Today I filled in the last grade of my school memories book. I feel so old. But as I flipped through its pages I was reminded of the things about me that changed, and the things that stayed exactly the same. It was like taking a mini journey through some of the most important times of my life thus far. Each year has some good memories, and each year has some not so good memories. Let's take a look at where the journey begins.
Kindergarten: In a nutshell I was a nerd. Big round glasses and short statured, wearing a pair of super classy overalls. haha. I lived a pretty care-free life. I watched Arthur, Cut and Paste, and ate pizza pops (all of which I still occasionally do) We went on a field trip to the Besborough Hotel. Ironically, part of my graduation takes place in the exact same hotel.
Grade 1: I guess I was your average first grader. I still had the glasses, and was missing a front tooth. I had lots of friends and still loved Pizza Pops. What struck me the most when looking back on this page was how I viewed myself. I loved myself. I had no feelings of self-hatred and I had never struggled with the infamous body image that every teenage girl does. I was so innocent. I was learning, and I suppose you could say, preparing myself for the rest of my life.
Grade 4: This is the year when I begin to see my true character developing. I loved reading, writing and my precious piano. I excelled in english and loved laughing. I noted that my best friends in this grade are the same best friends that I have in the 12th grade, although we were hardly friends for the 8 years in between.
Grade 5: This year is this year when I began to conform to the world. I think that it's something every child does at some point, but I find that it seems hardly worth it. If only I had spent those precious middle school years concentrating on becoming who I want to be, and not who everyone else wanted me to be.
Grade 6: This was my gymnastics year. I can remember having so much self-confidence in myself. I never more beautiful than when I was spinning, flipping or balancing. It was my passion and it made me happy. I didn't care if I didn't achieve perfection, I simply desired to make myself happy.
Grade 7: The year where everything changed. This was the year when I had to start fresh. Not because I changed schools or moved, but because I realized that my childhood was slipping away from me, faster than I wanted it to. Part of me wanted to grow up, to date, to graduate, to work. But I still wanted to run home to my mom and give her a big hug. Finding true friends was overwhelming and painful. But looking back I realize that despite how painful this year was, it developed so much character and emotions that have carried me through much harder times.
Grade 8: This is the year when I had a best friend again. After a difficult year I loved having someone to have sleepovers with, to talk to and to laugh with. I found joy in the smallest of things. I was so happy. With this joy came boldness. I began to shed my shell and open up to people. It was a good year.
Grade 9: This year can be grouped with the 7th grade as my best friend moved half way across the world I had never had to say good-bye to anyone before she left and it was so hard for me. I remember the last time I saw her and hugged her. I said good-bye and was forced to go back to school without a best friend. She's moving back here in a month. I wonder if our friendship will pick up where it left off, or if we've both changed too much to rekindle a relationship on the same level it used to be at.
Grade 12: Here I am. This is me. I've developed a feisty character, but I'm still quiet. I'm still shorter than most people in my class and I still eat pizza pops. I've got best friends, favourite teachers and very special people in my life. My life goals continue to change because I"m still indecisive. I've loved. I've laughed. I've lived. I've learned. And as I'm on the verge of jumping from the safety of my childhood nest look back at all that school has taught me. It has been so much more than adding and dividing or reading and writing. It's the other bits and pieces that have moulded me and shaped me into a character that will carry me beyond my childhood and into the rest of my life.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Honey, Please Don't Grow
When I was a baby, just learning to walk, I clung desperately to my mothers arms, too afraid to let go. In her arm's I was safe, I could not fall and hurt myself, I could not fail, I could not disappoint her by toppling over into a heap of baby on the carpet. But there came a point when I had to depend on my own two feet and let go.
