and peace, and certain transformation.—Danna Faulds, From Go In and In/ Poems from the Heart of Yoga

I recently wrote a post about letting go and have been doing my best to do just that.

To let go.

But somehow crap keeps slapping me in the face, throwing me off balance, and my quills are suddenly raised. (Did you read the quote above?) This is not a good thing, as instantly my positive mojo poofs. And the negative energy begins to grow and the beating myself up begins.

I am sharing this because I need to let go the negative. And I've found in the sharing, I find the strength to do that, piece by piece.

I am my own worst critic. Heck, I take things personally. I self motivate and self monitor.

So, in my heart I know that I am a person of value, that I bring something to the table and that somewhere there is a place for me. But, in my head, I cannot stop the second guessing.

What have I not done, what am I missing, what am I doing wrong? How can they not see the me I know I am?

Is my vision of myself so different from what those who criticize, question and second guess the very core of me, see?

I hope not.

I'm beginning to realize that perhaps it isn't me, it is them. They are the ones who need to step back and take a look at the direction they are going, at how their words and actions are perceived, and what is at their core.

I know what is at mine.

I am a person with a plan. A goal. A path. A list. Always.

Well, until now.
What lies before me is unclear. It's a grey area.

I have never been good without knowing the next step. Grey areas are not my thing. I want a plan. A next move. A direction. A step forward.

Something.

And did I mention that patience is not one of my virtues?

Good things happen to good people. Good things happen to good people. Good things happen to good people. My new mantra.

I know this. I believe this. And, I have come to realize that I am not the only one out there who is a bit lost.

Many of us are trying to determine "What do I really want to be When I Grow Up? "

The knowing that I am not alone, is a huge comfort.

Let's keep telling ourselves that the possibilities are endless. That we are worthy. That our next step is right around the corner.

Transformation, here I come. Oops, I mean here we come.

I am pretty sure that I hate menopause.

You see, I am hot, then I am cold. All night long I sweat, then cover up, then throw off the covers, then....I start all over again. Sometimes it even happens during the day. Hot flashes are ridiculous. I never expected they would bother me. But they do.

And let's not even talk about not sleeping at night because your mind won't shut off.

I find it extremely unfair that women have all the crap to go through. Periods. Childbirth. Post partum depression. Menopause.

Guys walk around on hot summer days, shirtless. Um yes, can I do that please? It would save a lot of shirts from sweat pits.

Guys can pee in the woods, and not have to take toilet paper along with them. Not fair on many levels.

Guys can "not shave" for a week and say they are working on their beards. Girls have to shave their legs every day in the summer or they risk hurting people. Mostly ourselves.

Guys have it so much easier. Good thing then, that women are stronger creatures.
Waaaay stronger.

Rock on, girls.

Not exactly the way I expected to spend my Friday night. I imagined it may have involved pizza, a glass of wine, a book, maybe even a pontoon ride. Instead I spent it in the emergency room in Ludington with three teenagers I barely knew.

Who knew I would actually have such a good time?

Okay, maybe it was not so good a time for the guy we took there. Bloody lip, fuzzy brain. In the end it all worked out okay, the procedural CT scan they immediately order when someone loses consciousness (even for a minute) came out okay, and no stitches were necessary, instead they super glued him up.

Man we so could have done that ourselves (just kidding).

It looked awful. Photo credit courtesy of my son Mitch. I would never have thought to take a pic.

I love it when life just works out sometimes. 

For the first time ever, Mitch has been hanging out with some boys he met at the lake this summer. Wakeboarding, surfing, doing whatever boys do. I was starting to get curious about what kind of kids they really were. My momdar (mom radar) was telling me it might be time to check them out. I'm used to knowing who he hangs with.

Yesterday, when I came up from the beach, they were all here. Perfect. We needed a spotter for a tubing run, and they all agreed to come along. 

I had only met one of the boys, once for about 5 minutes. Mostly I just knew their names, and a couple details I'd gathered up and tucked away about them, one was an outdoorsman, one's parents had split, both went to Grandville high...little things like that. But me, being me, likes the nitty gritty details. What are their grades like, their attitudes, are they polite, are they responsible, do they have jobs? (I did already mention in an earlier post that I like to ask questions, right?).

