Natalie Whatley

I feel somewhat responsible for keeping you all up to date on current obscure events. If today’s installment doesn’t enlighten you intellectually, I’ll consider it mission accomplished as it will be in keeping with what February 27 was set aside for.

Today is No Brainer Day. You probably weren’t aware because documenting it wouldn’t have fit the spirit of the “holidate” as founded by “America’s Premier Eventologist”, Adrienne Sioux Koopersmith.  Koopersmith wears many professional hats, but I had to look up eventologist – never heard of the profession, but it’s someone who makes up altruistic, educational, recreational, or just plain fun events. Sounds like interesting work.

By definition, a “no brainer” is a task that is simple, obvious and/or totally logical. Is it just me, or we could use several of these strategically placed throughout the calendar? Then again, I revel in over analyzing stuff and would become suspicious of being asked to shut my brain off too frequently. I probably wouldn’t cooperate more than once a year, or better yet, I’d secretly declare my own brainless days. I’ve had moments where I was clearly not using the old noggin. This should give me a valid excuse for faulty decision making.

I’ve mentioned a time (or maybe two) that all the over-commercialized holidays aren’t for me. Not that I don’t appreciate the meaning behind them, but I could live without the stress associated with what’s considered “proper” celebrating.  

No Brainer Day requires no decorating, no cooking, no spending sums of money greater than the entire economy of a small country and lastly no supporting a massive greeting card industry. I’m a tiny bit peeved I didn’t think up this special day myself. And for the record, I have no beef with greeting cards, but I’ll buy them when I feel like it and not because sappy commercials tell me I should.   

The premise behind it all is that we should spend today doing simple things that require little or no mental effort. So, write this down and stick it to your bathroom mirror: “Turn brain back on”.

Now, go ahead and shut down the frontal lobes – command central for self-control, planning, reasoning, abstract thought – and the neocortex which is the center of high-order thinking, learning, and memory. Because you’ll likely want to live through this brainless day, leave the brain stem (controls breathing, heart rate and other processes we don’t even realize are being handled) and the cerebellum (responsible for balance, posture and coordination of movement) in the “on” position. Enjoy your day minus the brainwashing life has bestowed.

As you awake refreshed tomorrow morning, mind free from years of clutter, don’t forget to read the instructions you left yourself on the bathroom mirror. Oh no. You can’t read or remember how to get to the bathroom. What have I done? This may be my biggest cranial misfire ever. Happy No Brainer Day!

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

I sort of pride myself on being a repository of useless knowledge. It’s an occupational hazard and probably a danger to what few good brain cells I have left, but given writing’s many other maladies, I’ll take it. Am I living on the edge, or what? 

Unless you’re a podiatrist or in shoe sales, I bet you had no idea that today, January 23, is Measure Your Feet Day. No, I’m not pulling your leg.

Most of us have probably gone through life post-childhood – barring foot problems – without measuring the foundation upon which we stand. I take my feet for granted – file them under “if it’s not broke don’t fix it” – but upon further review, a couple of minutes spent gathering dimensions could be a positive experience. I need all of those I can get.

There are various methods and correlating opinions on what works best given your motivation (shoe shopping or just for grins) for measuring. The Brannock device (that funny looking silver and black thing you see in shoe stores) seems to be the most standard, effective way. If you don’t have one handy, tracing your foot while you stand on paper and measuring from there is also acceptable. Because I never give the size of my feet a thought unless I’m on a quest for footwear, I’ll probably stick to my tried-and-true method of sticking my foot in a shoe. If it’s too big, locate a size smaller and vice versa.

Equipped with pencil and paper, I decided to pay a few minutes homage to my feet and the lesser-known “holiday” mentioned above.  While bent over and close enough for a thorough inspection I became dizzy as blood rushed to my head. Just shy of a hallucinatory state I had a revelation: I was wasting precious time measuring the wrong feet! And you thought the creative process worked in some other mysterious way, didn’t you?

I’m learning with far too great of frequency that life throws curve balls, which disrupt a batter’s timing. The good news: If hit well, that curve ball has the potential of gaining tremendous backspin giving it added distance.  I’d like to think I have it in me to hit it out of the park, but given the speed these things are coming at me I’ve realized my mental foundation needs some bolstering. It’s high time to yank the yardstick away from the list of defeats and measure my feats.

Taking stock of the instances in life that required remarkable skill or valor seems an excellent source of “I’ve done it before, I can do it again” strength.  Each year, it can only get better as I add new feats and see tangible progress and my footing in life expanded.

