Daddies Are Important

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I saw a picture on Facebook today of my niece and her daddy. They both were absolutely beaming. She had a look on her face that said, “This is my hero!” and he had one of immeasurable pride. The only thing I could think was that it would take one heck of a guy to steal that little girl’s heart because her daddy is such an amazing example of what a man should be. He has shown her a depth of love that only a good man who loves her completely could ever hope to match.DaddiesAreImportant

Know What’s in Your Own Head

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Reconnecting with My ThoughtsI’m going to make a sweeping statement here. Ready for it? American society has become so overloaded with information, and its constant need to access that information, that it has actually dumbed down. According to Nielson, the average US home receives around 119 t.v. channels. That’s just the average; there are hundreds available. Turn on the radio, and the FCC says there are over 13,000 broadcast radio stations in the US. Tune into satellite radio, and you’ve got almost 1,000 more at your disposal. Want instant information on exactly what you’re looking for? Just Google it. Or maybe Bing it. Or Dogpile it. Use whatever search engine you like best, there are plenty of them in a myriad of languages just waiting to take you to literally countless webpages, blogs, and wikis that are filled with information, misinformation, facts, myths, opinions, misprints, and outright lies. We bombard ourselves with all of this information on a continual basis and yet, there is a serious lack of discernment over what is true and what is poo.

We can’t seem to leave it alone either. Look around the waiting room – most people are on their phones. Look around Starbucks, Panera, McDonald’s, or whatever restaurant you happen to be in – more phones. On the bus? Phones. In the park? Phones. As soon as that little ding sounds off on an airplane? Phones and other electronic devices. I know I’ve read many people lamenting the loss of conversation and connection with others around us, but what about the connection with ourselves and our thoughts? I’m afraid that we are losing the ability to contemplate, ruminate and even create by being continually connected and forever obsessed with constant information. We need time to mull things over and find out what’s really running around the most amazing machine ever to grace the earth – our own minds. So, I’ve come up with a list (because who doesn’t like a useful list?) of ways to reconnect with our own thoughts.

1. Take a Walk

Ok, so lot of us take walks, but let’s do this a little differently. No ear buds, no iPods, and if you bring your phone for safety, put it in your pocket and leave it there. Look around, work on your posture, think about your day, greet the world face forward. No, I mean it. Actually greet the other people you pass – say hi! Do this regularly, and don’t be surprised if a friendly face you meet along the way becomes an actual friend.

2. Read a Book

I don’t mean an e-book either. Don’t get me wrong, I love my Kindle as much as the next reader, but there is just something about the printed word. So, go buy an actual book (at an actual bookstore, if you can) or a library and experience the feel of the paper, the scent of the ink, and the sound of the turning pages as you lose yourself in the story. Do yourself one better: join a book club and go talk about your experience, discuss your thoughts.

3. Share a Book

Do you own that paperback you just finished? Great. Add a sticky note to the cover that reads, “I’m free and single. Take me home!” and leave it somewhere in public. How does that connect you with your thoughts? You’ll think about that book and wonder who picked it up and what it meant to them. You might even create a whole story in your head about it. Hey! Write that story down! And then the next time you are talking to one of your smart, literary type friends, you can tell them all about how meta your experience was and how cathartic it was to think about meaning in that way. They will be duly impressed.

4. Write

Journal about your day. Write a poem. Write some questions down that have been bugging you. Did someone’s opinion tick you off on Facebook? Instead of spouting off on social media, write down what you thought about it and why. Read it over, think about it and really decide what you think. It doesn’t matter what you decide to write; just take actual pen to actual paper and let those thoughts flow.

5. Write a letter

Don’t type it. We’re not talking about e-mail or text. Sit down and write an actual letter that you intend to send in the mail. Is a whole letter a bit scary? Ok, start smaller. Buy a pack of notecards (you can even find them in the dollar rack) and commit to writing a quick note and sending it to someone once a week until the pack is gone. Trust me, the people you send those notes to will be thrilled to get something other than a bill in the mail.

6. Wait in a Waiting Room

Resist the urge to pull out that smart phone in the waiting room. Instead, before your appointment, buy one of those word search, crossword, or soduku books off of the supermarket rack and work some puzzles out with paper and pencil instead of pixels and a touchscreen. Or, grab a magazine off the waiting room rack that you would normally never buy and read about something new. Or, and this is epic, just wait and let your thoughts flow freely in your head.

