Tag: happily ticked off

Uncategorized

I’ll Take a Venti Life with 3 Pumps of Sweetness and a Side of Career. Oh, And I Have a Coupon

Andrea Frazer

wwwww

So the award for the longest title goes to me.

Also the award for the biggest tantrum on the planet. It has been going on for two days two years. And now it’s ending. What I really needed to do two years ago was give myself a spanking to snap out of it, but I don’t believe in corporal punishment, so instead I whined and complained and basically made myself and many around me miserable.

And then last week I threw water at my argumentative teenager which was my wake up call to give myself a time out on my nuttiness. And here’s what I learned.

Right now I’m exactly where I need to be.

I’m not God so I can stop pretending to run the universe. He has a plan for my kids, my hubby, my job, my entitled sausage of a dog… all of us.

I’m working at Starbucks.

I can stop feeling bad about it. It’s not because I suck at writing or because I couldn’t get something better. It’s because it’s an honest living. I get to stretch that side of me that hates discipline, order and routine and become good at it. Why? Because how can I expect my kids to do the same if I haven’t learned that lesson?

In taking a little time to myself the other day (a long time coming, I might add) it really sank in that my current job situation is tough for a creative like me. But it’s not impossible. And it’s not necessarily a punishment or a burden. It’s quite the opposite.

Getting paid pennies to show up on time, flex new sides of my brain and show professionalism when I want to scream are valuable life skills that I need to be ready when the bigger stuff hits. It’s allowing me to become a warrior in my own life. This is not a crap job. It’s a magic tool belt to refine my spirit. It’s a petri dish for my character defects and because of it I get to grow.

Life is not a Starbucks drink. I don’t get to stand in line with a kushy gift card and order a Venti Existence with Three Pumps of Joy and a Side of Career. (With a gift card no less!) I get to earn it fair and square so I’m ready when the big stuff comes along.

And here’s the real kicker: What if the big stuff is not out there? What if this is the big stuff… this very minute? This very “smells like Pike standing on my feet working it all out in a green apron” minute? Is that good enough?

The very plain answer is yes. Because right here… right now… is where my kids get to be 12 and 13. Where I get to work on my relationship with my spouse. Where I get to serve others and love on my nasty customers and try to make someone else’s world better each and every day.

And in doing so I get the greatest riches of all.

Peace.

Just a few thoughts for today.

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

bookcover profile pic

 

 

Uncategorized

Happily Ticked Off – The Book Preview

Andrea Frazer

Hello friends!

Between my new very fancy all important writing job new barista gig at Starbucks, as well as a few writing gigs on the side/Ebay/kid wrangling, I’ve been neglecting the one place that always brings me contentment no matter what. So I’m back – and this time – I bring a video.

 

Until next time,

May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

7 Things to Help Reduce Tics!

Andrea Frazer

7 TIPS

Before my book came out I was blogging pretty regularly for the New Jersey Center for Tourette Syndrome. One of the posts that garnered 61 comments was on Five Things that Can Help With Tics.

A few years later, and with more research, I have decided to update the list a bit for new parents who keep writing me with the same question.

Question: How do I fix the tics?

Answer: There is no one-size-fits all answer. Every child is different.

What Can You Do If You’re Freaking Out About Tics? 

I’m no doctor, but after 10 years at this I can passionately state that all kids tic for a variety of reasons. I, personally , didn’t feel medication was the answer right off the bat for my son. It still isn’t. If it got severe enough, of course I would consider it, but so far it has not.

Here’s what I tell all parents who write me with concerns over their ticking kids. I tell them to ask a few important questions – the same ones I asked myself.

Questions to Ask if Your Child is Ticking

  • Could there be vitamin deficiencies happening?
  • What kind of environmental stressors could be worked on? (Less tension at home, less electronics?, etc.)
  • How much sleep is your child getting?
  • What kind of exercise is your child getting?
  • What does your child’s diet consist of?

It’s Up To You!

