A photo posted by Melissa Young (@thejaybirdblog) on
I decided it was time to chuck out this wee little dish rag that has faithfully served me lo, these many years, or since the early 2000s. If you know me at all, it should come as no surprise that this silly picture screams METAPHOR for MARRIED LIFE.
I'll try not to belabor the point, but isn't that the way we start out? We forge into coupledom armed with good intentions and a registry wand, carefully debating the color schemes for our wedding, and in extension the beautiful life we will be building. Linens, china, and my own personal Waterloo, dye-able bridesmaid shoes.
Say no to the dyeable.
(A word to young brides of the '10s: before there was chalkboard art and turquoise pumps, there were dye-ables. Pink dye-ables, in my case. Don't sweat the Pinterest board. The dye-ables didn't break me; don't let the choreographed first dance break you.)
It is fine and good to having a pretty wedding and heavens knows I love a good one. But as my dish rag will attest, the rubber meets the road soon enough. The good china gets knicked, the towels get caught and rip in the dryer; the waistlines stretch, the hair recedes, the shiny and new becomes old and familiar. The wispy dreams become ordinary reality, and you sometimes don't recognize that girl you used to be.
That girl had lots and lots of optimism. Pages and pages of earnest prayers. Years and years of Sunday school lessons and youth trips and singles retreats.
She had hour upon hour of free time, dollar upon dollar of disposable income, outfit upon outfit in a single digit dress size.
This, well, grown-up woman, has lunch upon lunch to pack, basket upon basket of laundry to run, event upon event to schedule.
Face upon face to kiss, hug upon hug to steal, laugh upon laugh to share.
So, yeah. I enjoyed the fresh kitchen linen years.
But the holey, faded, rag-tag ones are sacred. Because they are more real.
It's been too quiet here, and I've always got ideas rolling around in my head, so I'm taking advantage of this quiet moment (Rachel is napping; Sarah walked into her room of her own accord and starting playing dolls--- I crept backward slowly as not to startle her in natural habitat-- and the fact that she didn't ask me to stay with her or make some deal or ask to watch TV really needs to be documented).
What's shakin' here in this corner of the world:
1. We survived Spring Break
We had several appointments to keep, our regular speech and OT appointments, and a day trip to Atlanta to knock our every-several-months check-in with the Marcus Autism Center. We've learned through trial-and-error that the best way to attack this appointment is for me to take Jay solo and Alex to stay home with the girls. Every other configuration-- making it a long weekend or taking the girls wears us and and defeats the purpose of getting 1:1 time with a specialist. I instragrammed (is that in Merriam Webster yet?) a shot of us leaving, and the last two visits have been nothing short of easy, and surprisingly, encouraging. I have a whole 'nother post about this to write, but with autism, and with visits like this to the specialist, it's a quick snaphot of my child and it can feel defeating-- a stranger rattling off tasks and prompts for him to complete when said child has a processing delay as well as a whole host of "static" jamming his channels like sensory needs and idiosyncratic speech. Maybe it was the quiet car ride, or the familiarity, or the calm atmosphere (the waiting room was almost empty and we went right in), but J owned the vital stats portion and even seeing the NP instead of the doctor, attended and worked with her and she was great. Having a child with special needs can make the parent feel like every interaction with a professional is a test to be passed. In case you weren't aware, that doesn't make for a healthy frame of mind. Bottom line: My child is growing, as all children grow, at his own pace and in his own time, but he is growing, and that's such an affirming thing. I ran into our pastor this weekend out and about, and through tears ('cause when someone really cares and it's about my boy, I can't help it) I said, "There's not enough good things I can say about Jeremiah." He's a silly, beautiful, happy boy who loves and knows he's loved and I'm privileged to have a front row seat.
2. Swim lessons!
I've put these off because I wanted to wait until J had the maturity level to make the attempt worth it. The girls started last week, it is was a hoot. I told them, "She'll just show you how to blow bubbles today," but no ma'am, it was catch and release, sink or swim, go grab that wall. There was much screaming, and "I want Mommy" and "I want to be done" in the short 10 minute lesson each girl took. Can I tell you I giggled the whole time? Because I knew it was just about control and the girls were safe and could do it? And maybe even secretly thought it was a great thing to see my big girl taken to task with a bit of tough love? Need help disciplining? Swim lessons. It's worth the investment. The second lesson there was a bit of sniffling, but much more learning, and Rachel declares she will "swim like a mermaid" and I don't mind telling you she is the brightest toddler in existence. It's simple fact. She talks like she's years older but has that little-bitty voice, and the chubbiest face and limbs and satisfies my need to baby a little person. She's delicious.
