Break Your Mother's Back: Superstitions Part Two

After posting about superstitions yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking about nonsensical things I do. It's time for complete honesty... I might be more superstitious than I first reported.

Signs I'm More superstitious Than I Thought

I raise my feet when driving over train tracks.
I've done this my whole life, and I don't even know why. I called Mom for the answer. I'm so mad. Mom told me it's because of circulation problems. Are you kidding me? That's not superstition, but it sure is a bit crazy. Guess I'll stop until I get old enough to have circulation issues.

I Say, "Bread and Butter."
Another one learned from Mom. When you are walking with a loved one and a physical object comes between you, say a tree or lamppost, you must both say, "bread and butter." If you don't, you will be separated in life. My children say it (after hearing me say it so much), but my husband never does. We have been married almost 17 years. So far, so good.

I hold my breath and make a wish when driving over a bridge.

Technically, you make a wish going over a bridge in one direction. When you travel back over said bridge, you have to hold your breath. You only get your wish if you don't exhale. Since we'd often only go over a bridge one way, I combined it and now hold my breath and wish at the same time. Haven't kept data on those wishes. One guess where this came from?

I never answer if I hear my name called in the middle of the night.
It's the voice of death calling. Again, blame Mom. This was particularly difficult when I had kids. A simple call of, "Mom" could send chills down my spine. I'd shake hubby. He'd answer. He's a brave man. And he's still with us.

I'll never own a weeping willow.

Why? You guessed it, Mom. According to her, once a weeping willow grows tall enough to cast a shadow, the shadow marks the place of your burial. Creepy.

Mom also used to say when you got chills, it was someone walking over your future grave site. Seriously, this woman is responsible for most of my childhood nightmares. She has one vivid imagination.

Did you see a theme above? I don't know what I believe or don't believe. Things learned in our youth can be so powerful. One thing I know for sure, my mom is one superstitious lady.

And I'm passing it on. My children never go anywhere without watching cracks. It started as a fun game and grew into something I can't control. Although I appreciate their concern for my back, I completely lose patience in a store with small tiles.

My kids also hold their breath when we pass a graveyard. Can't blame my mom for this one, a friend's mom told them. I think she's brilliant. Do you know how many times I've considered pulling to the side of the road next to a graveyard for a few seconds of peace and quiet? I figure I can keep driving once they've all passed out.

Side note: When I called mom for clarification about the above, she told me it's knock three times on wood. "Knocking once won't do anything about a hex." One more. Never sew a stitch from the shoulder to the neck because it leaves an evil pin mark on that end. Always go from the neck to the shoulder, so you don't pierce the spirit.

She says this all comes from our Acadian side, a superstitious group who refused to bend their beliefs and was exiled. Then ended up in Louisiana and became known as Cajuns. Their blood flows in ours. I always learn something when I call Mom, and I call Mom a lot.

Is there any ritual you do without even thinking? Who's to blame responsible?

Knock on Wood: 11/11/11

I'm not superstitious, but I'm pragmatic. "I never get sick." Knock on wood. Do I really believe I'm tempting fate if I don't knock on wood? No. Do I do it every single time? Yes.

I don't consider this "a belief not based in reason or knowledge" because I cover my bases. A simple act of knocking on whatever's nearby, which is rarely wood, never hurts. I also bless those who sneeze. Do I think it saves the soul from being forcefully expelled from the body? Now, that's ridiculous. But I still say, "Bless you." It seems the right thing to do. Black cats, ladders, mirrors... they each give me pause but don't induce fear.

Today is 11/11/11. Next year is the dreaded 12/21/12, the end of time as predicted by the Mayans. Do I believe the world will end then? No. Will I be glad to see the date pass with no significant events? Absolutely. The more significant date in 2012 for me, 8/4/12. My 40th birthday.

I also hate those chain letter emails. Send good tidings to 12 people or face a horrible death. A slight exaggeration, but you've all seen the emails. I hate them, because I feel compelled to send it to 12 more people and pass around the anger and silliness. After all, you're wishing them good luck and avoiding laughing in the face of fate. Who came up with this brilliant scheme anyway? Playing on our fears. Sad.