None of these questions are meant to either shame or suggest there are simple answers for complicated tic issues. Again, each child is different. My suggestion is to go to a naturopath and have your child evaluated for his/her individual condition. If you are low on funds (which I was) you can start with the basics and see if this helps. It helped in our case and I hope it helps in yours!

supplements

5 Things to Help With Tics

  1. Magnesium: I gave my son 500 mg of magnesium a day, and it really helped with his eye rolls and vocals. For some little kids this might be too much, but I’ve been told the worst thing excess magnesium can do is cause diarrhea. Now my son takes a calcium/magnesium supplement as the magnesium is best absorbed with calcium. The ratio is double the calcium to the magnesium.
  2. Gluten Free: It was a pain, but it helped, and continues to help enormously. He can concentrate more and can fall asleep quickly. When he was not gluten free, it would take hours for him to settle down. He is still a high energy kid, but much less so now.
  3. Dairy Free: Ditto the gluten. It was a pain, but we’ve found many ways to supplement his calcium through rice milk, vegetables and fruit.
  4. Sleep: 10 hours of sleep a night is crucial and a huge tic reducer.
  5. No artificial flavors or preservatives: My son is very sensitive to chemicals. They can set tics off like bee around a honey pot. Not worth the sting of excess tics except on special occasions.

2 Other Supplements * Talk to you Naturopath first * 

6. NAC  – Standing for N-Acetylcysteine, this is an amino acid that can be purchased at any vitamin store. This natural supplement acts as an antioxidant and glutamate modulating agent.

According to this webinar, featuring Dr. Mark Mintz, “They (a study) found the N-acetyl cysteine decreased symptoms of trichotillomania (hair pulling) compared to placebo. It makes theoretical sense as NAC can modulate dopamine. So, there are reports that NAC can improve mood disorders as well (such as obsessive compulsive disorder). There needs to be more research and reports to have a better handle on the effects of NAC in Tourette, but it appears to show some promise.”

7. Taurine – I talk about Taurine here. My son is currently on 500 MG but I think he could use 1000. That said, I will talk to my naturopath first!

What have been your experiences with tics? Did any of you find it made a difference for your children? What about in some of your cases where tics were more severe? Would love to hear!

Until next time, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

bookcover profile pic

Uncategorized

Hippe…Hippie…Hooray!

Andrea Frazer

nest

A few friends of mine are getting together in a couple weeks to get some goals accomplished. It’ll be kind of a mini salon, except without the French people and berets. Think moms and dads with pony tails and uni-brows shoving Trader Joe’s taquitos into their pie holes, sipping Diet Coke and downing Two Buck Chuck. (Um, with the crowd I’m known to link arms with, the uni-brows and pony tails describe either the men or the women. No judgement.)

It’s that last part that really gets me scratching my head at times. I truly never expected to be that person who, at 46, was sending out invites to fellow writers and painters to meet on my cull de sac on a Friday evening. I thought I’d be a hip studio climber, hob nobbing with script writers and discussing pilot premieres. And I did.

For a time.

But these days, I find myself less excited over television releases and more thrilled over musical theater releases.

It’s less about show launches and more about the premiere of book launches.

When it comes right down to it, I’m less interested in image. I’m more interested in soul. I’m not a hip person – I’m a hippie!

Many of my friends have gawked at me with my whale backpack, turquoise earrings and enough library books to kill a poodle in a single drop and utter, “Duh! HIPPIE!” But me? This comes as a surprise. Hippie-ness kind of snuck up on me while I was still fast clinging to my ego. And, well, as much as I hate to admit it, my ego was pretty massive. It had me twenty pounds lighter and twenty times richer.

It had me raising kids with hip names like Vida and Jax. These weren’t kids that snuck Hump Day videos on my computer every Wednesday or chastised me for not giving them money to get a fancy dog trainer for our dog. Heck, my ego would not have chosen THIS crazy mutt from the pound in the first place!

dg

I was supposed to have a yoga body not just because I worked out, but because I could afford yoga classes.

I was supposed to drink Starbucks every day because that’s where I had my writing meetings, not because that was where I worked. Maybe. (Not saying I will or will not be working there, but let’s just say that health benefits at this time do not suck.)

Lest you think I want to live as a modest hippie for the rest of my life, getting hopped up on free Venti White Mochas, I do not. I will not say no to a bigger career if that is what God has for me. I will live in abundance and always work my craft. But for now… when I get really still… when I drown out all those other voices that tell me what I should want, a quiet whisper defiantly rises up reminding me of what I really want.

And I want this.

e

The big, messy, chaotic, impractical, not always perfect but amazing life that I have.