A photo posted by Melissa Young (@thejaybirdblog) on
3. We had two date nights last week: Praise You, Lord.
It seems like whenever we get to go out that Alex and I just pick up on the conversation we left hanging two weeks prior. I got to use words like "myopic" and "drivel" in context which affirmed in me my gift of language. Some beat their bodies into submission, and I, well, throw around my 9th grade vocabulary list into everyday conversation. Use it or lose it. We got to support our local pregnancy center and eat at the Rookery with all manner of hip individuals and talk about the continuity of the Bible and how I want to save our kids from wrong thinking about God, but that's inevitable, because, duh, GOD, and his ways are beyond tracing out and sometimes you have to learn things for yourself. I could only imagine what our server and fellow patrons thought about us as they drank their Jimmy Carter shakes (banana, peanut butter, and bacon-- we resisted) and ate their locally sourced beef topped with pimento cheese and bread and butter pickles (yes, please). We had a simpler date night this weekend, me scrapbooking and Alex working on the computer at our Panera. It was rather glamorous. But really refreshing.
4. Sugar Detox (you read that correctly)
Friends. This is me being pretty vulnerable with you. I have some weight concerns. Some issues you might say. It's taken a long while (oh, maybe 7 years) but in the last few days, it keeps coming up that change is making up your mind little bit by little bit, reprogramming your brain. In spiritual terms, it's obedience, and that's not a once-and-done decision.
I love to eat. I love all things cheesy and pasta-y and chocolate-y. I know all the things one should know about eating right, but I've not been able to sustain it, and haven't wanted to. Basically, I was hoping that I could somehow keep the same habits I've had all my life even though my metabolism and lifestyle is very different from what it was before children.
Well, the combination of poor choices (a sickening amount of Easter candy) and a few more gentle reminders that sugar is addictive, even though it's associated with fun and celebrations and won't harm you in the moment to moment; it has long-term effects that slowly erode your health.
So, despite my inclination to think we can get a bit too precious and picky about our eating as a first-world culture, I can't deny that it's a problem for me.
So I googled "sugar detox," read a Dr. Oz article (cliched, much?) and woke up determined to eat slow proteins, real food, and no sugars or sweeteners for three days. I was de-cruding the kitchen all morning and short-order-cooking for the kids, so I just popped some Swiss cheese in my mouth and chased it with dark coffee. In food desperation, I pulled out the 2 year old bag of split peas that have languished on the shelf and made soup and attacked it for an early lunch. One glass of water and aspirin later, and I'm surprisingly okay. Maybe I've been so run down for so long it's not big deal. Or maybe I'll feel worse tomorrow due to "toxic hunger" as the Dr. Oz article suggested.
Anyway, I'm making a baby step and trying to change my behavior and some of our family food routines which is hard, but that's my job.
5. Encouragement
Finally, I've read or listened to some great things this week that I wanted to pass along.
I was in the mood for some feel good 70s music today as I was spring cleaning and I discovered something. Two of my favorite power ballads from the 90s are actually 70s originals. I knew they were remakes, but didn't know the belonged to that wild and wacky decade. Thus, I feel the need to tally:
MELISSA'S BEST OVER-EMOTING, HAND-GESTURE MAKING POWER BALLADS
You're The Inspiration (When You Love Somebody) by Chicago: This is nothing more than a feel- good-about-life kind of song. No unrequited love, no heartbreak. Just--You. You're it. It can be applied to any kind of love and its the kind of song that means more the older you get. I like to do the drum riffs and echo back ("when you love some-bo-DAY!")
Without You by Mariah Carey
"No, I. Can't forget this evenin'...." You know a song brings the drama when it begins with a sigh. I have a feeling any little girl who got a karoke machine for Christmas 1992 (not to get too specific or anything) may have this one in her repertoire of "Love Gone Wrong."
All By Myself by Celine Dion
Like many other teenaged girls of the mid-90s, I discovered this song from Clueless as Cher walks down the stairs to her pool and realizes, duh, she loves Josh. I love the theatrics of the song, especially when it gets whispery as sung by Celine. You just gotta give yourself a chest bump and bring the magic in honor Ms. Dion.
Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me by Gladys Knight
This song, now, makes me think of my kids. It may or may not be the line I'll inscribe in the forward of my (almost) imaginary memoir. It's soulful and honest: "If anyone/should ever write/my life story/for whatever reason there might be/you'll be there/ in each line of pain and glory/'cause your the best thing that ever happened to me."
