Reinvention

Oh, Miley Cyrus. I only tuned into the MTV Music Awards to see if my darling *NSYNC boys would reunite. Texting back and forth, my friends and I eagerly anticipated the possibility of seeing our junior high heartthrobs once more.

One of my friends put her children to sleep and came over in her pajamas; we sat on my bed and ate candy until the wee hours (OK, confession: 11 p.m. is now the wee hours).

I think I could have a bar of soap for every person in that audience and I still wouldn't be able to scrub my eyeballs enough to obliterate your performance from my memory. That’s the funny thing about brains; I can’t remember any of my work passwords; but I will forever have those dancing bears etched into my subconscious.

When I realized that my beloved boy band would only dance for approximately 5.6 seconds (they’re getting older like us, I guess), I was even more furious that I had to endure “entertainment” from you and your peers to get my snippet of glory.

I think my beef with you—besides the obvious—is that you and your friends are trying to make reinvention synonymous with promiscuity; you are telling young girls that if they want to graduate from Hannah Montana, the natural next step is trading in their innocence.

And I’m here to tell ya, girls. It’s OK to change. It’s OK to switch up your likes and dislikes (“Your taste buds will change every few years,” says Mom). It’s OK to have an experience that rocks how you see the world. It’s even OK to reinvent yourself.

You can do this without shaving your hair off. I promise. You can do this without strutting around with nothing on in front of millions. I promise. You can do this without compromising who you are. Promise. Scout’s honor. You don’t even mysteriously gain the urge to leave your tongue spiraling out of your mouth like a lizard all the time.

I am not the Ashton from Paragould Junior High School (thank the good Lord); I am not the Ashton from college; I’m only a remnant of the Ashton who got married a year and a half ago. As time has gone on, I have seen a need for several reinvention interventions.

But they have made my life better; easier—not emptier and more humiliating.

• I used to be Judge Judy. Ok, not literally (otherwise I would be sitting at home counting my money, not writing this blog). This fun little reinvention formed after I got to be poor for a little while (Kudos, higher education). I sat in a low income health clinic and realized I couldn't even afford that. It hit me. No one wants to be poor. No one wants to fail as a parent. No one wants to have to ask for help. But there I was. If you replace your judgment with grace and your assumptions with compassion, I promise it will change your life.

• I used to have no worldview.  Travel the world if you get the chance. Or at least to some place that varies from your norm. When you meet kind and gracious people from a Muslim faith, you are less likely to stare at an airport. When it occurs to you that you are a tiny speck on a large map, your perspective of what's important will drastically alter.

• I used to be unhelpful. I didn't realize until I got married how little I did for my own mother growing up. I spent the first part of our marriage in a state of denial; I apparently lived in a world where my mom was going to show up and do all the stuff I didn't want to do. Now that I am pitching in and have laid to rest my pride, our partnership has gotten even stronger. And I've even made some semi-decent meals.

• I used to think everything was the end of the world. This is probably my latest work in progress. I once went to make a recipe and realized we didn't have eggs. You would have thought the small group was known for excommunicating members who had to make something else. I had someone say to me recently, "In every situation, ask yourself: 'What is the worst thing that can possibly happen here?" It's amazing the transformation that takes place when you realize you are ten times harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be.

• I used to have a list. Maybe it's just a youth group girl thing, but we all had blueprints of our perfect mate. I'm sure if you fed the paper into a machine that magically popped out a guy, it would respond with, "You're stupid." When I realized that God wasn't sending me on the hunt for this one guy from this one college with this one major with all these generic hobbies, guess what? I got married. And I found that qualities that were not even in my Top 10 made all the difference.

We'd be here all day if I listed every way that I have changed my heart; evolved my spirit; and donned a new look (farewell, red confetti glasses of '99).

But each stage was so needed in making me who I am today.

So please don't look to Hollywood to get your cues for transformation; look no further than yourself.

"Personal transformation can and does have global effects. As we go, so goes the world, for the world is us. The revolution that will save the world is ultimately a personal one."
Marianne Williamson

1938

So I found some “Tips for Single Women” from a 1938 article. Good thing the good Lord saw it fit to save my grand entrance into the world for later. Otherwise, I probably would have spent the roaring 20s and 30s sitting in a rocking chair in the attic collecting the bones of all of my animals while my sophisticated lady friends dated their way up in society. Let’s take a stab at some of them.

1. “Don’t use the car mirror to fix your make-up. Man needs it in driving, and it annoys him very much to have to turn around to see what’s behind him.” You want to talk annoying? Let’s talk annoying. I have to hurriedly plop globs of goop on my face (say that ten times fast) because society has almost made it an expectation. Sure, men have that awful chore of rotating their neck a fourth of an inch—but at least they don’t get asked if they’re sick a million times if they forego the eyeliner for a day. And have you TRIED to put on makeup in a car lately? It’s a wonder I haven’t had to have a mascara wand surgically removed from my eyeball.