7. Enjoy a Hot Cup of Joe

Grab that skinny mochachino with an extra shot and just sit and watch the world go buy. Brew your favorite cup of tea and sit on your porch. Take your hot chocolate to the park and look around. Indulge in a slow sipping session of people watching and contemplating.

8. Spend Time in Prayer

It’s amazing how much we get to know ourselves through prayer, but it makes a lot of sense. We pray for what’s important to us. However, you have to go beyond simply asking for help and have a full conversation with God in which you really tell Him all about it. It can take practice, but it’s worth it. If prayer isn’t your thing, learn how to meditate. It will plunge you deeply into your thoughts.

9. Read a Printed Newspaper

Go buy your local newspaper, pull out the local news section and read it front to back. Find out what is happening in the area closest to you. And don’t leave out the obituaries either. Read those memorials and find out what made all those ordinary people extraordinary to those who will miss them so much. Think about what you want yours to say.

Yep, thinking about what you want your obituary to say seems a bit cliché, I will agree. However, there really is something to that line of thinking. We are only here for a short bit. No matter how many years we have, it will never seem long enough. Our connection with other people is our legacy, but if we don’t know ourselves and our own thoughts, how can we ever really connect to other people?

Commodities

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Lately, my writing has consisted of poetry, children’s stories, and a whole lot of school work. But now I have graduated, and that opens up time for something else. I have three works of long prose, possibly novels, that I have outlined and would like to write. I’m really not sure which I would like to try to tackle first or which I am ready to tackle first. So, I decided to exercise my adult fiction muscle by working on some short stories and seeing how that goes. This is my first (very) short story and I think it went pretty well. By the time I was finished, I felt like I really knew the woman in the story. She has a lot of heavy stuff on her mind, but she doesn’t say much. Take a look at what is provoking her and tell me what you think.

Commodities

“Do you mind setting the table?” she asked.

“Actually, I do,” came his curt reply. She said nothing, just kept making dinner. “Paper plates or regular?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter. Paper is fine. We’re having fried chicken, so paper will work,” she replied. He grabbed the plates and began to set the table, somehow managing to bang paper plates as they were tossed into place. Silverware clanged onto hastily thrown napkins. He came back into the kitchen for God-knows-what as she kept making dinner. Her thin voice calmly inquired, “Were you serious about minding setting the table?”

“Well, yeah, kind of, I guess. I’ve been working all day. I’m the only one in this house who has been.” She verbally ignored the jab, but mentally felt the sting of the pointed, sharp smack. The other people in the house were three children of varying ages.

She had worked through the first two, but by the third child, she wanted to stay home for a while. She was tired of shipping them off to daycare, tired of missing so many firsts, but mostly just tired of the routine. Everyday, she walked in the door after work, took off her coat and purse, situated the children, and immediately started making dinner. Somehow, “fair” meant that she made dinner every night and traded off nights cleaning up after. He never thought about how tired she must be getting up everyday, getting the children ready everyday, dropping them off at school everyday, working all day, picking up the children everyday, making dinner everyday, and pausing only after dinner was done and the dishes were washed every other day. The pause was short. There was homework, baths, tomorrow’s lunches, laundry and whatever else couldn’t wait until the weekend. And, oh what a weekend! There was soccer, baseball, birthday parties, the mini workday repeat known as “getting the children out the door for church,” breakfasts, lunches and dinners to make, as well as all that housework that waited until the weekend.

He never thought about it because he never had to. No one ever walked into a messy house and thought, “Man, that husband is such a terrible housekeeper!” Ever. In fact, he got lots of praise from everyone, including himself, for helping so much more than other guys. From what she heard from her girlfriends, it was true, he did. But why, she wondered, why is he “helping?” Why isn’t he just doing like I am? I work just as many hours as he does. Why is all this my responsibility and he is just helping?

The memories flooded her brain, but her hands just kept steadily working, preparing dinner. She slowly said, “Well, you ask me everyday if there is anything you can do to help me get dinner ready and I never say yes. I only asked for help this one time. I never ask for help.”

Her gaze stayed steadfastly on the stove, but she watched him from the corner of her eye as he wound up like a frantic toy. His arms went up in the air and his voice became defensive and harsh. “Do you go to work and help me? No. I am the only one in this house who goes to work all day. Nobody helps me with my job!”

