Choices

 When I was a kid, I can vividly remember sitting at the dinner table alone.  Not because we did not sit down as a family and eat dinner, but because I was the last one to finish eating.  I am a very slow eater, but generally, my pace was credited to Mom's goulash or frozen mixed vegetables.  

Even today, I can't even.  

I still don't love mixed vegetables, but goulash I can sort of stomach.  My main question for goulash makers is why no cheese? Cheese makes everything seem better.  Poor goulash.  Just noodles and tomatoes and such.  It's sad really.  

Anyway-on Goulash night, I'd be given two choices.  

1.  Eat the dinner.

2.  Go to bed when the timer went off.  

You see, when everyone else was finished at the dinner table, Mom would set the dreaded oven timer.  When the oven timer went off, if the food wasn't gone, it was a fate worse than death.  

STRAIGHT TO BED.  

What I wouldn't do to be sent to bed from the dinner table now.  

We generally ate dinner at a normal time so I'm talking 5:30pm or 6:00pm ish.  We also didn't have the activities that our families have today so that meant our evenings were spent at home watching our favorite episodes of Family Ties or Alf. 

You did NOT want to go to bed early and miss the time around the television laughing at that crazy alien.  

My point-I do have one.  

When as a child, I was faced with two choices that were both offensive, I had to decide which was a worse fate.  Swallowing the awful lima beans and cheeseless noodle "stuff", OR go to bed early and miss my favorite time with my family.  

To be honest, both choices sucked because I didn't enjoy either one.  BUT-I had to choose.  I had to find a way to make one less offensive than the other.  I even had to make one a "good" choice.  I knew that the consequences of choosing to sit and NOT eat would lead me to an evening alone in my room  AND the disappointment of my famiy.  Especially my sister because she loves me so much and always loved me sitting RIGHT NEXT to her practically breathing her air just because she was my big sister and I adored her.  

If I ate the dreaded dinner, the only person who suffered (greatly, I might add) was me.  But if I didn't, I hurt my mom's feelings and was sentenced to my room.  No Alf.  

Ultimately, eating the dinner was the lesser of two evils.  So I did it and gagged and made a spectacle of myself, but what's new.  Drama was always kind of my thing.  

As an adult, and as of late, we've been faced with a LOT of offensive choices.  It seems in my adult life that the lima beans just keep coming!  They are coming from every direction and all of my very best people are having to eat them too.  It just seems ugly and full of gagging and such.  

But-I have seen so many of my people who are faced with two bad choices, make the best of their terrible fate and it amazes me.  People amaze me.  The Good Does Prevail.  

Adulting is so hard.  Especiallly when you are faced with sickness, job loss, loss of loved ones, stress of jobs, families falling apart...you name it.  The list of bad goes on and on and on.  

BUT-when you look at your choices, although both sometimes sucky, if you make the best of one of them, good things come.  Also-when you put others needs in front of yours, good things come.  Someone once told me the best cure for grief is action.  Taking action by putting others first is like taking a spoonful of sugar with the medicine.  It goes down.  Delightful?  Maybe not, but we can't win them all.  

When faced with two terrible choices, try to make the best of it.  

Eat the cheeseless noodles and lima beans.  Gag if you must.  But do the hard things and don't miss Alf.  

Trust me on this one.  

Happy choosing!  

Referee of Three 

Adulting Is Hard

I realized the other day, that it had been quite some time since I had written down my thoughts.  It is often hard for me to say things that are on my mind in the moment and I think that is why I love writing.  It gives me the chance to process and then "speak".  

This particular topic came about after I posted a quote on social media.  I find myself scrolling through posts of others and I screenshot anything that seems relevant for future use, reflection, or re-posting.  This quote talked about friendship and understanding that I am the type of friend that will disappear and resurface in your life based on the stress level of my own situation.  It's who I am.  It's who I've always been.  And I'm afraid, it is who I'll always be.  

My point, is that when I posted this, I did it  because I saw it and immediately connected with the words  I had two people ask after the post if it was directed at anyone in particular.  The truth is...

IT WAS NOT unless the party in question is yours truly. 

It was directed at me. Finger pointing, words resonating, all the things toward me.  

