A Little Gratitude Practice

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In general, we are not a prayerful family. I’d call myself agnostic if I had to label it (which I don’t, personally) and growing up in a rigid, Catholic school sort of taught me to zone out and recite, as opposed to really lifting up hopes, worries and love to a Higher Power.

But honestly, it is one thing I’ve had a hard time reconciling as I became a mom. I always said my prayers before bed as a kid, and I think whether or not you believe, it is a wonderful way to reflect on your day and to be thankful for what you have. But for our family, it felt inauthentic and awkward to institute prayer for our kids.

A few weeks ago, I came up with a solution that has been the best thing to happen in my daily life. Before bed, the kids and I sit down together and we create a gratitude list. It’s nothing formal, we each take turns sharing things we are grateful for from that day. Tate usually only lists one or two (like he’s grateful for his scooter or toy cars), but Lu and I shoot for 10 each. Lucy almost always ends up with at least 15, and we all end up going to bed with big smiles on our faces.

So far this has been the perfect solution, but I’m sure it will evolve as we all grow. I love the idea of fostering gratefulness in my kids, and seeing how being grateful and reflecting on the gifts life has given them helps in so many other aspects of their lives (like self esteem and happiness). For now, this little daily gratitude practice is helping all of us in big and small ways, and I’m so glad we found it.

It’s Your Birthday, and All I Got You Is This Dumb Blog Post

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Besties Since the Age of Eight

Today is my best friend’s birthday. Honestly, I have a couple of lucky ladies who are of best friend status in my life (wait, I think that makes me the lucky one), but Theresa is the one I’ve known the longest, and has seen me through the best and worst times of my life. I met Theresa in third grade and for whatever reason the Universe decided to let me keep her for the next 22 years. She is truthfully one of the most happy, inspired, zen, generous people I’ve ever known. She is also one of the silliest, most spastic, cheesiest people I’ve ever known. Right now you might be thinking, “Megan, how in the hell can someone be both zen AND spastic?!” And I would tell you I have no idea, but Theresa pulls it off.

For the first half of our decades-long friendship, I fancied myself the leader of our little group. I thought I was in charge and Theresa was my trusty side-kick. But I’ve been shown over and over and over again that I am but a mere player in this amazing woman’s story. She is doing such incredible things with this life she’s been given, helping people and working so damn hard every single day, I’d be honored to be even a small footnote in the novel of her life. (Sidenote: T, I’d better not be a footnote! More like a chapter called, “How to get in a car accident with a Pizza Shuttle delivery car on the first day you have your license, while wearing full camouflage and facepaint.”)

Today is Theresa’s birthday and since I can’t be there with her in person I figured I’d post some hilarious photos of us looking amazing. Because what else is a blog for if not for posting iPhone photos of scrapbook pages from 15 years ago. Huzzah!

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This was at our 8th grade graduation. I seem to be wearing curtains. Also, if I remember correctly, this was my first time wearing mascara and it ran all over my face and I looked like I’d been in a fight, which was weird since we were graduating in a church (Catholic school girls, whoop!). Theresa looks exactly how I remember her, which is totally happy all the time. I don’t remember her wearing white pantyhose, but this was 1997 and we all made dumb decisions.

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In high school we both had sassy short haircuts, that we liked to whip around for photo ops. We also both liked to get slushies from the local Dara’s Fast Lane. This is actually right across the scene from the Pizza Shuttle Car Crash Incident.

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I believe this was taken the day I broke up with a boy who was the worst boyfriend ever, but I was still pretty bummed about it. Because I was a teenager and had a bad haircut and getting bummed about horrible boys that were stupid was kind of my thing. As per usual, Theresa is the happiest person in the room. You’re probably seeing a theme here…

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I graduated from high school at the end of my junior year, and while I was so happy to move on to college, I was feeling kind of blah about all the things I was going to miss my senior year. So the morning of my last day, Theresa and another friend did this to my car to make sure I had a proper send off. I remember crying, I was so happy. This is the kind of friend Theresa is, the kind that realizes something silly and fun might just cure the blahs that ail you. Also, I can’t remember what that crap is on my car, but it took forever to wash off.

Happy Birthday, Theresa! All I got you was this dumb blog post, but I know you’ll love me anyway, because that’s what best friends do.

Be Brave

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A friend of mine sent me this video the other day and told me she was thinking of me. You see, my friends, I have been having a tough time. And even though I’m a writer and a storyteller at heart, I have a hard time talking about when things are hard. I gloss it over and suck it in and before I know it, I’m like a shaken up bottle of soda, ready to explode. This is something I’m working on, talking about when things are hard and asking for help, and this wonderful friend knew this. Her note:

I was driving in the car with my daughter and she was singing this song and I thought of you!! All of us, really! xo

Let’s try to be brave this weekend, okay. Just for a day or two. All we really need is five minutes of courage, right? Five minutes could change everything.