“Forget it. The kids are in the living room. I don’t want to fight. Can we not do this now?” He honored her request not to fight by leaving the room.

She had always wanted to stay at home with the kids. They had fought about it, negotiated, discussed, fought some more, and he finally agreed to let her stay home until the baby started school. She asked for this, and now she couldn’t wait to get back to work. It was funny, being a wife and mom was supposed to be the most noble job in the world, and for some, she supposed it was. But in order to get her self-respect back, she had to find someone who would hire her to be bossed around so she could get paid for it. Respect had to be bought; she always thought it was something you were given a basic amount of for existing and then you built on it and raised it when you earned it. Apparently, she was wrong. It was just a commodity like everything else.

She finished the dinner and called the kids to the table. As the family joined hands and said grace, her lips spilled out, “Bless us, oh Lord…,” but out of her heart repeated Jenny’s prayer over and over again.

Oh God, please let her fly.

 

Breaking Mother’s Day Tradition

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For Mother’s Day this year, I’m going to do something almost sacrilegious and dedicate it to my husband. You see, without my husband, there is no way I could be the kind of mother I wanted to be. For the past five years, I have had the privilege of being a stay-at-home mom. I know the value of this. When I had my first child with my ex, church mice looked rich compared to us. I didn’t even get to stay home the entire standard six weeks. By the end of the fourth week, despite my lingering nausea, despite all of the complications I had from a difficult birth, I was back at work. Even though I loved my job, even though my mother was my babysitter, and even though I worked close enough to visit during every lunch break, leaving my one-month-old baby to the care of someone else nearly killed me.

This is not me jumping into the working mom vs stay-at-home fracas. I’ve done both, and anyone who thinks it’s easier either way is being rather indulgent in the throwing of their own personal “I have it hardest” pity party. Being a parent is hard work full of difficult decisions and self doubt no matter how you approach it. This is not me saying moms should work or moms should stay home. That’s a family decision. Your family is going to make different decisions than mine. That’s okay. No, that’s more than okay. That’s fantastic. I can only decide what is best for my family, and even then, I’m not always sure. I really don’t want the responsibility of making your decisions for you. Nope, this is me telling you what I wanted and what I wanted was to stay home with my child. There was just no way that was going to happen.

Sometimes life gives you a mulligan. As I’ve shared before, my first marriage did not work out well and I was blessed with a second chance at love. Everything was made new, including my approach to motherhood. This time, I got to stay home. I got to be the one to care for my child and witness every first. I got to be there when my eldest got home from school and never had to ask a soul if I could take time off for his orthodontist appointments. I went on field trips and playdates. And, last week, I graduated with a master’s degree in English Education. None of this would have been possible if I had been working. And, none of this would have been made possible if it weren’t for the hard work of my husband. He carried the financial burden of being the sole provider for our family. He paid for my graduate school with his GI Bill, earned through years of service and deployments.

And now, this fall, my youngest will go to kindergarden and I will go back to work. I’m sad that this time is done, but I am also excited that it is time for him to start school and for me to put all my schooling to good use. I feel so blessed to have had this season of my life and I will treasure it always. This is the mom I always wanted to be and it happened because someone loved me enough to make it possible. So, I find it quite fitting to dedicate this Mother’s Day to my husband and thank him with all of my happy heart!

 

Effort

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I wrote this for someone I know who is having a pretty rough time of it right now.

Effort

We’ll work on it
you finally say
but what are we
working towards
If I don’t know
you’re gonna stay
and be the strength
that shields our home

How can I ever
measure up
Where are the markings
on the stick
that show when I’m
deemed good enough
or when you’re finally
through with this

Love revels in the
happy times
Love stays when
it gets hard
Love is not a
simple feeling
It’s an effort of
the heart

I don’t want your
temporary
You’re we’ll try to
make it through
I want your
forever
I want all
of you

So stay with me
through better
We’ll work through
all the worst
We’ll remember all
the love that’s shared
And forget all
of the hurts

Love revels in the
happy times
Love stays when
it gets hard
Love is not a
simple feeling
It’s an effort of
the heart

I’ll revel in the
easy times
I’ll stay when it
gets hard
I offer you
my everything
The efforts of
my heart

© April Sopczak 2014