Because on the rare occasion after a hike we take that fabulous family photo…

a

… most days we’re just getting through the day by day with as much joy as possible.

This means turning Costco into an icy adventure.

f

And enjoying family walks to school because both my hubby and I are not working such nutty hours that we can’t enjoy the turning of leaves or a quick wave to Wing, the neighbor, who is so proud of his daughter for getting into UC Irvine. Go Ant Eaters!

c

I want conversations with my son in the front seat of our stinky SUV on the difference between “taking a joke” and “not standing up for oneself” and, when the ticking – which is on a very high upswing these days gets a bit frustrating – I want to put my hand on on his and be grateful for his ticking heart.

 

Embracing what is, not what I wish was, makes my now living wow living. It’s not one I take for granted – even on my super tired, nothing is working, OH FOR DUCK SAKE days.

Along a similar bend,  a new blog I found, Grief Happens, has been talking about meditation these days. It’s been fun to watch her journey. I don’t know if I’ll start a sitting and breathing practice myself, but I’m all for becoming more intentional with who I’m sitting with.

b

And as long as I’m breathing in more peace – even if that means talking art with my friends on a Friday night instead of being at a club or a show premiere this hippie will take it.

Anyone out there find life different than what they expected? I want to hear!

Until next time, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

bookcover profile pic

 

Uncategorized

The Cluster

Andrea Frazer

sss

In the immortal words of Cartman, “Poor people… they tend to live in clusters.”

If I’m not careful, I can resemble that remark. Yes, I have a roof over my head, but my poverty mindset is always licking at my ears.

Poverty Mindset

“I’ll never get a job that works for my skill set…” (Note: Highlites of skill set include being a six one white mom rapper and the ability to get life stories out of homeless people and Costco shoppers in five minutes or less. Sometimes four minutes if I’ve downed more than one coffee sample.)

“I’m a bad mom for not being able to suppress Stink’s tics after all this time…” (Note: The whole ‘I can cure Tourettes thing?’ That’s up there with my other skill set: Denial Clinging. I’m so good at it!)

“The credit cards… they are still not paid off.” (No comment)

“This friend cut me off… that family member is annoyed with me.” (The good news is I have more time for random strangers. Lucky!)

“Stink was bullied in school. Again.” (Hey, at least he’s not at private school. I’m sending him to public where he gets bullied for free. Win win!)

“Another temp interview today. But I can’t find my Social Security Card. So even if I get hired, I can’t work because I can’t prove I exist.” (If a woman blogs three days a week, but has no official paperwork from the government stating her official numbers, did it actually happen?)

This morning I got up at 5:30am to go running.

Like every morning, I aim to reverse my poverty mindset with one of abundance.

Abundance Mindset

“Today I might not get a perfect job, but I can put myself one step closer to one that will put me one step closer to another which will put me one step closer to my dream job.” (Back in TV! Write that musical! And tap dance! Oh, that last one – I can do that for free at the YMCA beginning on Tuesdays. Who’s ready to “Put another nickel in… in the nickelodeon…!” Aging myself. Moving on. )

“I don’t have to be a perfect mom. THERE IS NO SUCH THING. Stink might tic, but he is confident and strong. Why not concentrate on that?”  (It beats staring at his mom job bowl haircut. Seriously, Andrea, not good. Put the scissors down.)

“I can pay a minimal balance on my cards each month.” (Though what I really want to do is spend MORE money on things I can’t afford. Like a this $125 Cath Kidston backpack. To carry the scripts for the pilot that will be written after my book gets marketed and I finally remember to buy sandwich bags for the kids so they don’t go to school with their sandwiches wrapped in left over gluten free bread bags. Yup, I’m organized!)

www

“I can’t please the world. Apologize, let go and your real friends will remain.” (You know who you are. I love ya!)

Abundance! Grace! Forgiveness!

That’s what I’m aiming for! It’s only 7am! What can go wrong?

7:01

My daughter: “Mooooommmm… my alarm didn’t go off. I have to finish my homework and clean my room and I’ll never be ready for our walk to school.”

Me: (Annoyed as I watch her slowly eat cereal.)”Why didn’t you do it yesterday?”

My daughter: “I was making dinner for the family!”

Me: “That’s your chore for your allowance! You have to prioritize your time better!”

