Forgoing the Machete

"I have the best mom in the world."

Those undeserved words last night show the power of crawling up on a loft bed when you're too tired after a long day.  Listening to a boy's wonder at burrowing owls and the difference between vultures and buzzards and "did you know that all black birds in Florida are red-winged, Mommy?"

These past few years, I've fought the end of the day, night time thing with the kids.  I'll read a story from time to time, say prayers, always a kiss and a hug goodnight, too many times a curt word about mommy being tired and needing some quiet.  Aren't I entitled to a bit of quiet after a day spent schooling and running and refereeing too many fights?  For damn sure, I am. I make sacrifices.  I've worked hard today.  I deserve a break.  The problem is, I never met an entitled person I liked.

I measure my life and my days by many things. How much did I get done today? What did I accomplish? My list is long and when I cross things off I think I feel better, like life is moving in the right direction. Me and the myopic machete slashing through life.

Since February, and reading the love chapter in Corinthians most days with the boys, I've been mulling measuring my life in love.  It hurts to see how small I live.

"I can make all kinds of sacrifices..." home school, rarely have time or energy for friends, my thread of sanity after the 30th fight today...
"and yet if I do not have love it is all an awful noise..."  "my whining, and scolding and demanding and curt bedtime no more talking!..."

None of the tasks, sacrifices, accomplishments---whatever I'm calling them today---matter if its done without love.  Love in my voice, love in my eyes, love in my actions.

A list will have you send your boys off to bed with a quick hug and a kiss.
Love will send your weary body climbing up a loft ladder to listen to little hearts delight.

Laughing real belly laughs with my boy as he reads Calvin and Hobbes...he doesn't just read...his expression and voices and inflections...watching him choose "one last strip" with the discernment of an aficionado...

The last hour of my day slips away...I would normally measure that hour in dishes done, floors swept, rooms straightened, to do lists made...everything in order, quarter-bouncing tight and in place.

The last few nights I've chosen to measure it in love and there's laughter everywhere, questions strewn about, smiles all over the place and a mess of giggles.

I feel better, like life is moving in the right direction.

Five Guys

Fraternity

Forbid

"Accompany me today, O Spirit invisible, in all my goings, but stay with me also when I am with my own home and among my kindred.  Forbid that I should fail to show to those nearest to me the sympathy and consideration which thy grace enables me to show to others with whom I have to do.  Forbid that I should refuse to my own household the courtesy and politeness which I think proper to show to strangers.  Let charity today begin at home."
Twenty-First Day Morning in A Diary of Private Prayer by John Baillie

"Love begins at home, and it is not how much we do... but how much love we put in that action."

Mother Teresa - in her speech at the National Prayer Breakfast, Washington D.C. 1994

Foot in Mouth

Particularly the foot and mouth belonging to me.

I was going back and forth about the title of this post.  Faux Pas or Foot in Mouth.  So I looked up the definitions of each. 

Faux Pas: "a social blunder or indiscretion; [from French: false step]".
The French have a way with words.  Even something like being a fool in public sounds fabulous.

Foot in Mouth: "This is used to describe someone who has just said something embarrassing, inappropriate, wrong or stupid." 
Americans, on the other hand, come up with phrases like "foot in mouth". 

I'm American, so I guess that's why the no frills definition of "foot in mouth" really resonated with me. But it was really the word stupid that tipped the scales.


The other day I got an email from a friend which said, "I'm emailing you because I've given up calling.  You never answer your phone."  I get pestered about that A LOT.  And for some reason, I decided today was the day to do something about it.  Clearly, the people calling my phone needed more information about my phone management style. Clearly.

So, I decided to change my chipper, cheerful voicemail greeting from the normal, "Hi, this is Jenny. Thanks for calling!  Leave me a message and I'll call you back.  Have a great day!" to something more informative.

I'm not a one hit wonder on voicemail greeting recordings.  Are you?  I was about the third recording attempt in.  I was feeling glib.  I was feeling catharsis.  It was feeling really quite good to hear myself saying, "Hello, this is Jenny.  Thanks for calling.  I use my phone as an answering service, which is why I hardly ever answer my phone.  If you would like for me to call you back, please leave a message and I will get back to you later in the day." 

In my head, I was hearing a choir singing, "Freedooooommm, Freedooooom!"  I was hearing, "Amen!  Preach it, Sista!"  "Go 'head!  Get it out! Tell 'em what its about!"   So I did.  I went on with my bad self and told 'em what it was all about. 

Bonus tip of the day: Listening to voices in your head is by and large a bad idea.

I continued recording myself saying, "if this is truly an emergency and you need to speak with me this very instant, send me a text message.  And another thing...for your information, I home school my two boys all day long, I cook, I clean, I garden, I have a life.  I enjoy doing other things with my time than answer the phone every single time it rings. So if you get this message and don't like it, oh well."  I'm absolutely sure it was a teensy bit nicer than that.

And then I laughed out loud, thinking, "Oh man, that is hilarious! I really wish I could leave that on there!"
My next thought was, "Oh shit! I better get that greeting off ASAP!  What if someone really heard that?"

So, I responsibly and promptly started recording another greeting.  I was in the middle of getting back to the "record greeting screen" when my phone rang showing a number I didn't recognize.  In my eagerness, to record my new greeting ASAP, I sent the call to voicemail.

mhmm...you read that right. I sent the call to voicemail. I am not lying. You can't make this kind of stupidity up. They did not leave a message, nor did they send me a text message.

I wish I was French.