NaBloPoMo suggested making three wishes today for our blog posts. I laugh in the face... oh, who am I kidding? My three wishes:

1. To be able to eat whatever I want, when I want it, without any concern about calories.
2. For people to get along, whether it's politics or my children. If I had to pick, make it my children.
3. Never to stress again. Please gift me with calmness, take away the worries of life. Or, at the very least, an endless supply of delusion should work.

Of course, I wish for peace on earth and good will toward men. I'd also wish for happiness for all those I love. But that seems selfish, too, so it would have to be for everyone.

What would your three wishes be, if the 11/11/11 genie existed? Are you superstitious?

Hold the Onions: Passion

Oh how I wanted to come up with something knock-your-socks-off interesting for this one. A hidden talent or desire never shared. I quickly realized I am an open book. No secrets. I didn't even lie to my food diary about cheating when I had one of my child's chicken nuggets. Sure enough, right there on November 10th... cheat: one chicken nugget.

Word nerd that I am, I headed to the dictionary for inspiration. Passion is first a powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred, or anger. Easy. I am passionate about my children and my family. Nothing inspires more powerful emotions in me than family. Writing and reading rank up there, too. My passion for reading was planted and fostered by my mom. Writing followed. Thanks to my upbringing, faith is also a passion.

On the flip side, I loathe onions and coffee. Not just a passing dislike, a full blown hatred. How's that for passion? I know onions and coffee never did anything to me, but I stand firm in my utter disgust just the same.

I found myself drawn to the third definition: boundless enthusiasm, the object of such enthusiasm. As boring as this may sound, I value words to such a high degree I refuse to throw them around. Boundless enthusiasm, endless devotion. Wow! I'm dedicated to many things, but endlessly? That's quite the commitment. One I save for friends and family.

Why can't I commit to more passions in a simple blog? I don't take commitment lightly, you might even say I'm passionate about it. My dad is an engineer, my mom a poet. I was raised with equal parts practical and dreamer.

If passion drives you, let reason hold the reins.
Benjamin Franklin

My life summed up by Benjamin Franklin. I believe in passion, wholeheartedly support it in fact, but I think reason should be your guide. Trust your heart, but also run it past the brain. Passion should never step on a group of people or hurt, it should bring about great change and sometimes hold fast in tradition and values. Passion should never make you blind.

I'd travel to Hell and back for my family. I allow that singular passion tunnel vision. I will love them no matter what their choices are, even if I disagree or caution them. My heart will break and mend again several times, yet I will not falter.

A secret passion? I pride myself on fleeting passions. Ones that surface and resurface when I need them to. Politics, comes and goes as issues present themselves. Other times, I want nothing to do with the bickering and complete lack of getting things done. Education, absolutely, but I also believe in summertime and memories. Just yesterday I was passionate about both sides of my hair being even after I spent a half hour curling it. The next day, ponytail.

My goal, find passion when it's needed. On other days, explore. Look for a new passion and be open to it. But that's just my obviously passionate opinion.

A Deflated Bat: ROW 80 Check In

My last check in included this quote from Dr. Seuss:

"I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

In a moment of creativity on Monday, I wrote this little diddy with Dr. Seuss still in my head:

Come on, life, throw at me what you will.
My bat is ready and with it my skill.
I will focus on the words and my story to tell.
All of your attempts to stop me, well, they can go to hell.

Bravado followed quickly by defeat and reality. So easy to pump yourself up, another thing entirely to come out swinging.

My ROW80 update

Writing: A lackluster week. My WIPs saw little to no attention. Chaos and life taunted Sunday's strong words with sick kids, mounting tasks, writing work with deadlines, etc. My bat turned to a balloon and quickly deflated. And I didn't have the air to blow it back up.

Don't worry, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I check in, and move on. Or try to. I plan to kick it, starting tonight. WIPs front and center.

Would love some advice. How do you jumpstart after a slump?

Blogs: Posted daily here and keeping up the pace on Mom in Love with Fiction. Reviewing is behind, but hoping to get two reviews out in the next week.