It occurred to me after the second person asked about it, that THIS is our downfall.  We talk all the time about how damaging social media is to our kids and that they are growing up in this world of anxiety and uncertainty based on posts and likes.  

But-we do it too.  

ADULTS DO THIS TOO!

If you are in your 30's and 40's...you have "grown up" with this as well and it needs to be recognized.  I got my first social media account in 2009.  I was thirty-two years old.  I had three children and I cared DEEPLY what everyone thought when I posted a picture, a blog post, a quote, etc.  For twelve years, I've adulted using social media.  

I meant nothing by posting this quote other than that I connected with it.  It wasn't about anyone.  It wasn't to hurt anyone's feelings or point any unnecessary fingers at others.  

 Here is what I think should happen next.  

We should normalize not using memes, quotes, posts, likes, loves, etc to communicate feelings to others.  If something hurts me, posting about it on social media should not be the first time feelings are addressed.  It shouldn't be second, or third, or anytime honestly.  

Which is what leads me to my next point.  

I have had to talk myself down several times when I've read the words others have posted wondering if maybe that had anything to do with me!  Did I upset them?  When was the last time I talked to them?  Could this post be relating to (fill in the blank)?  Why do we not talk face to face when something hurts us?  Why do we resort to posting something vaguely that the person may or may not see, understand, and recognize?  And why do we naturally assume posts are directed at someone else?  AND-if someone chooses to post their feelings on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, etc., do I really want this to be a character trait of one of my people?  

Let's bring back talking to each other.  The courageous face to face interaction is highly underrated.  

Steve and I were talking the other day how it would be really cool if we could talk to and confide in our friends the way we do with our spouse (or dare I say, my sister).  By this-I mean-Steve (and Chele) get the real me.  Every day, all the time.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  Because I know he will be there when the sun comes up the next day.  He promised me a long time ago that he would and I believe he will.  And because she is my sister and she HAS to love me.  Mom said so.  

I think we are always afraid that if we are honest with people, we will lose them because they won't understand where we are coming from.  

But if being honest and having those brave conversations became more normal, and vague posting became a thing of the past, I BET...

we'd all be better off.  

If you are in my life, please know that when I post about something, it isn't about you.  In a very non-selfish way...it's about me.  Please refer to the following meme for clarification.  

Love and Hugs,

Amy 

Big Kids

On March 19th, 2020, our oldest son came home from college for one night.  We made dinner plans and spent the evening basking in the glory of being together.  We went to dinner and got dessert on the way home.  I remember posting a picture talking about how blessed I was to have them all in the same place at the same time.  

Then-COVID-19 happened and my Big...never left.  

We learned later that week that school would be done remotely and we kicked him out of his bedroom because we needed an office.  He never batted an eye.  He just helped us move his things to the basement and has been living there ever since.  We kindly refer to the basement as their apartment as it has been completely taken over.  I've been down there twice to clean the bathroom.  That's it. 

Just kidding-

He and his brother actually do a nice job cleaning it up every week.  They run the vacuum and pick up all the bottles from the floor.  Sidenote:  I will NEVER EVER UNDERSTAND why water bottles are thrown on the floor and not in the trash can.  It is literally RIGHT THERE.  Why?  Moving on...

Our sweet Middle found out that same week that he would no longer be attending school to complete his senior year.  Not only that but his senior baseball season and the last year his Dad would coach him was no more.  

He took it all in stride as well.  The freedom of not having to go to school was a bit overwhelming.  They still had to complete assignments, but they didn't have to "go" to school.  Their hours quickly shifted to summer (or what I like to refer to as NEWBORN BABY hours) and they were up all hours of the night.  To eat.  And then they slept in the day.  They both started summer jobs and they figured out how to do both.  I still have not adjusted to their sleep schedule.  Bless.  

To say we needed an adjustment period would be a complete understatement.  

In my adult years, I have developed a little bit of anxiety.  I worry about all the things.  

This is so crazy because I can't remember much of anything so the fact that I remember to worry completely baffles me.  I am a worst-case-scenario kind of worrier too.  If you don't answer my call, you are either mad at me because of something I said or did or you are dead.  There is no in-between.  

Mad or dead.  That's it.  