I Dreamed a Dream-- Glee Cast Featuring Lea Michele and Idina Menzel
This song struck a chord with me before I'd seen the musical and knew the larger context of the story. In this version, the actresses are telling the narrative of the story from the perspective of a mother who has given up her daughter and the daughter who wants to be a part of her life, but it's too late. Idina Menzel sings the part of heartbreak, and Lea Michele sings the hopeful lines. It's soaring ballad that makes you feel as though you too have been abandoned in revolutionary France. Definitely one to belt out in the shower.
One Day More & Bring Him Home-- From Les Miserables Live 2010 Cast Album
Basically, I wish I could sing every part in this musical. One Day More has to be (if I had to choose) my stand-alone favorite song. Everything is in the song: separating lovers, duty to a cause, choosing one's destiny; it's all there. "One More Dawn, One More Day, One Day More." It's almost a life philosophy. I love it and like to imagine it's playing somewhere in heaven.
Bring Him Home is about a father's love and the raw emotion and truth in it will bring the hardest cynic to tears. The song starts out gently, as a prayer and builds to a plea to exchange one life for another. If this is not downloaded to your device of choice, I implore you. Give it a listen and rectify the situation. Humanity demands it of you.
What have I forgotten? I know I've left off Whitney, and she's one of the best for power ballads. Let me hear from you!
(Sorry if this gif is giving you a seizure. Celine's brilliance is overpowering.)
I've managed to find the will to blog even though DA is finished for the year. Here are a few things that are making me happy lately:
1. Scrap booking: I don't do many of the traditional womanly arts well, but I can slap a few pictures on pretty paper and write down everything I remember about the captured moments. I have my feet in both the digital and tactile world of memory preservation, and I think both are important. I just discovered chatbooks, a subscription based company that takes your Instagram pictures into a 4 x 4 bound book for only $6 a book. Each time you reach 60 pictures, you receive a book. Shipping is included and there's practically no work involved. You pick the cover picture, delete any pictures you'd don't want printed, and that's it. I'm uploading any impromptu pictures I take from my phone to Instragram now so I can keep a running record of our day to today. Making anything with your hands is therapeutic for the mind and body and there is a sense of completion in the product. I started scrapbooking after college as a hobby (when I wasn't at church, teaching or the library) because I was a social butterfly and well, a bit of a premature Memaw. So be it. I opened up that scrapbook and giggled at the subject matter: a page on my sister, my Mom, and weekend trips I made down the GA-SC coast. Clearly, I was sweater-set wearing, bible-study-going, non-dating wild child at the time. (Not that there's anything wrong with that. At all.) Anyhoo. That's my early twenties and it makes me thankful that I kept to the straight and narrow, even though it makes for sedate reminiscences. I made a scrapbook for each child and every so often add a page. Since I don't do it on a regular basis, I'm just trying to get each year of their life documented with some major life event represented. I've got most our Christmases and birthdays present and accounted for so that one day when I'm gone, maybe they'll be glad their old Mama took the time to preserve their childhood. I can hope.
2. Dave Barnes: I recently found this singer-songwriter through some (wait for it) blogs I follow--shocker! He has a new EP out called Hymns for Her and it sounds like a perfect soundtrack for springtime in the South. It's upbeat and has a toe-tappin' love song ("Good Day for Marryin' You) and a beautiful instrumental ("Mississippi"). You can find him on Spotify or Pandora or just plunk down $6.99 for the EP. Worth the listen.
3. Bird by Bird by Anne Lamont: I've heard this author's name several times and I checked out her book on writing. She's a novelist and memoirist and this book is very approachable. I'm about a third of the way through the book and the best nugget I'm picked out is that with any discipline, in this case writing, you commit to practicing the discipline daily and the greatest reward will and has to be the discipline itself. Writers write to write. Painters paint to paint. Publication or recognition may come in time, but this is not the ultimate goal or satisfaction of the process. It is self-expression. It's doing the work consistently over time that reaps benefits. This is kinda a "no duh" sentiment but as my husband always is quick to remind me, most things in life aren't HARD to understand, but hard to carry out.
I'm so happy it's warm this week that I pulled out a short-sleeved shirt and skirt and it's heavenly not to be bundled in jeans and a hoodie. I'm feelin' all kinds of sassy that I dressed like a human that functions in the world even if it was to run to the grocery store. That's all I got. Hope you're enjoying the early signs of Spring!