2. “Don’t be familiar with the headwaiter talking about the fun you had with someone else another time. Men deserve, desire your entire attention.” Dang. I’m going to have to cool it in Olive Garden. Justin understands. More distracting small talk = more grated cheese on your salad. What Justin desires is more breadsticks, not attention. So schmooze your way to more carbs.

3. “If you need a brassiere, wear one. Don’t tug at your girdle and be careful your stockings are not wrinkled.” Ok, 1938, do you have some type of “brassiere test” we have to pass in order to justify needing one? Let’s go with 2013 here and flat out say: WEAR ONE. I don’t care who you are. I would rather you tug at your Spanx and not iron your pantyhose than have you cause me to gouge my own eyes out anytime it’s cold outside or unforeseen circumstances warrant you having to run.

4. “Don’t be sentimental or try to get him to say something he doesn’t want to by working on his emotions. Men don’t like tears, especially in public places.” You know. Because we women just live in excited anticipation for our next meltdown. We plan them actually. Personally, I keep tally of how many times I can cry in front of a crowd in a week’s time. We love being overtaken by a hormonal surge that makes us want to kill the ones we love the most.


5. “Don’t talk about clothes or try to describe your new gown to a man. Please and flatter your date by talking about the things he wants to talk about.” Cotton. Target Pajama Section. $10.99. That’s the end of my gown descriptions. (Not many fancy parties in my circle). And may I say you are looking dashing, fine sir, in your boxers with an unraveling waistband. How’s that for elegant evening flattery?

6. “Don’t sit in awkward positions—and never look bored, even if you are. Be alert, and if you must chew gum (not advised), do it silently, mouth closed.” I spend 8+ hours a day at work avoiding sitting in awkward positions. My reward for somehow maintaining an upright stature for 8 hours? Being as stinkin’ awkward as I want when I get home. I will lay my legs across your face if they want to be there. I will contort my body like a circus act to reach the remote before I will retrieve it like a normal person.

So when one of those “It’s tough to be a woman” days hits, just be thankful that we’ve reached a time when females can be transparent; they can be a little crazy and that’s OK; they can quit walking on eggshells; and an article making them feel better about themselves as wives, mothers, and women is just a Google search away rather than a newspaper article slap to the face. So, in honor of those who came before us, go sit awkwardly somewhere and smack your gum as loud as you can.

Anti-Bucket List

There is no easy way to transition from yesterday’s blog post to today’s more light-hearted banter. Whenever I am following up to an excruciatingly transparent entry, I always feel like that emotional teenager who has to come back into the family room after erupting in front of everyone: “So, yeah, I don’t hate any of you. I’m sorry.”

I read a column today where the author decided to make out an “Anti-Bucket List.”

It caught my attention because normally I have to sift through compilations of things people with a lot more drive than me are going to do before they turn 30 or whatever.

I have to know about the arch nemesis of this, I thought.

It made me want to do the same. So here we go:

· I will never eat yogurt for breakfast. I somehow get disillusioned sometimes in the grocery store and buy like a 6-pack of Yoplait. I will open the first one, eat a spoonful, gag, goodbye entire pack. No more.

· I will never run with a number on my back. If you receive word that I have paid a large lump sum of money to run, swim, bike, or anything else equally horrible, alert the authorities. My evil twin that no one knew I had has assumed my life and left me on a couch somewhere.

· I will never share one of those “If you love your husband, son, daughter, brother, sister” things on Facebook. I love you. You know I love you. And if you need an illustrated teddy bear to realize this, I might take it back.

· I will never look up the calorie count for a Zaxby’s chicken salad. I will live in my own little world where all salads are good for you.

· I will not stop using writing as an avenue to document my life. Pity the children whose every tantrum is a chapter in a book somewhere.

· I will never stop smiling when Justin affectionately refers to me as “Goopert.” I will never, however, allow this to become my full-time name when I’m 90 years old. “Great Aunt Goopert” is not happening.

· I will not fill my brain up with useless music trivia. Justin can ask, “Who sang this?” in every restaurant until we’re in nursing homes but I am not going to fill up my precious brain space with the 80s greatest hits.

· I will never purposely do any activity that puts me in imminent danger. If I get some incurable disease, don’t expect me to jump out of a plane. It’s just not going to happen.

We all get so caught up in what we haven’t done. Why not occasionally enjoy listing the things you’re just flat out not going to do? It’s kind of refreshing.

So start listing.