Miscellaneous: Reading is booming. When I gave into the rundown feeling, probably a bit of the sickness that took my kids out, I sat in bed and read. Keeps the writing brain engaged, so a definite positive.

Exercise: Two of the last three days, so not bad. I cut back on the intensity, but still exercised. And I'm very happy to report... no sugar since last Friday. Yeah. I do think it's contributing to the brain fog and rundown feeling. This, too, shall pass, right?

I've been checking in on my ROW80 friends and NaNoers, but not like I'd like. Striving for more blog visits and comments this week. Hope every one is doing well.

Home is Where the Heart is

Home is where the heart is. Cliched, but true.

Today, NaBloPoMo asked, "When was the first time that you realized that your home was not like other people's homes?"

Maybe I'm in the minority, or simply misunderstand the question, but I always knew my home was different. Moving defined my family, so structures were of little consequence. Home was where we slept, where we kept our clothes. In no way did four walls define our family.

Even as a young child, people wondered why our family moved so much. A life full of constant prying questions from people who just didn't understand.

I remember the story when my dad called his father yet again to tell him about another move. His dad simply said, "Boy, you need to learn how to hold down a job." My dad spent 30 years with GE, had an amazing career, but his path wasn't clear to a lot of people.

Still, if home is truly where the heart is, then aren't all our homes the same. Home is humor, good meals, tears, and coming together. It's balancing the hard times with the good times. When the pendulum swings to the bad, our youth is lost and our hearts cling to something else. What is home in that case? I don't know. I am blessed not to know, and my heart goes out to people who do.

Home is the memories we conjure up in times of happiness, sadness, and need. I want my kids' memories full of family moments, times we laughed and loved, not the look of their bedroom or particular furnishings.

I want them to embrace differences. How boring would the world be if all our homes, all our memories, were the same?

Early on, don't we all know our homes are different? Unique? Special?

*****

Mom wrote a post earlier this year about home: House that Grew Me. Take a moment to read it. As she so eloquently said, "it’s not about a home at the end of the day; it’s about the people we love that also grew up in the home or the many people who visited . . . A structure is temporal; building and keeping relationships are forever."

Beyond a Shadow of a Doubt

Today I am sharing a very intimate post written by my mother and Depression Cookies co-author, Angela Silverthorne. It's also a fitting answer to today's NaBloPoMo prompt.

*****

Can you imagine a year seeking medical advice, going from one doctor to another with no answers, only an increase of symptoms? Can you imagine after a series of neurological tests and evaluations being told you have a “chronic and progressive movement disorder, the cause is unknown; there is no cure; and it involves the malfunction and death of vital nerve cells in the brain” better known as Parkinson’s? Can you imagine?

A year later, can you imagine dealing with your own life’s uncertainties and then the death of the woman who helped rear you, your grandmother? Or the year after, imagine your husband having a heart attack, pacemaker, stint, and afterwards developing grand mal seizures? And in the middle of all this, your mother who had been sick for a year was told she had pancreatic cancer and only lived seven weeks. Over the next two years, what might seem inconsequential to some, but devastating to me, was the loss of my seventeen and sixteen year old dogs. Can you imagine?

These events occurred between January 2004 and May 2011. If I had read these accounts in the paper or had been told this by someone, my first response would be, “How did they manage?” That’s when the imagination would end. I wouldn’t want to go there. But I did. Can you imagine?

In March 2011, I was told a new machine would be coming to Duke University that would help diagnose Parkinson’s. July 2011, the I-123 DaTscan was up and running. And on September 22, 2011, I was their seventh patient to have the test. Ten days later, I was told beyond a shadow of a doubt that I did not have Parkinson’s, any Parkinsonian related diseases, MS or ALS. I’d been on two Parkinsonian drugs for almost seven years. Can you imagine?

Today I am on a mountaintop. Looking back, I realize I made it. I made it through the trials. I laughed, I smiled, I had such intense joy I can’t even describe it—four more beautiful granddaughters and a treasure hold of precious time with my grandmother and mother before they died. God provided it all, not me.