I hope you’ll join me in participating in this little twist on an otherwise obscure day of observance. Make that list and delight in adding to it each year. Don’t ever take your feats for granted. They’ll carry you wherever you want to go. I’m going to take extra special care of mine—might even treat them to a pedicure.

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

I recently read A.J. Jacobs’ The Guinea Pig Diaries: My Life as an Experiment, where A.J. makes himself a human guinea pig in “radical lifestyle experiments”. I think he’s on to something. I’m intrigued to the point of wanting to conduct a few experiments of my own.

The title and author, whose other books I’m currently reading, came to my attention during the last Starbooks at Starbucks presentation by Sterling Municipal Library’s Jamie Eustace. Check the library for availability of the book and future Starbooks dates.

A.J.’s intentional shenanigans include posing as a beautiful single woman (he’s a married man) on an online dating service (that should serve as a warning) and following the teachings of the Radical Honesty Movement’s guru, Dr. Brad Blanton.  He lives through each of these little slices of life—among others—for a month and gives hysterically poignant accounts of his findings.  If you enjoy the nonfiction/humor genre – one of my personal favorites as it provides the best medicine, laughter – I highly recommend it.

It was fitting that The Guinea Pig Diaries and the idea of experimenting with life came to me as 2009 drew to a close. I was in a period of intense introspection and was already thinking of trying on a few radical changes. Why not? There are plenty of days when I get the feeling I’m a lab rat – the subject of scientific study on the pliability of the human soul. Any loud “SNAP!” you hear coming from my direction, will be indicative of my personal study’s conclusion if not my demise. Rest assured science will go on as specimens living with teens are in plentiful supply.

For longer than I care to admit, I’ve been scurrying around the bottom of a beaker. (No trying to bust a glass ceiling here – just glass walls, mostly of my own construction.) Some days I felt the Bunsen burner was on its highest setting; I reached melting point and came close to boiling before the gas supply was exhausted. I won’t be refueling that particular device, but must find another source of heat or risk having the contents of my beaker reach freezing point. Science is complicated.

In the spirit of the new year, I’ll be donning a white lab coat and goggles. Please join me with some of your own ventures and tell me all about them. We only get one ride through this thing we call life. Who knows what I’ll put myself and my family through, but it sounds fun.

For all the things that don’t prove to be too embarrassing, I’ll give an account of my findings here, lab-report style – complete with hypothesis, method (to my madness), supplies (this could get funny) and results.  Goodness, just expecting a little unexpected is exciting.

Since it may be impossible to remain objective and avoid skewing data in the roles of scientist and subject, I might ask for outside input from unbiased parties. You’ll know you appear a reliable soul if I walk up and ask you to participate.

Gosh this is going to be fun – sort of like going to the high-school-chemistry lab knowing the potential exists for a spectacular explosion. Happy New Year! It’s going to be a blast!

© 2010 Natalie Whatley

Pardon me while I sigh and fall into a chair. I’m going to rest a spell and let my mind and body digest Christmas 2009. Am I relieved it’s over? Maybe. Of course there’s still some clean-up and waiting in return lines, but being over 300 days away from the mass preparations for the next one is a good feeling.

I mentioned in previous columns that the holidays have become too over-the-top for me, and I probably led you to believe that I don’t care much for the season. That’s not the case at all. I do, however, get stressed-out over all that the holidays entail and in this year’s seasonally-induced delirium realized why. (Been digging deep, lately, as I’m sure has been evidenced by my writing. Rest assured my mental health is mostly intact.)

The truth is: I could use a little rationing of the holiday cheer. I’m force-fed large amounts – way beyond the point of feeling stuffed – in too short an amount of time. Why must such a high percentage of all the “good will toward man” be so concentrated and confined to a few weeks out of the year? Seems I require a steady diet of good tidings of comfort and joy and don’t do well with the extremes of feast or famine.

Sure, there are people all over doing nice things and speaking kind words year-round, but it’s not as noticeable outside the November-December realm. Don’t think I’ve ever been told to be “merry” in August. (Yes, I know, it’s a bit steamy here at that time and bad hair days abound, but wouldn’t some “Christmas cheer” make it more tolerable?)

And while I’m on the topic of more equally spreading Christmas, why do certain foods only make an appearance on the holiday menu? I figure if I more evenly distributed my fudge intake through all the months of the calendar, I could avoid tight jeans in January. On second thought, that may not work, and I would look a little strange wearing sweatpants in July. Cranberries on the other hand definitely deserve more space in our diet as they’re full of health-boosting stuff (phytonutrients). But I digress.