When it comes to my kids, they are either doing the worst thing I can possibly imagine or dead.  I have been noticing a lot of stress and anxiousness on my end of things and the boys just go along like life is the best it has ever been.  I should be happy to have my family all here together because I know, and I FEAR, that it will come to a close very soon.  Instead, I'm worrying and stressed out all of the time.  

Recently, the two big kids met me in the garage to chat with me about my recent obsession with their worst-case scenario lives.  First of all, they addressed the fact that my tracking them had to stop.  They are right.  I love being able to see on that little map that they are somewhere.  HOWEVER...that little map doesn't give me peace.  It simply gives me a reason to come up with a worst-case-scenario situation.  If they aren't where I think they should be, I've completely imagined the worst.  This is upsetting because then I'm mad at them for what I am imagining. I come at them as soon as I can get them to answer their phone for proof of life or when I get them face to face.  This causes us to fight and proves to them that I am not letting go, but tightening my grip. 

Parenting big kids is hard.  For the boys' entire lives, I've been trying to prevent their demise.  They were so careless and reckless when they were little.  Jumping off everything.  Climbing everything.  Running, punching, shooting, ramming, etc.  No one warned me when we saw their gender on the sonogram that I would spend the rest of my life with that awful feeling in my stomach because they don't care about their lives or well being as much as I do.  

BLESS ALL THE THINGS. 

And then...I look at who they are, how far they've come, what they have to offer the world, and how they are with each other.  I am reminded that we have also spent the last 20+ years teaching them love, kindness, acceptance, forgiveness, work ethic, faith, etc.  

It is so hard to see that they are more than their mistakes.  It is very difficult to see past their schedules, lifestyles, and blatant disregard for my anxiety.  But when I look HARD at who they are...I see something amazing.  I see these two really cool humans who (for the most part) treat others with kindness and respect.  I see boys who have grown into men and who are still growing.  I see young men who need less of my hovering and more of my quiet support from the stands.  I want to be the loudest mom yelling all the things, but that time is through.  

I have learned as much from these two as they have learned from me.  I was a mom at the age of 21.  I became legal to drink and started taking care of a human that I loved more than myself in the same year.  Two years later, we added another human.  

Now, they are men.  I'm trying to find my place in their lives and it is the hardest thing I've done as a mom yet.  

Thank goodness I still have "The Third Child" to love on and smother until he's grown.  

In about a month, both of these young men will be moving out.  I'll cry my stupid eyes out until I can't see anymore.  I'll eat all the cookie dough and probably write another blog.  But-I will also watch them go with a new respect for who they are and who they've taught me to be.  

MOTHERHOOD.  Dang it and Bless it at the same time.  

Referee of 3

Lemons

I am not exactly sure when I decided that I liked lemons, but I do.  I like lemons.  I started using them to decorate last summer, but before that, I liked them because they were yellow.  I like lemons in my water.  I LOVE my Granny's Lemon Meringue Pie.  I enjoy lemonade and think lemon cake might be the best thing on the planet.  

I like lemons.  

I decided to look up quotes for my letter board the other day when I was redecorating my kitchen.  I had "The Third Child" helping me so this was not an easy task.  I asked him to look up sayings about lemons and the first one to pop up was the old saying...

"When life hands you lemons, make lemonade."

Nope.  Too Cliche.  "What else can you find?", I asked.

The next one he found said, "When life hands you lemons, make a lemon cake."

I loved that one but wanted it to be a real conversation starter.  No one really wants to talk about my love for cake except me.  

Up next was one that stuck with me.  It said..."When life hands you lemons, you don't have to make lemonade."  

I said it over and over again until I actually really liked it.  I realize upon first glance, it rings with a negative tone.  I don't mean for that to be the case at all.  I really do try to have a positive outlook on life.  I don't always succeed, but I do try.  This wasn't meant to be a "hater" message for those who love to make bad things turn into good either.  I am a big fan of making the most of a tough situation.  However...we have tried to teach our kids something very important in this house and I felt like this quote really solidified that idea.

When life hands you lemons...which...it most certainly will, you can make lemonade.  You can and should make the best of a bad situation.  

But you don't have to rush this.  