During my husband’s medical problems, we sat for hours wondering what would become of us, who would take care of us, and truly began to understand what our “for better or for worse” vows meant. When I slipped into despair even for a moment, I sought God. An early morning sunrise on the river, a gorgeous sunset at the beach, or a granddaughter’s funny face or remark filled my narrow vision. Every day was a trial, yet every day was filled to overflowing with God’s love and grace. The Bible talks about light and dark, salt and sweet; it was all there, every day. And I saw it. Can you imagine?

Beyond my faith, Michael J. Fox has truly been an inspiration. I have treasured his perseverance and determination. His words are a life lesson for all of us, “You know, there’s a rule in acting called ‘Don’t play the result.’ If you have a character who’s going to end up in a certain place, don’t play that until you get there. Play each scene and each beat as it comes. And that’s what you do in your life: you don’t play the result . . . Act as if it’s the way you want it to be, and it’ll eventually morph into that. Life is what you put into it and how much you take out of it. You put in more than is expected, and you take out less than you want.”

Beyond a shadow of a doubt? A new lease on life? What do you do with that? Standing on the mountaintop, I turn to look forward. Yes, the shadow is still there. I don’t know what’s coming. I do know there’ll be another valley, there’ll be more trials, but I’m prepared – you don’t play the result. And, beyond a shadow of a doubt, God will be there. Can you imagine?

Feathers and Stone: Balance

Balance, such a delicate thing. Think about it, a feather thrown onto one scale throws off the balance. A feather. Life rarely hands us feathers, instead casting stones if not boulders in our direction.

Mom and I have each tackled the idea of balance before: Mom's What the... You Want Me to Do What? and my The Delicate Balancing Act of Life. We both agreed on the importance of finding balance, but neither of us came to an easy conclusion on how to achieve it.

One thing I've learned, striving for daily balance is near to impossible. Overall balance judged on a weekly or monthly basis is a more reasonable target. There are some days all your effort goes into putting out fires. Other days, you give into the need to smell the roses and simply relax. Admittedly, these moments are often forced on us by a snow day or sickness.

My biggest obstacle to balance, guilt. It's my boulder. Some have it, others don't. Maybe the key to achieving balance is ridding yourself of guilt. If I work all day, I feel guilty about not spending time with my husband, children, and friends. If I play all day, the work stacks up and taunts me. And let's not even mention the dust bunnies and dirt laughing at me from every corner of the house.

Making family time is akin to healthy eating habits... you just have to do it. No, I don't want to balance my sugar intake. I want to be my perfect weight, exercise when I feel like it, and eat whatever I crave when I crave it. Ah, if only life worked that way.

Putting guilt aside, because we all have to find our own ways of dealing with it, the best thing you can do to make family time is schedule it. I schedule my work with prioritized to-do lists, because without those I'd sit and look at an overwhelming pile and be lost.

Same can be said of family, friends, and husband time. From Friday night to Sunday night, I schedule a date with each of my children. For example, Friday nights after her swim practice, my middle daughter and I go to Starbucks (her choice) and chat for an hour. Every week. The first Friday, I was exhausted and not looking forward to it. But she was giddy. She asks me every week if we are still doing Fridays. We haven't missed one yet.

Dedicated time for family and husband works the same way. Schedule a night out with the girls or a dinner with hubby. The hours before and after may be a mad scramble, but the moments with your husband and friends will be worth it.

Finally, work. I've started making a to-do list based on three factors: what has to be done that day, what should be done in the next week, and what can wait. Then comes focus. I work from home, so it's difficult to walk away at 5pm.

When my six-year-old told me she hated the computer and wanted to smash it, I took it to heart. I close the computer from the time I pick the kids up at the bus stop to the time my husband takes them up to bed. Then I work for another hour or so before making time to sit down with hubby and watch a television show.

There's no perfect solution to finding balance, but one thing I know for sure... it won't work itself out. Be proactive, take on the challenge, and a modicum of balance you will find. Funny, I think I just had a Yoda moment. But I digress, start small and build. Handle the inevitable unforeseen and get back to the plan.

Good luck!

What's your best tip for finding balance between your work life, children, and relationships?