Back to the topic at hand, I’m certainly glad the shopping (despise it), wrapping (tolerate it for the sake of surprised faces), and having far too much on the calendar (I’m truly blessed) are over, but I’m not happy the spirit of the season is over. There will be nothing more said after perfunctory niceties as I go about my days, and it will likely be many months before I sit around a table and have actual face-to-face discussions with people whose company I enjoy.

Why don’t we all get together more often, sit and chat over what seems to be nothing but turns into everything – without a TV playing in the room? GASP! Regression back to the Stone Age? Can conversation start without the prompting of “news” regarding Joe Celebrity and Jane Starlet? It might start off a little awkward, but I have faith that some sparks could catch fire. (If you want a full blaze for New Year’s gatherings, bring up health-care reform and call the fire department.)

So, am I relieved it’s all over? Yes and no. Take away all the tangible trappings and wish me merriment when I’m in the throes of starvation and wearing sweatpants in July.

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

If you were reading my column this time last year you’ll probably realize that I cheated a bit this week. I’ve been mildly scolded in the past for saying there’s not a thing in the old noggin to write about, but sometimes, ‘tis true. Or, at the very least, some episodes playing in my mind don’t need to find their way to paper – you’d think I have a penchant for the melodramatic. How’s that for exaggerating emotion?

I hope you all enjoy it, again. I had fun writing it even though I shed a few tears. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

‘Twas the week of Christmas, and all through my mind, not a coherent thought was stirring, not even a rhyme. The lights were hung ‘round the house without harm, no body parts broken, or much cause for alarm. Christmas parties were held, social obligations fulfilled, and all I wanted was some quiet and still. The children wrote lists as long as North Main, while dollar signs floated ‘round their father’s brain.

And Papa with his headache, and I with my cat, were hoping one day it’d be possible to just take a nap. When from the upstairs there came a horrid smell. I looked up at the ceiling and started to yell. Away to grab Lysol, I ran a mad dash, began spraying the air wondering which kid to splash.

The light on the carpet outside the bathroom lit the offending parties — they’ll be needing a broom. When what to my frustrated eyes should appear three young people frolicking in good cheer. With an old dog in on the fun, I knew right that moment they’d better run! Faster than lightning the children they split, as they had no idea which gluteal target I’d get.

To a clean bathroom before the herd bathes, I pay homage to my silly rage. So down to the rooms I fly lickety-split, with a few thoughts in mind and envisioning a sit. In that moment, I felt in my heart, the tugging of strings from children so smart.

As I drew in a breath and dared turn around, up in years they went, almost without making a sound. Dressed in much bigger clothes, they’ll all be taller than me. I barely saw it happen. Could it truly be? Larger amounts of knowledge they now hold in their heads. Looks like they’re growing up; it’s full speed ahead.

Their eyes how they wonder, their smiles, how toothy. Their faces are changing, and at times they act goofy. Their mouths sometimes speak in ways that amaze.  And the kind things they do leave me in a proud haze.

With a tiny bit of childhood left, maybe they can handle my not always being deft. The years they’ve gone by faster than I ever imagined, like the blink of an eye, faster than I ever fathomed. It’s had its ups and downs — I always had doubts. And sometimes I cried after filling their day with shouts.

On the brink of tears, and with a new vision in sight, I’ve learned that giving my best would make things mostly right.  They love me anyway, in spite of mistakes. And I’ll see them through no matter what it takes.  Bowing my head, I pray they’ll be safe, while asking forgiveness for decisions made in haste.

Onward and upward, I hope we’ll proceed; it’s not easy being the one in the lead. But a quiet voice tells me as I turn in for the night, it will all be OK, for your path I will light.

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

All right, so I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately. Actually, and since I’m among friends, a “bit” doesn’t do my funk justice. I’ve spent some time standing near the edge of a black hole, mesmerized by the swirling vortex at the entrance to a place where not even light escapes. Just when I think I may succumb to the intense gravitational pull, the sounds of sleigh bells ringing during “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” (can you hear the song?) take me somewhere else. Whew!  

Since admitting a couple of weeks ago that the holiday season doesn’t exactly put a sparkle in my eye anymore – believe I even muttered a bah-humbug – I decided to take an Ebenezer Scrooge-inspired journey in the hopes of reigniting some personal Christmas spirit.