A photo posted by Melissa Young (@thejaybirdblog) on
* Thomas: Meow. To Mr. Bates, offering to cut off his right arm if it would help Anna: "We can't have you wobbly at both ends."
* I have to say I'm impressed at how Robert has mellowed. He's at peace with Edith's decision to bring her child home and allowing her to do it on her own terms.
* Love Cora's hat on the train.
* Uh-oh. Robert has unexpected pain. This doesn't bode well. Especially since his dog was sick too. Downton Abbey country song, perhaps?
* The silk wallpaper is fab at Atticus' family home.
* Ooh. This valet is giving Thomas a dressing down. He's actually sticking up for Tom.
* Violet's reuniting the Prince and Princess. Awkward.
* Gauntlet thrown on the restorative broths. Simmer down, Spratt.
* Atticus' mom, Lady Sinderby, is a class act befriending Tom.
* Anna's confession. Ugh. Childhood victimization. I'm surprised Anna doesn't wear an actual halo over her softly lit, tragic countenance. She's a fighter.
* Mrs. Hughes and Carson's date/investment property outing :)
* First Violetism of the Night: "The presence of strangers is our only guarantee of good behavior."
* Upstairs-Downstairs intrigue to take the butler down a peg! Don't mess the Crawleys. #teamchauffer
* Well, the Princess is a peach.
* Dowagers! Russian Princesses! Let's get ready to ruuuuuuumble!
* Mrs. Patamore is a doll and I love how she puts Carson in his place like a little boy when she has the remaining staff, even the kitchen maid, Daisy, sit at the same table.
* The scheme to embarrass the butler goes awry and embarrasses everyone.
* "So tomorrow we say goodbye..." Wouldn't it be awesome if Violet and the Prince broke out into "Summer Lovin'" in some alternative universe?
* "This was my last immoral proposition from a man. Was I wrong to savor it?" Mild laughter with misty eyes. Master class delivery.
* Robert has chest pain. NO MORE DEATH SCENES!
* Edith should wear her hair down more. It's pretty with curls.
* Edith wanting a FATHER's FORGIVENESS. That's a powerful thing. Downton is deep.
* Kitchen intrigue! Sneaking in a broth! So many plots to keep track of!
* Classic Mary romance set-up... Aggravated at the neighbor set to come over for the shoot, upsetting the party count. From the previews, he's our new Charles Blake. Hottie-Boom-Body Part Deux. (Oh, y'all. And he has piercing blue eyes. And Edith's talking to the estate's agent! It's rainin' men. Halleluyer.)
* Have I mentioned I love Mrs. Hughes? Caring for her sister and not able to retire? "I've enjoyed our little dream." Please, Carson. Snatch her up.
* Oh my word. Does Lord Sinderby have a second, secret family? Downton bringin' the hushed scandal. (Yes. The little boy is named Daniel after Lord Sinderby. Lovely Rose saves the day.) Stop it with the children not knowing who their parents are. For real. Live in the light.
* Edith in coral! Gorgeous! Get 'em girl!
* Bates makes a false confession. Molesly going to save the day. Reminds me of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. This is his moment.
* Mr. Talbert, you've piqued Mary's interest. And then he jumps in the car, James Dean style. Charles Who? (We'll always have your hair, Charles.)
* Little poppets decorating the Christmas tree. Wish we could watch DA when it airs in England.
* Baxter and Molesly: Crime Solvers! Like an English "Hart & Hart" episode.
* They having a moment for Sybil. Sweet to see Mary and Edith putting aside rancor for a millisecond.
* Ooh, Daisy giggling at the new footman. Cheeky.
* Violet and Isobel girl-talking about their loves-gone-wrong. (Robert's sloshed).
* That Tom. *He's* a jolly good fellow.
* It's the Sweeney (Crawley) Sisters! Clang-clang-clang went the trolley!
* GALLANT gesture alert. Carson bought Mrs. Hughes a house. NO WAY! HE IS DECLARING HIMSELF!!!!!!!! She's smiling! I can't handle it! "Of course I'll marry you!!!!!!!!"
Hurrah for taking chances!
credit: dailymail.co.uk
* Robert's gonna cry. God bless us, everyone.
* No. Bates walks through the door at "O Come Let Us Adore Him." Christmas miracle: Check!
*Reunited and it feels so good! Anna + Bates = Happy Christmas
To continue with the faux British-isms, I'm knackered. Pure wish fulfillment. Jolly good fun and see you in 2016, DA friends!