You can actually just feel the suckiness of the lemons sometimes.  When we have bad situations that arise in our good lives, we tend to want to make them immediately go away.  When others have these moments, days, weeks, months, years....we want to help them "fix" the problem.  We feel that it is our job as humans, family, and friends, to find a solution for the lemony problems of our people.  

But...

What if...for just a minute, those in a bad situation just want us to sit with them and hold the lemons?  What if they don't want a solution?  What if they don't want to add sugar and water and make wonderful lemonade?  What if the timing isn't right?  What if lemonade isn't the answer...yet?  

Lemonade and all of its sweet, wonderful goodness is great.  

In its time.  

When we met the trial of our lives as a family, we didn't' want to make lemonade.  We wanted to be mad and sad and feel all the things.  We have feelings so we can FEEL.  When we immediately add sugar and water to the lemons, we forget to feel.  

Cancer sucks.  Divorce sucks.  Losing a job sucks.  Losing a pet sucks.  Losing a friend sucks.  Being betrayed sucks.  Learning the hard way sucks.  Parenting sucks at times.  Marriages suck at times.  Family dynamics suck at times.  Friends let you down at times and THAT SUCKS.  

But what is worse, is not being allowed to feel what is yours to feel.  To process through moments of grief, anger, hurt, sadness, etc.  Those are the lemons.  And we don't want to live in the moments of lemons.  But we also don't need to rush ourselves or others into making them disappear or turn them into something they aren't.  

Did anyone tell Jesus to make lemonade when he was on the cross?  Because that is about the biggest lemon I've ever seen.  No.  But he sure did make something amazing out of those lemons when all was said and done.  

Here's a thought.  When you are in a lemony situation...allow yourself to feel the feelings you have.  Hold the lemons and just let yourself process whatever emotion you are feeling.  When the time is right, make whatever out of that situation you please.  Don't make lemonade because someone told you to.  Make lemonade because you are ready.  

Just don't forget to feel.  

In regards to others and lemony times...

When life hands them lemons...instead of suggesting a better attitude, ask if you can hold the lemons for a while.  When the time is right, they just might let you add the sugar.  

Carry on~

Referee of Three

Your Genuine Self

It has been a minute since I sat down to write on my blog.  Let me explain through teenage language what I have learned about this term.  There are three "minutes" when expressing how long it has been since you did something, saw someone, etc.  There is the minute...which is a very short amount of time.  A week, perhaps two.  Then there is the "hot minute".  This expresses that it has been a longer period of time since you have done said thing.  Like maybe a month or so.  Finally, there is the "fat minute".  The "fat minute" means it has been longer than a year.  Ish.  I think.  I don't even really know.  

I often get schooled on my lingo by my children.  This is when they are not eating, sleeping, working, or telling me how much easier of a parent I am on Little.  Also-for as long as I have written on this blog, I've referred to my children as Big, Middle, and Little.  However, Little has a bit of a complex from being referred to as "small" for so many years.  So, we will be addressing him as "the third child" from now on.  Bless all the things.  

Anyway-

It has been a fat minute since I've written on my blog and let me tell you-the words are flying out of my brain.  I recently finished Jen Hatmaker's most recent book "Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire".  Get this.  Put on your mask.  Go get in your car, drive to Target, and buy this book.  If you aren't quite ready to go in, you can order it through drive-up or online.  You do you.  Just get the book.  IF you are a woman who likes to learn, laugh, and connect with other people who live like you...do this for you.  I downloaded this amazing book on audible and listened to it on many walks around our town.  Jen Hatmaker herself is the narrator and hearing her tell her own story is AMAZING.  She also adds many little things for what she refers to as "the listener".  It is so stupid good and I will listen to it time and time again.  

I love to read and post what I've read to my Instagram page "Mrs. Nelson Reads".  I want my students to see that I enjoy reading and hope that I can cultivate a love for reading in their lives and in the lives of those who are intrigued by living outside of their lives.  People love to live in the stories of others, both fiction and nonfiction.  Reading is a great escape from real life.  Sometimes...real life is hard.  We know this to be true in more ways than one.  