My daughter: (Now really crying) “I’m doing the best I can!”

Me: (Inside voice) “Me, too.” (Outside voice.) “I’ll help.”

But I don’t want to.I want to stew in my head and be hungry for things I can’t change. Poverty Mindset.

My daughter: “Okay.”

7:08

We’re now not walking to school. I can hear my son tick tick ticking in the room next door while I fold sheets for my daughter and she weeps in frustration. I am ready to join her but I don’t.

Because this is life on life’s terms. Abundant living requires abundant acceptance that sometimes things just don’t work as planned.

7:15

Me: “Pip, you know, you don’t have to be perfect. You just need to do what you can do for today. Be kind to yourself.”

Abundance! Grace! Forgiveness!

She’s not buying it. I get it. She will one day. So will I.

Me: “Want a hug?”

Denied.

I walk toward the stairs. I hear Stink in the next room. Tic tic tic.

Me: “Hey, Stink, got a hug for your mom?”

Stink: “Of course!”

He is soon at my side in the hall way, moppy head buried in my shoulder. He’s so tall now, I can practically look him in the eye.

His hug is expansive. Wrapped in his 13 year old arms, I am no longer in a poverty mindset, poor and living in a cluster. I’m clustered in what I strive for most.

Abundance! Grace! Forgivness!

All this by 7:45

I can’t wait to see what 8am brings.

Until next time, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover

 

Uncategorized

To Medicate or Not to Medicate – That is the Question

Andrea Frazer

ddd

Many of you readers know that I’ve struggled with the idea of medication for my kid. He definitely has focus issues. And he’s definitely eccentric.

Fantasy thinking: If I were homeschooling him, his lack of attention would not be an issue. I could adjust his lesson plans to his personality.

Reality thinking: He’s going to public school.

Fantasy thinking: My kid could be so much more “accepted” by the regular herd if his energy and eccentricity were taken down a notch.

Reality thinking: Why should I medicate my kid for anyone else? If HE needs it to survive socially and academically, I’ll do it. But if he is managing, it makes no sense.

It’s a tough call. He is struggling socially with the “in” folk, but he is wildly accepted by the “outside” funk kids. He knows who he is. (Bueller… Ducky… your buddy is available for a hangout at the card shop.)

I wrote something on my Facebook page a month or so back, and I stand by it:

In thinking about Prince’s death, I can’t help but look at it through the perspective of a middle school mother. Prince’s audacity, style and outrageousness is hailed as revolutionary by folk across cultures, lifestyles and ages. He, like Bowie, is considered iconic and to be admired – which he is. It’s truly a loss. But when non-typical kids in middle school dare to do the same, they are often shunned and discarded. It’s an interesting dichotomy…that to be cool… one first must have the courage to be uncool. I would have loved to known Bowie and Prince in Middle School. I have a feeling they would be at my house on Taco Tuesdays.

Here’s to your crazy ones – medicated or not. It’s a tough call, and I support you and your kids either way. We are in this together, Mamas!

11

Until next time, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover

Uncategorized

Letting Kids Fail:When to Let Go?

Andrea Frazer

I don’t know about you guys, but the only thing harder than being in middle school myself is watching my kids go through it. It’s painful enough watching my sweet Martha Stewart daughter deal with kids in the hall throwing curse words. Her Victorian sensibilities are under attack on a daily basis and she’s ready to throw up her parasol in despair.

“It’s just too much, Mom!” she cried the other day, fanning herself with yet another tween novel about pioneers and progress. “This is why I refused to go on the nature trip. Why would I deal with the insanity of boy crazy girls and bad food when I could be at home with a book and a cup of tea in front of a warm cozy fire?”

I wish I were joking.

k

Then there’s my son. He’s about as far a cry from Jane Eyre as Snickers is to junk food. Bring on the hump day tee shirts. Bring on the Pokemon hats with the bright yellow balls and the Pikachu-themed Nintendo DS’s. No skateboards and skinny jeans for this kid. Add in some tics and you’ve got yourself about as far out of the social circle as one can get.

nerd alert

A friend of mine, whose son has Asperger’s, told me that her son really began to shine when she put him in an alternative school.