Christmas Way in the Past: Picture me with pig-tails, teeth missing, and running to a real tree covered with C9 lights burning hot enough to intensify the pine aroma. Life was good on Christmas mornings. The magic started with a very bright Super 8 camera light blinding me almost to the point of not being able to see that Santa brought most of what was on my wish list and few extras on top. And since I’m grown with my own family now, it is a mystery how my mother, the lovely Linda Rowe, managed to look fresh as a flower and fully made-up without so much as a strand of hair out of place while still in her pajamas. Mystery solved: She got out of bed looking that way . . . two hours before the rest of us.

Christmas Past: It was so easy, aside from the lack of sleep. Christmas-morning photos confirm that I looked as tired as I felt. Doesn’t every parent have at least one hold-out child who’s certain he heard Santa land on the rooftop compelling an immediate investigation? (That kid is also the first one out of bed the next morning.) Visions of Legos, remote-controlled cars, baby dolls, and young children rubbing wonder-filled eyes as they made their way down the stairs fill my mind. Life was simpler, wasn’t it?

Christmas Present: It has been said that today is a gift. I believe that, but lately I’m asking where I can return a few. If I can’t give them back entirely, can I at least make an exchange? Surely there’s something that fits a little better. In spite of my lackluster enthusiasm this year, the tree is decorated (but not the mantel), and I’m going through all the motions.  My current mantra: Fake it ‘til you make it! Case of the holiday blues? Nah! Probably my rebellious streak coming out to play. I’ll feel merry when I’m good and ready – not when the calendar dictates.

Christmas Yet to Come: This one gets a little tricky because (gasp!) I can alter it somewhat by my behavior during Christmas Present. That’s an eye-opener and a serious conundrum all rolled into one. If I continue along the path of being the ogre who expects grades, a respectful attitude and a certain level of cleanliness, Jeff and I could spend some holidays alone.  If I throw all expectations out the window and befriend those I was charged with raising, I’ll never have a moment of peace.

I returned from my excursion with Christmas spirit renewed. While the season sometimes seems too much on top of what already hangs from my limbs, time spent with family and friends is a welcomed diversion from that swirling vortex. It’s quite possible that this year I’ve been saved by the Christmas bell.

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Now that Thanksgiving is over, let the hustle and bustle begin! In recent years, retailers forced us into Christmas mode the day after Halloween; some sneaky ones started before that. I fell prey to such tactics and in years past gloated over having shopping completed by this point. I wish I could get back in that pattern because having that task out of the way cleared my mind and calendar for appointments with joyful and triumphant. For some, desiring the company of those two is, “no appointment necessary” – if only I could be so spontaneous.

Part of the problem: I’m just not that into the holidays any more. Sad, but true. It’s all become over-the-top and too much for my enjoys-peace-and-quiet, introverted self. Cindy Lou Who, of “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas”, summed it up quite nicely when she told her father, “It’s just that I look around at everyone getting all kerbobbled. Doesn’t this seem superfluous?” I’ll say it for you, “Bah humbug!” It’s just that I’d rather make a special day over something unimportant to the rest of the world than participate in mass festivities; I’m a bit of a rebel that way.

To get through the season with a socially acceptable level of style and grace, I employ a multitude of coping strategies. All the usual suspects are used: exercise (I’m convinced the mental health benefits far outweigh the physical), eating healthily, taking vitamins, getting adequate amounts of sleep, drinking plenty of water,  not overloading the calendar, beating my head against the wall while mumbling incoherently . . .

This year, I researched additional prospective tactics to add to the tool chest as I found myself stressed long before the holidays arrived. An article on the Mayo Clinic website suggests “being realistic and planning ahead”.  Shoot, there’s another problem: I’m steeping in realism, and “planning ahead” (laugh). I try, but with four other people, a dog, a cat, 2 hamsters, 3 automobiles, and a home, the monkey-wrench possibilities are endless. 

Another interesting pointer came to me via e-mail from Dr. Oz’s Real Age Newsletter and caused me to welcome a germ into my world with open arms. Supposedly, I can introduce the inner embryo of the wheat kernel to my oatmeal and it will make me feel less stressed.

Wheat germ contains the phytonutrient octacosanol, which is known to help increase physical endurance and improve the body’s ability to handle stress. From the virtues extolled, one could sprinkle this stuff on just about anything – even glazed, fried-in-lard donuts – and make it healthy. OK, not really. But seriously, sprinkling is for stress sissies; open the jar and dump it down the old gullet. (Maybe have a glass of water handy. I haven’t tried it yet, but it looks pretty dry. And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention wheat germ is very high in fiber. How to put this politely? Well, if the bathroom isn’t a place of refuge, don’t follow the whole-jar advice.)