The Question

My absence from writing can be attributed to many things; new job stresses (in the form of me being given new responsibilities that involve math); career uncertainty (in the form of my bank being sold to another bank); change (in the form of Justin starting a new job tomorrow), household items breaking down (in the form of a $3500 AC condenser and Justin's truck being in the shop).

While all of these things are frustrating, inconvenient and a tad on the expensive side, they all pale in comparison to being witness to immense grief; to hearing other people say all the right things, the Christian things while you drive down the road letting God have it.

Instead of "holding your own loved ones closer tonight" like everyone is telling you to do on Facebook, you try not to distance yourself, the natural inclination that arises when you realize you may not get to keep them forever.

This is the phase of marriage that is hard to write about; it's hard to face; it's ugly.

It's not a funny list of your husband's worst habits. It's not a collection of anecdotes bemoaning the differences between men and women. It's not even about my love of junk food and my loathing of the gym.

It's the reason I have sat in front of a blinking cursor for the past several weeks.

Because sometimes, sometimes you have to come face-to-face with something terrifying; something that trumps blogged about burnt dinners and the mystery of the missing sock in the laundry.

And that scary question is this: If we were handed similar circumstances, would we still be faithful to the Lord? Would we become unified or would we push each other out? If one of us left this Earth, would the other one live out our legacy or become debilitated with anger?

It may be one month in, two months in, a year in. But one day you will look at your marriage in a whole new way; through the lens of that less popular part of your vows that includes that sad stuff that kind of ruins the bubbly Jack Johnson song you have playing in the background.

You wonder about the results of the test, while praying fervently that you are spared the lesson.

This isn't to say that I won't go back to affectionately recounting love's goofy happenings; or will no longer use this as a forum to make people laugh.

I am simply encouraging all couples--young and old-- to recommit to the promises you made to your spouse when your biggest worry was running out of wedding punch;

To recommit to the Lord the decision you made when your biggest worry was not passing out in front of the whole congregation.

Love one another; let the little things slide, realize that pet peeves are nothing more than that; and ask each other tough questions that may require a next-day answer.

It's not always pretty; sometimes the other person may even wonder who they married; but I promise you that growth will result.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.
C. S. Lewis

 

 

 

 

 

Lesson

I read a Forbes article yesterday called, “20 Things 20-Year-Olds Don’t Get.” While there was some truth to what he said, it has been muddling around in my brain since I read it. Maybe it’s because he was an entrepreneur at 20, made the cover of “20 Under 20” lists and is pretending to be the Morgan Freeman guiding voice of all young dreamers—most of whom won’t even grace the cover of their hometown newspaper.

I have a natural inclination to be a Debbie Downer; however, I have also lived in the non-Forbes society for quite a while now. I see the mistakes that young professionals make, and I now comprehend why they make them. I see the flaws in what we teach because I have methodically followed that teaching to a few dead-end roads.

Here are four things 20-Year-Olds Now Get:

1. All those people we met on college field trips are the exception, not the rule. You want to know why young professionals feel so gosh darn entitled to a dream job right out of the gate? Because you introduced them to a PR graduate who now represents Beyonce. Maybe if they saw the business graduate who is managing a local restaurant rather than the guy who “worked hard for two long years to become the founder of his own non-profit,” they would be less likely to forget the importance of diligence and patience.

2. Being mean is not interchangeable with a push for excellence. Oh, the demanding boss that builds a solid career foundation. For a generation that seeks inspiration daily and often speaks of equality, it is counterproductive to imply that someone making them a personal servant is the equivalent to warm regards for their future success. Sometimes the 30-year reign of terror just needs to end.

3. No one cares about anything you thought they would care about. So college sponsors—please stop telling your students that for only $95 and a cheesy candlelight ceremony, they can have a coveted society on their resume. They’re going to need that money for supper one day and the interviewer will just think it’s a sorority.

4. Compassion. When you have your MBA and you are making minimum wage when you start out, BOY do the rights of McDonald’s workers seem a little more pertinent. Maybe that lady who doesn’t have insurance isn’t irresponsible; maybe she can’t afford to feed her kids and give them proper healthcare. It’s amazing the clarity of mind that comes when you exit the worship of academia.

I challenge you: The next time you’re tempted to bemoan the mistakes of young professionals, ask yourself how they developed that incorrect notion. We can’t pump them full of expectations and projected salaries and then complain when they’re tired of waiting. We can’t paint them a picture of perfection and watch idly as they see it fade into gray.

They need encouragement, not lists. They need leaders, not lessons.

Only then will the real education be received.