The quote I posted on my Instagram page from the book is below:

~The only relief is being genuine at all times with all people, and if you think that is also hard, you are correct, ma'am.  But at least it is honest.  At least it is whole and true.  At least you don't have to adjust the station according to the passengers.~ Jen Hatmaker, Fierce, Free, and Full of Fire: The Guide to Being Glorious You

As women, we tend to try to fit the mold of something we are not in an attempt to "fit in" with others.  I have spent a great majority of my life trying to be what I thought others would want me to be.  This is very normal.  I think more often than not, when we meet new people, we size them up to see who they are and try to be the kind of people they like.  Do you do this?  Is this just me?  We observe how they talk, how they dress, what makes them laugh, how they carry themselves in a room full of people.  Then we try to be someone that does those things so they think we are "their people".  So many times, we try to be something else and we forget who we genuinely are.  

Then...we have to figure out who we are.  When we strip down all the fake, what is left?  When we aren't trying to be what we think others want us to be, who are we?  We give FAR TOO MUCH CREDIT to how others see us.  Sometimes, I think people are upset with me for words or actions.  In my mind, I build up how they are sitting around thinking and talking about what I said or did.  What I posted or wore.  When the truth is...

THEY AREN'T.

People don't have time to sit around and think about us that much.  They are busy dealing with their own world!  We give others too much credit for judging us when truly, we are the ones judging ourselves.  It is easier to blame others when we see fault in ourselves.  We don't want to judge ourselves so we put it on others and then feel resentment toward them instead of putting energy into making changes within ourselves.  

STOP IT RIGHT NOW.  

Take control of your mind.  Take BACK control of how you see yourself.  If we are our genuine selves when we are around ALL people, we are in control.  We have to own all that we think, say, and do.  But if you are being genuine, it comes from a good place and that can be seen.  

ALSO-be kind to yourself.  In this book, Jen (I refer to her by her first name because if we knew each other, we would be friends-I just know it-so it is okay) talks about referring to her body as "she or her" instead of it. This concept is actually from a book called Mothers, Daughters, and Body Image: Learning to Love Ourselves As We Are, by Hillary L. McBride.  This book is next on my list.  When I thought about this concept as a whole, it was much easier to think about my body as an amazing "she".  A "she" that carried Big, Middle, and The Third Child (bless) and delivered them.  The "she" that tried to run a 5k once and that was all.  The "she" that hugs INTENSELY and holds on when someone needs a person around them.  Someone to listen.  To sit in the trenches.  To just "be".  The "she" that LOVES ice cream and cookie dough and cream in her coffee.  The "she" that also loves to dance and read and walk her dog.  My body in the idea of a "she" makes me think differently about her.  Like she is part of the whole that makes me genuinely me.  Again, this concept is not mine.  It is not my friend Jen's.  It was written about in the book above and I think it is PURE GENIUS.  

Love the "she" that you are.  We can all stand to make improvements for the right reasons, but love who your body is at this very moment and all she has done for you.  She is part of the very genuine you.  

I'm so moved by the concepts and the love that I read in these pages and just think it is time to share it with the world.  Being genuine and nice to yourself is not an easy task.  But think how at peace you will be when you are doing these things.  You- being who you really are for all to see.  And you- LOVING THAT PERSON WITH ALL THAT YOU ARE.  

Let's do it.  

Okay? 

Great.  It is settled.  

Happy Tuesday!    

More Than Just A Game

Baseball.

America's Favorite Past Time.  

Unless you are me.  And then it would be something like...

Target and coffee.  

Sorry Babe, but I'm just being honest.  

Baseball was new to me when I married Steve.  I mean, it isn't like I hadn't heard of it or didn't watch it when I was in High School.  I even remember watching "dreamy Steve Nelson" play ball when I was a Freshman.  He was so cute out there on...second base?  Maybe?  Yeah.  I liked his pants and his freckles, but he was way out of my league.  Pun intended.    

Anyway, baseball.  

When I was pregnant with Brett, someone bought this precious baby child a baseball glove for a gift.  Naturally, they assumed our children would be sports minded individuals instead of music and shopping loving fools like their mother.  

Whoever it was, they were right.  

From the moment our children could walk, they were swinging a bat.  And I feel like we've been watching games ever since.  

20 years of summer baseball...give or take a few.  Steve coached other people's kids long before he got ahold of ours so...it's been a bit. 