 It will all be over before we know it, and it’s coming regardless of whether or not the house is decorated and the “perfect” gifts are under the tree.  And I will enjoy numerous things, but I can guarantee not one of them will come with tags, my peace and joy always comes without packages, boxes, and bags!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

There isn’t a day, week, or month left on the calendar that isn’t set aside to observe, commemorate, or otherwise notice a cause, individual, or group. Some are worthy of ignoring, such as National Grouch Day, but one commemorative week I was unaware of needs a little attention.

The second week of November, which will officially begin tomorrow, is Pursuit of Happiness Week. I know it sounds a little odd, but the purpose is to remind everyone, as stated in the Declaration of Independence, that all men and women “are endowed by their Creator with certain unalieanable rights, that among them are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” It would be unpatriotic not to recognize this one. You’ve got from November 8 – 14 to perform a search. Feel very fortunate if you don’t have to look long or far.

Happiness is defined in different ways depending on who’s providing the definition, but Webster’s says it is a state of mind or feeling characterized by contentment, love, satisfaction, or joy. And pursuit: Until I looked it up, I never realized an important piece that sets it aside from simply following something is the intent to catch.

Since I have been on a mission of sorts to find my place in the world while my children explore the things that bring them joy, it occurred to me that sometimes hunting for happiness involves not chasing after some things, or possibly bringing other things to an end. If capturing some empty space opens up a spot for something that makes me smile, why not?

Those in the business of studying happiness say much of our disposition in that regard is genetic and to a large degree formed during childhood. It’s also a lot of work. But the good news: Happiness is a choice. It’s tricky for sure, but we all know it’s possible as most of us are acquainted with someone who is happy despite some crummy circumstances.  Some say life is 10 percent events and 90 percent how we react to those events. I believe there’s a great deal of truth there.

Once we decide ourselves happy, we have a real proverbial bucket of cold water to deal with in a phenomenon known as hedonic adaptation. I know, big words for a Saturday, but you’ll thank me for explaining how it works. Knowing is half the battle. Maybe you can keep this from dampening any new-found joy.

Hedonic adaptation occurs because humans are very adaptable – some of us more than others— and as soon as something better than our “normal” becomes habit or a routine part of our day, it loses its shine so to speak. Think past lottery winners who manage to become miserable despite having money troubles wiped away.  And raise your hand if you’ve reached a goal you thought was going to bring the epitome of happiness, only to find that happy feeling was short-lived. We’re always raising the bar. I don’t know when the concept of contentment was lost, but I know I don’t see enough of it – too much of the grass-is-greener syndrome going around if you ask me.

Gretchen Rubin, author of “The Happiness Project” says that one way to combat hedonic adaptation is to cut back on luxurious enjoyment. (That almost sounds un-American.) Also, try stopping each day and just being grateful for the things in your life.  Avoid including external things – look to your inner resources. Take pleasure in the little things.

Get out there and go after something delightful . . . and intend on catching it!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Happy Halloween! I hope this finds you all scaring up some fun – even if you don’t officially celebrate. It’s difficult to escape all that surrounds what has become a cauldron filled with a mixed brew of beliefs and customs.

That said an entire industry has been built around the day and people’s enjoyment of fear. To be fair, there is also a whimsical side – adults would rather not be awakened by frightened children – complete with festive thank-goodness-it’s-finally-fall fun.  There’s something for everyone.

Listening to the radio for a few minutes will garner several locations within driving distance where you can pay to enter and enjoy a fearful adrenaline rush. Those venues come with names like Phobia, known for featuring clowns of all things; Screamworld, and of course all the haunteds  . . . woods, houses, etc.  I suppose phobophobiacs, those who have a fear of fear, avoid those. I’ve never attended any, but have heard the scariest parts are often the lines and wait to go through. No thanks.

If you’re one who would rather place your money on actual goods versus an experience, retail data shows Halloween only second to Christmas in home décor and the third largest party day of the year. Those in the business of making a profit off the day are quite spirited by the fact that despite the lagging economy, most of us were in the mood to spend more this year than last Halloween.  

Retailer Steven Silverstein, President of Spirit Halloween costume stores, says sales increase by 30 percent when Halloween falls on a Saturday and that Halloween should be officially moved to the last Saturday in October, regardless of the date. He and like-minded individuals descended on Capitol Hill earlier this month asking Congress to do just that. I can think of other things I want my elected officials working on.