“My kid was a duck trying to fit into a swan pond,” she told me, with nary a hint of frustration or defeat. (Apparently going through cancer can cure you of a lot of things that once would bring you down. But I digress.) “Now he goes to a school that’s only full of ducks. He can waddle to his heart’s content.”

This thinking seems completely reasonable. Why should a kid suffer for being who he is? I 100% applaud her decision.

But for my kids and my situation, here’s the real sticky mess – the Oreo filling in the center of two very logical crackers: “What if a little bit of suffering is what my kids need to grow and become strong?”

fa

In her book, The Gift of Failure: How the Best Parents Learn to Let Go So Their Children Can Succeed, Jessica Lahey talks about how we, as parents, can let our kids fight their own battles to become self-sufficient adults who don’t crumble at the first sign of adversity.

The Amazon description reads:

“In the tradition of Paul Tough’s How Children Succeed and Wendy Mogel’s The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, this groundbreaking manifesto focuses on the critical school years when parents must learn to allow their children to experience the disappointment and frustration that occur from life’s inevitable problems so that they can grow up to be successful, resilient, and self-reliant adults.

Modern parenting is defined by an unprecedented level of overprotectiveness: parents who rush to school at the whim of a phone call to deliver forgotten assignments, who challenge teachers on report card disappointments, mastermind children’s friendships, and interfere on the playing field. As teacher and writer Jessica Lahey explains, even though these parents see themselves as being highly responsive to their children’s well being, they aren’t giving them the chance to experience failure—or the opportunity to learn to solve their own problems.

Overparenting has the potential to ruin a child’s confidence and undermine their education.”

It’s tough. On one hand, I don’t want to hover. But where is that fine line between letting a kid learn his part to avoid feeling like a victim, and when is a kid truly a victim? If you’re like me, you know only too well your child’s short comings. “I can tell my kid that his new hair do makes him look like a candidate for the short bus, but if that punk with the flat top makes fun of his bowl cut he’s going to hear it from mama’s best side!”

fart
??????????????

 

Bottom line, like this picture of me (taken by said wacky son), life can sometimes feel sideways. It’s tough to stand back and watch my kids get hurt. But when I’m truly being honest – who is getting hurt more? Them or me?

Trying to keep mean children and sadness away from them is like trying to stop the ocean. On good days I surf those choppy waves like a pro. On bad days I go under. But most days, I aim to sit on the beach and remember that my kids have had their swim lessons. It’s time to let them go a bit deeper into the water. And when they need a breath, I’ll be right on the shore – warm towel in hand.

(But not for that mean kid in seventh grade whose name will go unnamed. That kid can be freezing and suck it.)

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover

Uncategorized

“This is Bruce.”

Andrea Frazer

It’s been one of those past two years months where it feels like slogging through molasses in lead boots carrying a bowling ball while nursing would be easier than securing a job I’m truly gifted at…

fw

Marketing a book…

taco truck quote chapter 1

Caring for children….

kids in pool
??????????????

And helping a spouse start a business… 

sss

Then again, after writing that last bit, the first part seems easier.

sss

Which leads me to the real point: how about I just stop?

ssss

I don’t mean stop taking steps toward my goals. But how about I stop trying to manage and control everything? In the end, it’s truly not the result that matters, but the path to the process. I mean, what’s the point of getting that awesome gig or landing a T.E.D. talk if, at the end of the day, I’ve been a joyless, nagging, cranky, petulant and often worry filled hot mess? (Not that I’m ever one of those adjectives. Sheesh!)

It seems to me, crazy as this might sound, that taking life on life’s terms is the way to go.

Less judgement, not just of others, but of me.

Less working.

More playing.

rain

Less fretting.

More laughing.

Less me.

More God.

I once heard that “expectations” can be translated as “unborn resentments.” I was thinking about that while in line at Trader Joe’s. I had not expected to be, at 46, thinking about whether it’s truly a good plan to spend $24 instead of $20 on a bag full of mini tacos, cole slaw, gluten free bread and some cereal. I was supposed to be a working TV writer, don’t you know! (Or at least have a career writing jingles or Shel Silverstein poem books!)

But there I was with my re-usable shopping bag. On a budget, but determined to have joy anyway. Because, well, joy does not conform to budget. Joy looks at budget and says, “Ha, ha ha! I fart on you, silly money constraints! I will enjoy my day, go back for a second cup of sample coffee, and enjoy a gluten-filled gnocci taster since my sweet ticker is not here to watch me delight in the twitch inducing pasta morsels!”