Yep, it was my idea, I took them tubing. (And yes, there is a bit of residual guilt over me having been the boat driver, for it being my idea, and mostly that this accident occurred on my watch.) Anyway, the girls tubed, then the boys jumped onto what we call our "old lady tube", the virtually unflippable tube that anyone can ride. To make it more exciting, the boys decided to try flipping the unflippable.

They were successful. Somewhere in the third flip, his friend's teeth went thru his lip.

Holy bloody mess. Ick.

Being a mom, I could not send him a half an hour away to the ER with his little brother in charge. Little, is a bit of a misnomer, his brother is 16 going on 30. I put myself in their mom's place and knew I'd want some parental supervision in attendance. It was a face wound after all, and it looked like it was going need 12 stitches.

No question, I'm taking him.

The four of us set off on our adventure, my injured party, his little brother, another friend of theirs, and me. It began a little crazy, the minor concussion my injured party had received, along with the lip cut, had made him a little fuzzy. He was talking a bit of gibberish from the backseat, and at times, he was downright funny. (When I could laugh and stop thinking about all the stitches I thought he would need.)

We made our trek to the Ludington ER, the boys taking my mind off of the worry by joking and talking. After checking in and being told we'd have "quite a wait" (is it ever any different than that?), we settled in. Being prepared, I had brought along a book.

Much to my surprise, I never even opened that book. I never even wanted to.

The time spent waiting in a hospital ER usually crawls by, but this time, it flew by. Me, asking questions of the boys and listening to their answers, them telling me stories, sharing more details of their lives to add to my "mental file" on them, and a grunt or two from the injured guy who had ice on his lip...and a whopping headache.

I cannot tell you how refreshing it was to sit with kids I barely knew, and have them talk to me. Really talk. And not "at" me or begrudgingly, because they had to. It seemed like they wanted to talk to me.  To me, this mom --who wasn't afraid to go all "mom" at them--asking where are your shoes, bossing them around, making them wear their seatbelts in the backseat-- whom they didn't even know.

I loved it. Without the accident, and the ensuing trip to the hospital, I probably never would have had the opportunity to get to know these boys so well, so fast. I'm counting my blessings for the experience.

And I'll cherish it as one of those special bonding experiences that only happens in a crisis. Proof positive they got the Terri seal of approval: by the end of the night I  asked them to check my teeth for Beer Nut skins. And I think we talked about poop. (No, not really.)

Great guys. Great adventure. I am so lucky my kid knows how to pick his friends.

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I ask a lot of questions.

According to my kids, I often don't know when to stop.

In my opinion, if you don't ask, then you don't know. And knowledge is power. I am not embarrassed to stick my hand up and ask for clarification (anywhere) if I do not understand something. I am also not afraid to put myself out there to ask a question, especially if I believe others in the room will also want to hear the answer.

But I do remember a time when I too, was afraid to ask, it might have been as far back as middle school, though. I think somewhere in my growing up years I realized that I was more embarrassed making mistakes from not understanding, than I was by being embarrassed asking questions. And after a few times of putting myself out there to ask, risking ridicule, but not receiving it, I got brave. I realized others were getting answers and clarification out of my questions as well. And even the "speaker" or teacher--- or whomever I was asking, seemed to appreciate the questions.

(Well, most of the time). I can be a little intense.

I know from speaking in front of groups myself, that when someone asks me a question during, or at the end of my presentation, it tells me that they were listening. If something I said was unclear, and I can then clarify it for them, then I, as a speaker, know to incorporate this question or clarification into my message the next time I share it. I love getting questions. I think it makes my presentations better.

Maybe time will give my children the confidence to ask questions. I am hoping that they too, realize the power of knowledge. And that not fully understanding something, only leads to mistakes and frustration all around.

There are times I purposefully try to remain quiet to allow others the opportunity to ask questions. But they don't, or won't. That frustrates and amazes me.

As an example, sometimes in sales meetings with my peers, no one asks any questions after a presentation. So I raise my hand and begin. And oftentimes, people thank me later for clarifying. What? Didn't they too, want to fully understand the material so they could figure out what it means to them?

Sometimes I ask questions even if it isn't information I will ever use, but I like to fully grasp things. Over time, I have come to realize that if I don't understand something, there is a pretty good chance that someone else who may really need to use the information, isn't understanding it either. (Except math. Don't even go there with me. It never makes sense no matter how many questions I ask, or how many times someone explains it).