I've learned more about the game of baseball than any other sport I watch because it moves at a pace that my brain can process.  Some people say it is too slow.  I personally love the pace of a baseball game because I can sit and relax while keeping up when I'm not chatting with other moms or filing my nails.  

These things are important too you know.

Anyway, today is a pretty big day in the house of the Nelsons.  Mr. Nelson took over the head coaching position and our team has been labeled a "Cinderella Team" going to state.  Apparently, when looking at records and such, some people don't believe we should be here.  I don't get into that sort of business when looking at where we are.  Mostly because I live life one day at a time.  And, I'd argue to say if we aren't supposed to be here, then how are we here?  I'm a simple-minded individual that doesn't look too hard into the mouth of a golden opportunity.  I'm just so proud of the boys for doing what they had to do, at the time when it was right to do it, to get to this point.  

This point, by the way, we've been waiting on since LAST THURSDAY when the flood gates opened from the heavens.  We've been rain delayed for days now and today is (HOPEFULLY) the day when we get to play these games!  

No matter what happens in the games today, the boys and coaches should be proud.  I know the parents are proud of their accomplishments in getting to this stage in the game.  Every player on the team played a part in getting them to this moment in time.  Every coach gave input that put us where we are.  In an attempt to continue with my mindset, I suggest they take it inning by inning.  One game at a time.  Knowing all the while that they did what they needed to do to get to the end of their season, no matter when that may be.  

To us, it is more than just a couple of games to win state.  For us, it's a lifetime of bat swinging, base running, catch playing, white baseball pants scrubbing, Twizzler eating moments with our boys.  

We're from Mulvane and this Momma...couldn't be prouder.

Go CATS!  (and if it's not too much trouble, WIN STATE!)

Referee of 3

Waiting in the Car

I've mastered the art of "waiting in the car".  Since I married Steve, we've made countless trips to this very spot.  In fact, the night I fell in love with Steve, he was heading out to the cemetery to spend time with his Dad on Christmas Eve.  The thought moved me from my very selfish and immature place in life to a place where I could see how much this man had been through and how much I loved someone other than myself.

Like I said, we've been here many times.  It was always important to his Mom to come and add new flowers and spend time with the ones she'd lost.  My parents and grandparents have also always impressed upon us the importance of going to the cemetery and honoring those who've gone before us.  In the times when I went with Steve and his family, I would stand back quietly.  I am and always have been a very empathetic person, so I usually stood very sad with tears for the ones I loved who were hurting, missing their husband and father.  Eventually, to give them their time, I'd "go wait in the car".  It always felt like the right thing to do.

As our lives changed, we'd take two little boys with us to the headstone to put out flowers and be there for Steve.  That was always a bit challenging, but we made it work.  They'd sit on the stone gate that is near the headstone and we'd play while Steve had his time.  As our third one came along, the others were old enough to recognize why we were there and they'd keep him entertained while the adults stood and remembered their past lives. With tears in their eyes and a nod from Steve, I'd take the boys to "wait in the car" while they had their time.

Two years ago, the place where we'd visit a Grandpa they'd never met, suddenly became the place where we go to see our beloved Nana.  The woman who played a very important role in all of our lives, the one we'd stand beside in our times visiting the cemetery, was now the one we were coming to talk to and talk about.  It doesn't make any sense...still.  Yet here we are.

Today, as we passed the cemetery taking Brady's friend home from camp, he asked if we could stop and see Nana.  I suddenly found myself standing beside him and I realized that he was ready for his time.  I said to him what I've said to the others all these years..."I'll go wait in the car."

And I did.

I sat there as I've done before, praying for the hands of Jesus to wrap around the heart of my not so little boy missing a pretty special lady in his life.  Gone too soon and too quickly for any of us to even comprehend

On the way home, I asked him something I've never asked anyone else before.  I asked what he said to her.  Without revealing too much, he simply said he told her that he loved her, he missed her, and he hopes to live a life like her so that he can be with her someday.

My heart.

Such a simple concept from such a sweetheart.

We should all hope to want for something so simple, but so amazing.

She had a heart like Jesus.  She loved her Lord.  May we love those we've lost, live like Jesus, and be with them again.

Wise words my sweet Little.

Have a blessed day!
Referee of 3