Silverstein’s movement termed “Halloweekend” is currently circulating a petition. He claims “the recession can be ended, jobs created and Halloween will just be more fun”. While a staunch believer in capitalism and free markets, I’m not so sure this could get us out of the mess we’re in. I like his spirit, though – far better than the apparition of our government officials announcing just this week that it appears the recession is over.

Yes, the economy grew at 3.5 percent in the third quarter, ending four straight quarters of contracting economic activity. But . . . and it’s a big BUT . . . that “growth” was spurred by brisk federal spending and government-supported spending on cars and homes.  Think Cash for Clunkers and federal tax credits for first-time homebuyers. Sigh. Those willing to remove the masks are already stating it will be difficult to sustain such a recovery after government support for the programs end. Is it really a treat if we trick ourselves?

On a much lighter note, if you will be hosting trick-or-treaters at your home, be on the lookout for the vampire-costume trend.  We have once again (it goes in waves), due to the popularity of some books and movies, become entranced by vampires. But it’s different this time. They don’t look so scary any more. In fact, they’re quite good-looking and overtly seductive – be careful not to look them in the eyes.

After costumes, it wouldn’t be Halloween without jack-o-lanterns. Have you seen some of the elaborate designs? I’m amazed at what some can do with small tools and too much free time. I mean, it is going to rot. My children bought some rather large pumpkins to carve and plan on scooping out the innards of one and draping it out of the mouth to appear as though Mr. Jack O’Lantern has either a) partaken of too many confectionary delights, or b) spent a little time with me discussing the “end” of the recession. I know just how he feels. Have a Happy Halloween!

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Sunday is a special day to be celebrated and remembered; it’s Grandparents Day. Recall last year I mentioned there was some controversy over how to punctuate the holiday. I’ll use the form I found to be correct, but know there are disagreements. I’m beginning to wonder if there is anything we as human beings can collectively agree upon. That’s a topic for another day.

I wasn’t much on celebrating the holiday in the past because, while I’m a strong proponent of capitalism and free markets, I thought the whole thing was cooked up by greeting card companies. I’m not too proud to admit I was wrong.

It all started with Marian McQuade. She lobbied in the 70s to have the day officially recognized “to honor grandparents, to give grandparents an opportunity to show love for their children’s children, and to help children become aware of the strength, information, and guidance older people can offer.” All the grandparents I know certainly fit the bill, and they’re a versatile bunch as well – help is needed in different ways at different times. But best of all, grandparents provide countless children a soft place to fall.  

As I traverse the teen years – again (first time was hard enough, now I get three more trips) – with my children, their grandparents act as the buffers.  They help me put things in perspective, remind me what I was like at that age (they enjoy that a bit too much), and dispense the “this too shall pass” pep talk. I almost always feel better – doubly so if said child hangs out at their house, otherwise known as “the buffer zone”,  putting some much needed distance between me and the issue of the day.

My kids are blessed beyond words to have people in their lives who love them unconditionally (like I do) and aren’t jaded (like I am) by what I call the daily grind: homework, dirty clothes all over the bathroom and beyond, wet towels (my archenemy and biggest pet peeve) strewn about, and my supposed nagging over menial tasks that I’d not mention again if someone would just do them.  (The laughter you hear is my mother, Linda Rowe.  Before she does it for me, I’ll admit my room was atrocious. And the bathroom I shared with two brothers . . . let’s just not go there.)

The above brings me to where I shared my subject matter for this week with my middle child. While I know exactly what made my grandparents so dear to me, I wanted to hear his thoughts. “They’re nicer. They’re more fun. They like to do things kids enjoy – you don’t sit for hours and play video games with me or stay at the shooting range all day. They buy me nice things for no reason.” Dagger to my heart.  I was almost moved to tears before I remembered his grandparents are not the same people who raised me.

Sure, I have great memories of all sorts of things I did with my parents growing up. But, like me, they were stuck in that daily grind and all that entailed getting me to adulthood in one piece.  And to be honest, it’s their demeanor now that keeps me clawing my way back to sanity. One day, and I’m in no particular hurry, it will be my turn.

I cherish the thought of giving a seasoned “this too shall pass” speech. I may even snicker when it’s over. And the very best part: I’ll be able to loosen my stance and be some little do-no-wrong cherub’s soft place to fall.

Many thanks to all the grandparents who continually cushion the blows . . . the world would be a much harder place without you.   

© 2009 Natalie Whatley