A Little Bit of Vinyl

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This summer my in-laws decided to clean out a few sheds on their property that held pretty much everything under the sun. My father-in-law is a bit of a collector…and he does not like to throw things away. Add in the four children and all of their stuff that had amassed over the years, and there was quite a bit of treasure hunting going on.

When the dust settled, I was the proud owner of one mid-century modern-ish looking bedroom set, one pair of cowboy boots, a beautiful shelving unit, a giant canvas painting of a rooster (I have no idea how I ended up with that one) and one record player. And oh, how I love that beautiful, old record player. I started begging for one a few months back, and poor Trent loudly voiced his concern about me completely transforming in to a hipster with no chance for return. For proof of his endless suffering, here is a photo I took earlier this summer when I forced him to go in to a record store with me.

Trent is pretending to be a hipster.

It just looks uncomfortable, doesn’t it?

Anyway, apparently nagging works, because when three (or possibly four) record players were found in the sheds, I ended up discovering one had been placed in the trunk of my car without my knowledge. Trent arranged the whole thing and then set it up for me on our stereo at home. The only issue we’ve had is the audio output is a little wonky (probably due to it’s years in hibernation in an old shed in the country), so we can’t get the volume up as loud as I’d like. But I love it just as it is, wonky audio and all.

A few weeks ago I put the word out on the Crazybananas Facebook page that I was looking for a few fun record stores in Kansas City. I got a bunch of awesome recommendations, but guess where I ended up finding my first five records? Some amazing vintage store downtown? Um, no. I found my used vinyl beauties at a Half Priced Books next to my local Target. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.

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I picked up a few used albums from classic artists like Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Simon and Garfunkel and Ella Fitzgerald. I also bought one new record by Joni Mitchell, just to splurge. The used albums cost anywhere from $2 to $7. Cheap, and beautiful.

I love the stories behind these records. Their old owners treated them well, and I find myself wondering about where they came from. Who was this Ralph person, and did he realize how unfortunate his last name was?

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I plan on obtaining quite a few records as I go, and hopefully someday I’ll have a collection that I can pass down to my kids. My wish is this will be yet another memory they can hold on to from their childhoods. Every morning I try and turn on a record while I drink coffee and they have breakfast. Tate dances and Lucy sings, and I sit there in my happy spot on the couch, thinking, “Not exactly a hipster’s life, but I think this one is pretty damn fantastic.”

Rumination’s on Being a Second Grader

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I remember second grade so very well. It was the year things changed for me. Until that year I’d been “normal.” A little odd and silly, perhaps, but a girl with a lot of friends and a happy little life. I was a lot like my little Lulu is now, sunny and funny and sweet. But in second grade my parents decided to move me to a private religious school in order for my brother, who had some learning issues, to get more attention than they thought he’d get at a public school.

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From that year until well into junior high, I was considered a bit of a weirdo. Kids were mean and unwelcoming, and the teachers didn’t seem to notice, or care. My mom still recalls going to a parent teacher conference where the teacher informed them I never had a partner at computer time. “Why not?” my parents questioned. Well, it seemed that no one wanted to be my partner, but I told the teacher it was okay, and I didn’t mind working by myself, so there I sat all year. Alone.

Now, I should be clear that none of these kids were inherently mean, just scared of someone different and following the pack, as many kids (and adults) tend to do. I also should point out that so much good came out of this situation. I eventually found a wonderful tribe of misfits and those people were some of the best friends a girl could ever ask for. Still are. I also know that I wouldn’t have become who I am today without these experiences, and I think I’m pretty rad. I don’t know if that means I’m happy I was bullied, I just know that I was blessed that I found a path that didn’t crush me or send my self-esteem to a point of no return. Many aren’t so lucky.

So today when I sent Lu off to second grade, I looked at her happy skipping body and her smiling eyes and found myself praying to the universe or God or whatever is out there that she is held safe these long school days. I told her she is loved beyond compare and that will never change, regardless of the number of awards she wins or friends she has. I told her about my experience, in the hopes that if she sees someone suffering, she will reach out. Those people who reached out when I was in second grade? They saved me. I think of them often and silently thank them for every gesture of kindness they bestowed upon me.

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I have big hopes for this girl. Not hopes for straight A’s or medals or trophies, but hope that her light can reach someone that needs it this year. I hope her smile or kind words from her lips will make a small difference to someone. I may not know much, but I know my hopes will be fulfilled.

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