Royal

Oh, sweet little George. What excitement you have created in the world this week. Women, probably some who don’t even have babies, have put your car seat on rush order. The name of your swaddling blanket print (I think it involved a jungle) made top of the fold news—some journalists will never get that spot.

I’m sure royal crazies in rural Alabama will name their son George—and tell that child every day of his life, “You were named after the royal baby George, not your weird great-uncle in Birmingham.”

And what about the chick who decides she HAS to leave the hospital in a replica of Kate's dress? How does that go down? I guess you have to pretend grandma with the iPhone is British paparazzi.

Despite the above paragraphs dripping with sarcasm and disdain, I can honestly say—I kind of get it. Kind of.

I like to read magazines; and the business section of online news; and pretty much any female opinion piece that gains my attention.

And it seems like all the articles are the same: “Why Work is ‘Never Done’ For Many Women,” “The New Movement She Thinks We Need,” “Your Weight Could Impact More Than You Think,” and “What These 7 Wildly Successful Women Have in Common.” And lest we forget how to do all these and get a killer bikini body at the same time.

It seems like, in an effort to better our gender, we have minimized ourselves to a Huffington Post section that thinks you have to be a "mean girl" to keep up with the dudes at work.

And you know what?

Sometimes you just want to talk about princesses.

Sometimes your corporate ladder was from Home Depot and it fell off the roof.

Sometimes getting off the couch to clean up the kitchen is the only movement you can muster.

Sometimes the only subordinate you will see in a day is a dachshund who decided tearing into a garbage bag of her own feces was a good idea.

So if that swaddling blanket makes you feel like Queen Mom today, swaddle away. If wearing a polka dot dress after 14 hours of labor makes you feel sexy, get fancy. If your daughter wants to be a princess when she grows up instead of a doctor, buy her a pink dress.

If getting excited about a baby across the world makes your day a little brighter, get excited.

We all deserve to be royal every once in a while.

 

 

 

5 Things Non-Parents Shouldn't Say to Parents

I shared a link from a friend this morning called, “5 Things Parents Shouldn’t Say to Non-Parents.” While I found the author’s writing style to be the right balance of wisdom and hilarity, I debated passing it along for fear that parent friends would rake through their entire friendship history with the childless people in their lives. If this was you, quit it. Chances are—if your friends are anything like me—they are so preoccupied with the dog poop on their carpet that they didn’t bother to notice the way you elevated your baby’s diaper blowout situation.

The truth is—we are all so wrapped up in our own lives; working mom, stay-at-home mom, not-a-mom, married, unmarried; that it often encompasses how we see the world and molds the expectations we project on other people.

I’m sure, beloved Momma-friends—that I have some apologies to dish out of my own. So here are the things I’m sorry for saying (or thinking, equally as bad):

1. I wish I had more time to myself. To a non-mother, this translates into: “My husband came in and turned it to ESPN before the four-hour season finale of ‘The Bachelorette’ was over.” To my sisters who have to call together a Pentagon strategizing session to determine the logistics of their next shower, this sounds an awful lot like SHUT. UP.

2. I want my old body back/I need to lose weight. You may very well need to lose weight—but newsflash: you don’t feel like a hot air balloon that someone just stuck a needle in. You don’t feel like your entire body just lost a game of tug-of-war. You don’t have to wear maternity pants when you’re no longer pregnant. And, most importantly, you don’t have to watch Heidi Klum go straight from the delivery room back onto the cover of a magazine in “10 Easy Steps.” So cool it with the fatty talk.

3. You see that child over there? My kid will never do that. I’m sure the karma involved with this one is enough to help you put a lid on your laughter for the time being. I know you readily anticipate the day when I plop my brilliant toddler in front of a mind-numbing cartoon; and the day that I cave in and buy the sugary cereal so she will stop throwing a fit in the middle of Kroger. You will inwardly rejoice when my stubborn preschooler insists on dressing like a hobo to go to church.

4. Hey, we should totally go [shopping, out to eat, to a movie] right now. Because by saying this I am of course suggesting that you leave your infant under the care of your Golden Retriever and Siamese cat. Instead, try this question on for size: “Do you want me to bring you some lasagna?”

5. I’m so tired. I stayed up late last night [reading, watching “Everybody Loves Raymond” re-runs, eating at IHOP at 2 a.m.]. Unless you can fill in that blank with “being an in-home dairy farm,” just don’t say it at all. For people who want nothing more than to gain some shut-eye, your blatant choice to stay up doing stupid stuff is just not helpful.

You see, we are all guilty of living within the realms of our own experiences; we are all guilty of playing the one-up game.

And it doesn’t even necessarily require walking in someone else’s shoes to remedy the problem; it just takes a little humility and the realization that—at some point, in some way—everyone’s shoes are going to step in some poop.