I will give the younger generation a slight pass about this, at least until they grow up some, but I get pretty frustrated when I send my kids off on a fact finding mission only to have them ask one question. One. Question. What do you learn from that? Usually not nearly all that you need to know.

I have a lot of friends who are ten, or even twenty years younger than I am. In most cases, they do not step up to ask the right questions either. Why is that, I wonder? Don't they want to know? Maybe it is because they just don't know what to ask...or maybe they are just not comfortable enough in their own skin, to ask. Whatever the reason, I would like to bring back the art of asking questions to people of all ages.

I tell my children, my younger friends, heck, even my older friends, if you don't get something, ask a question. It shouldn't be scary. It should be empowering. After all, if you are at a presentation or a meeting, it is the speaker's job to make their message understandable and clear. If you stop at an information desk, it is their job to assist you. If you have a meeting scheduled with a college advisor,  it is their job to advise you. But at all of those places it is your job to ask the questions, to mine the information you need, to fully understand it.

So if a person's message is not coming through clearly, ask for clarification. If a person's answer does not clarify things in your mind, ask another. You should be confident in asking questions to learn the answers. It's called dialogue. 

I believe that asking a question shows your strength, not your weakness. I am also convinced that others around you benefit from your stepping up to ask a question. That's a win/win situation, right? So, ask away. Being a little uncomfortable or nervous when you first learn to ask is normal. But the more you ask, the easier it will be in every aspect of your life. 

Think how smart you will be then?

I am almost 49 years old. I am not afraid to ask questions. Nor should you be.

Knowledge is power, my friend.

I find it ironic (and really sweet) that Leanna, one of Alec's best friends, and an-almost-daughter to us, wrote a blog post about true love and said some nice things about the relationship that Mike and I have together. She said we made it seem effortless. And somehow we make her believe that true love exists. See her full post here.

Ha! Why do I think it is ironic? Because I had just written the following blogpost without even having seen what she had posted yet.
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Really...did I really have to end it on that note?

Last day of our week of vacation and what do I do? I go all sensitive. And well,I kinda freaked out a little I guess. Here's what happened.

There are some things I do that I am completely confident in. Hosting a party (of any size) is one. Driving a boat on a busy lake? Most of the time. But not on Sunday.

First off, it was windy. Second, I could see lots of boats getting ready to take off at 11 am. Third, I was not feeling it. I chose not to ski first, like I often do, but offered to drive Mike if he wanted to go.

He did.

"Which way do you want to go?" I asked. (We have three coves we can head to from our dock).

"You're the driver, you choose." He replies.

Hmmn. Indecision. I'm a little unsure now. What if I choose the wrong way and all the boat traffic is there? What if I choose the windiest cove? I don't want to choose, boat driver or not.

I know which way I want to go when I go up. It is almost always the same way. The way I see it, if the water is bad and I choose that way--it is my fault. No one to blame but me. But when the skier asks the boat driver to choose, the bad water is kind of their fault. They chose the wrong way. At least that's how I have always felt. Maybe Mike does not really care as he tells me...but that niggling seed of doubt creeps in and so begins my unravel.

I choose a path and off we go. He falls on the up. Was it my fault, I wonder?

Alec tells me I went too fast. I felt like I did it the same as I always do though. More doubt.

"Did I go too fast?" I ask Mike as the boat comes around. Prepared to take the blame if I did something wrong.

"No" he says. I'm still unsure.

He gets up on the second attempt but already boats are bearing down on us. I take a turn that cuts off a portion of the cove to get ahead of the pack. Mike falls again.

Now the personal watercraft  brigade is barreling at us. All five of them in a pack, cruising the lake at 10:56 am. (Four minutes before anyone is even supposed to be out making a wake on the lake. Yes, we cheated it too.)

He gets up again and I head off for the "good"" water that lies ahead as more boats are going up all around us. Great. Now I am really getting stressed about navigating between boats, trying to stay ahead of the personal watercraft brigade, and keeping the speed consistent at 32.5 mph for Mike to ski.

I am relieved when the brigade cuts slightly to the left, short of the good water, that's a nice move I think. But I am going faster than they are and pretty soon we are riding parallel to each other. Shore on right. Brigade on left. Doofus on the jet ski in the brigade has no idea he is making a beeline into my direct path. Hey doofus, I am towing someone, I have the right of way.