I will chat with the cashier.

I will ask about her day.

And then I will explain to her that my shark backpack is not a shark after all but an Orca.

Named Bruce.

bruce

And when she laughs and says, “That’s awesome!” I will laugh, too. Because, in the end, if I really had to choose between a crud load of cash and a true connection with another human being in the grocery store line, I’d choose the second option every time.

Even if my purse threatens to swallow her whole. (Bruce… he’s a cheeky accessory to say the least.)

Until next time, may:

God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.

Love,

Andrea

PS: I highly recommend getting a mammal shaped pocketbook. It can transform your day. Add in some Victoria floral designed fayx Doc Martins and a “I Love My Crazy Friends” tee shirt and your whole week will improve just by getting dressed!

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover

 

Uncategorized

Is Your Kid Joyful or Feral? It’s a Fine Line!

Andrea Frazer

 

It’s Saturday. I slept until 10am – a rarity for this tired mama.

1

I just lingered under the covers until I felt like shuffling toward the kitchen for a lovely cup of Starbucks in my favorite mug. It was, dare I say, peaceful? Which of course could only mean one thing:

There would be hell to pay.

My son was found hunched over a video screen with his buddy, Tyler.

Me: “Stink, how long have you been on that thing? Be honest.”

Him: “About one hour.”

111

Me: (Attempting to be calm.) “Really? Because isn’t one of your friends coming over at 1 to play with you?”

Him: “No.”

Me: Sigh of relief.

Him: “Two more are coming. Holden and Adrian.”

3

Me: (Blood now rising like hot air balloon…. in Hades.) “If you only get two hours/day on the computer (picture Patience with Control Issues rising) and you’re now playing for one hour (insert the image of a harpie on steriods) then do you mean to tell me you’re only going to play for one hour when your buddies come over?”

Him: (Instantly shutting down the screen) “Sorry, Mom.”

Me: (Determined not to go into a full on lecture. Going into a full on lecture.) 2

“You are 13! Thirteen! I don’t want to micromanage you, dude, but apparently I’m going to have to because if I can’t trust you to be responsible with your gaming limits then clearly I can’t trust you in the future when you are driving and going to work… if you even qualify for anything besides playing Mario Cart… and really is this what I am going to have to do deal with first thing in the morning FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE?”

Him: (Calm as a cucumber) “No, Mom. Just for today.”

Me: (Taking a deep breath) “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry I over reacted.”

Him: (Hugging me) “It’s okay.” (Then) “To make it up to me, can I have a few more minutes?”

Con artist.

I could have gone loco. (Like just yesterday, when I had the grand idea that the way to stop an arguing ADHD teenager is to put my hands on his mouth and see if it would block the noise from coming through the pie hole. Um, note: That totally doesn’t work.)

1

 

Instead, that’s when I took the high road. I put my arms around him, took a deep breath, told him how much I loved him, and invited him into a moment of prayer to bond and connect with our Lord, Jesus then reached my long arms down and pinched his butt.

He retaliated by grabbing a bag of gluten free bread and smacking me on the side of the noggin.

GAME. ON. (And this one didn’t require a plug.)

The moral of the story: Sometimes turning a potentially explosive moment into a joyful one can keep you from killing your offspring.

Underlying points of the moral of the story: I can be controlling sometimes. The kid is not a baby. I don’t need to be policing his every move.

The flip side of my controlling tendencies: If I don’t teach him consequences and boundaries, who will? And even more to the point (yes, I over think… like you don’t, readers?) if I don’t keep my anger in check, what’s the point of keeping him off the games in the first place if he’s only going to deal with a crazy mother who screams at him first thing in the morning with bad hair and no caffeine in her pre-menopause body GOD HELP US ALL!!!?

No, as Farmer Stacey always reminds me, relationship trumps being right.

This kid will be out of my house of my house (idealistically) in five years. While I want him to grow into a man of discipline and respect, I want him to remember being a boy who experienced silliness, laughter and love.

For me, this area is difficult, because I don’t always have the most boundaries with myself.

111

I don’t care about time restraints and house tasks and being on time for important meetings (Dear God, please let me work on my time issues) as much as I value chatting up the random shopper at Trader Joes about her guinea pig business and the pros and cons of fresh tumeric vs. cholesterol meds. If only I could be paid for being a chatty Kathy human being instead of a warehouse worker!  Life would be perfect! (Oh yeah, I scored the perfect job for me! More to come!)

111

How about you, mamas?

Where is your happy balance in this parenting deal? How do you find the balance between a kid who is joyful and a kid who is feral?

The line is shaky, is it not? (Especially when you have a kid like mine.)

1

Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover

 

 

Uncategorized

Got Hope? Live Outside the Box! (The Hope Box, That Is)

Andrea Frazer

 

the ocean

I woke up yesterday to more clothes in my living room than Trump has haters. The reason? My kids had the duty on Sunday of moving every stitch of them from my closet upstairs to the couch to make room for my daughter to move her clothes into her soon to be “new” bedroom. This would not be a problem except I was now faced with the task of putting 1000 pieces of crap into a vintage armoire that holds – at best – 100 pieces.

blog 3

I could, of course, do what most normal people would do and get rid of some items. But that would be a tragedy. First, there was my mother’s size 11 gold wedding shoes from 1969. They will never fit me, but I take such great joy knowing that she once wore these sparkly clod hoppers with a bright pink wedding dress. Oh, that dress? I have that, too.

blog 4

And then there’s my nana’s size 2 navy pumps. I’ll never fit in those either, but they make me smile. How did such a tall granddaughter come through her genetic line?

Add in the wool overcoats lined in bright plumages of pink and purple Victorian roses… the silk panda scarf… the “I Love My Crazy Friends” tee shirt…the XL puff skirt to wear under a dress I don’t have and the mis-matched China tea cups picked up from a thrift store for $1.99 each.

Yup, that’s a whole lot of “crap”. And yet, that crap fertilizes my heart and keeps it blooming. Running my fingers through the fabric reminds me that it’s okay to slow down just a bit and just enjoy.

When I was 11, I’d spend hours sitting on the floor of my bedroom,  sifting through my hope chest. In it I’d place all the trinkets I hoped to use in my future life of awesome sauce: handkerchiefs, tea sets, lavish picture frames or art books.

While I’m not 11 anymore, there’s still a girl inside the grownup who longs for the stillness of dreaming. And so, rather than just shove all of my items in an over sized bag and donate it to the local Good Will in impulsive “THIS HAS TO GO NOW” fashion, I took one section at a time. Hats in one bag and belts in another. Those would go at the bottom of the closet until hooks were purchased.

Winter stuff went in the garage. That would go in the attic until I could afford adequate outdoor storage to access it more easily.

Mom’s wedding dress, grandma’s sweater and all the shoes – they would be placed in a box in the attic until shelves were made in my new room to store them.

Underwear and bras – side table of the bed.

Tee shirts, pjs and pants – TV room! Cause where else but a 3-drawer plastic Target bin would my every day clothes go? I would not stress. I would find a better spot another day.

Everything else went in the armoire or in a bag to donate.

The result of this process was nothing other than good old fashioned intention – that intention being that while I want to honor my needs at this time, I’m passing the baton to another 11 year old who has hopes and dreams. (Out with my salmon, in with her pink!)

blog 1

This 11 year old loves music and singing and art. She loves tea cups and lace and books.

She dreams of a corner nook to sketch with her stuffed animals and a roll top desk to correspond with her Aunt MaryAnne (whose name she still writes as “Anut MaryAnne… who am I to argue?). No one understands dreams and goals this better than I, and so accommodations will be made. Yes, there will even be space for a bright pink carousel horse named “Pink DiMayo” because who doesn’t need such an animal in their Victorian Palace?

blog 5.JPG

I might not have a hope chest anymore, but when I look at my daughter’s face, I have more joy than can ever be housed in a cedar box.

And that, my friends, makes living in my new tiny box of a bedroom worth every single bit of lost space.

One more

(my little Pip, performing as Wendy in Peter Pan a few weeks back. She was radiant if I do say so myself!)

What about you?

What do you dream of? What makes your heart sing?

Until next time, May God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, the courage to change the tics you can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

My book is available on Amazon. Follow me on Twitter@AndreaFrazerWrites or on FB. 

book cover