As we get closer and I have no where to go, the doofus has not even looked over his shoulder, I yell. Same time as Mike shouts, the guy on the jet ski turns to look...surprised no doubt, that we are so close to him. He veers left out of my path, but I still have a super narrow opening to navigate ahead. I think about signaling Mike to drop, but he does it on his own, he sees the situation. He's done.

Relief. No more driving in this wind and the boat traffic. Poor Mike, I think...that was a rotten ski run he just had. What an idiot jet skier. What kickin' wind.

Alec: You should've sounded the air horn at him, mom.

Me: I wanted to, but I didn't have time.

Boat driving is tough. Sometimes I hate it. Thinking that Mike knows this and understands, I was totally surprised when he says:

"Not enough time? You had five minutes to see he was coming?" (As in... if I were driving, I would have sounded the airhorn.) Or at least that is what I hear.

I respond defensively, now feeling very unsure about this whole thing, that I do not have enough hands/skill/ability to drive at the right speed, watch the idiot jet skier to make sure I don't hit him, steer around all other obstacles and decide what I should do next....I'm not that talented. I can't also be expected to sound the airhorn.

"Yeah", Mike says to Alec, "but she can drive, drive, drive".

Would you take that as a compliment? A validation of my driving skills? I didn't.

I heard, yeah...all she can do is drive. One thing at a time. No air horn blowing is possible out of her.

Now I am not only feeling defensive. But hurt. And mad. My face apparently confirms this.

Mike hollers from the back of the boat, "What. I'm kidding. I'm joking. Can't you take a joke?"

Nope. I guess I can't.

I drive the boat back in silence to our boat lift. We unload in silence. I do not look at Mike. I go to my chair, grab my book, lay down. I know I am being sensitive, but his words keep replaying over in my mind, and I cannot find a good way to take his comments.

I know I need to let it go. I'm doing a yoga breath. I'm attempting to chill. And then Mike comes over. He's pissed. His body language is telling me this. I think... don't say it. Don't say anything. Just let me get over this.

"You're not really mad are you? Can't you take a joke?" But he says it in an I am so pissed way, not a nice, I'm sorry kind of way.

The tears start welling up. I open my mouth to try to explain why I am upset. I attempt it. I repeat his words and ask, how can I hear these as a joke? Tears are rolling down my face now.

He interrupts, "I'm so pissed off that you are mad about this. You are twisting my words around, and now I am mad." He might even have stomped his foot. (Or maybe I am just imagining that).

Great. Hold on here. I'm the mad one. I'm the hurt one. I'm the one who has the right to be pissed off, aren't I?

So how did I get to be the one in the wrong? And he's yelling at me on the dock. And it is the last day of our vacation.

What the heck?

I know that I am sensitive and that I get stressed when I drive the boat. But here's the thing. I am stressed when I am made fun of and criticized by our children who do not even drive the boat. And to top it all off, I am even more unsure of myself when Mike doesn't take my side.

He didn't do his thing that makes me feel better, that makes me feel less like an idiot for not sounding the airhorn when clearly he would have been capable of it. He was sarcastic. He made a joke of me.

He hurt my feelings.

I think maybe there is truth to the Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus thing. How can two people see/hear/live the same conversation so differently?

All I needed was confirmation that it was a tough situation and that I handled it okay. Even a gentle, next-time-you might-try-blowing-the-air-horn comment would be better than the way this whole thing went down.

That's what I needed to feel from my boys. A little support. A little love. A little less sarcasm.

Guys are so weird. Admittedly girls are sometimes sensitive. I am sensitive. And a seed of doubt about my own ability, grows and grows with both sarcasm and criticism. Until I freak out. Hey, I am normally a strong woman. I mostly hold my own. But there are times when I lack confidence. And I am sensitive. And I freak out.

In Leanna's words:
Fights happen, misunderstandings happen, but being able to work through it is more important than what the incident is about. Its finding the middle ground, the common area, and getting there. It's moving forward, together. Forever and Always.

She's right.

Later, it was all okay. Crisis passed. Common ground found.

Leanna, you are wise beyond your years. And I love you forever and always.

And Men are really from Mars.....

P.S. I did apologize to Mike for being so sensitive. I don't think he has apologized yet for getting pissed at me, for getting mad at him.