Going to school was an adventure. Everything began to change. I thought kindergarten was excellent because I got to paint, draw, play on the playground and invite lots of friends over to birthday parties. I remember eagerly running down the street to the school bus while holding my best friends hand. (Except of course on those early summer days when the ground was dry as a bone and my mother would make me wear rubber boots and finger mittens...than i wasn't so happy). But I was growing up. I spent 5 days a week at school, away from my family. I started to become independent and feisty, even at a young age. But my mom and dad were always there to keep me grounded. And by grounded I mean those long summer evenings spent in my bedroom sulking whilst I heard my friends playing outside. It was those days when I craved the most to be an adult. To listen to no one, to have no one hold me back and tell me what was best. I just wanted to Grow Up.
And grow up I did. As painfully slow as it often seemed, over the years I began to gain the independence I so greatly desired. Cooking Kraft Dinner without an adult present in the kitchen, going for bike rides without telling anyone (which always ended up getting me in trouble by the way), or shopping for my own clothes. I was determined to grow up. At first my endeavours ended up in failure. Messy kitchens that resulted in punishments, the shameful ride home from the park in the family car because you stayed out too late and weren't allowed to bike back home in the dark, and those darn extra-large shirts that you 'forgot' to try on in the store. I remember how frustrating it was. How stuck I felt. I thought I was ready to let go of my dependance on my family. But I wasn't. Not yet.
I remember when suddenly life became real. Almost a little too real. The realization that I was finally becoming an adult wasn't nearly as pleasant as I had hoped. I thought that growing up meant I could stay up late and eat at McDonalds everyday for lunch. It didn't take me long to realize that no bedtime meant no sleep. I began to regret those nights when I was young and would keep my parents up all night because I wasn't tired and could sleep all morning. Because now I was on the other end of things. Now I was the one slowly drifting off to sleep at 1 am, only to be awoken 5 hours later to an alarm that did not sound like mom's voice and did not tickle my feet or find me clothes to wear or brush my hair for me. If I'm tired, I wake up anyways, if I don't feel like going to work, I get dressed and drag my butt over there anyways and earn the money that I need to pay for all of the things that my parents used to buy for me. Back when my only concern was the boys at school chasing me with earthworms. Now I have to concern myself with phone bills, car payments, buying deoderant BEFORE I run out of it completely, finishing my homework without being prompted, keeping track of curfews, going to the doctor alone, making appointments, remembering appointments, feeding the cat, feeding myself.
Life is getting so real for me now and some days I can't help but imagine that I'm three years old again.That I don't have any stress or worries. That I'm safe in my mommy's arms and that I don't have to pretend to be brave. I used to want nothing more than to grow up, but now that it's happening I'm beginning to realize that with greater independence comes greater responsibility. Even though sometimes I just want to hide in the clothing racks at work until all of the people leave and when I have those mornings when I want to lie in my bed all day instead of waking up for school, I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. So ready or not, here I grow.
Going to school was an adventure. Everything began to change. I thought kindergarten was excellent because I got to paint, draw, play on the playground and invite lots of friends over to birthday parties. I remember eagerly running down the street to the school bus while holding my best friends hand. (Except of course on those early summer days when the ground was dry as a bone and my mother would make me wear rubber boots and finger mittens...than i wasn't so happy). But I was growing up. I spent 5 days a week at school, away from my family. I started to become independent and feisty, even at a young age. But my mom and dad were always there to keep me grounded. And by grounded I mean those long summer evenings spent in my bedroom sulking whilst I heard my friends playing outside. It was those days when I craved the most to be an adult. To listen to no one, to have no one hold me back and tell me what was best. I just wanted to Grow Up.
And grow up I did. As painfully slow as it often seemed, over the years I began to gain the independence I so greatly desired. Cooking Kraft Dinner without an adult present in the kitchen, going for bike rides without telling anyone (which always ended up getting me in trouble by the way), or shopping for my own clothes. I was determined to grow up. At first my endeavours ended up in failure. Messy kitchens that resulted in punishments, the shameful ride home from the park in the family car because you stayed out too late and weren't allowed to bike back home in the dark, and those darn extra-large shirts that you 'forgot' to try on in the store. I remember how frustrating it was. How stuck I felt. I thought I was ready to let go of my dependance on my family. But I wasn't. Not yet.
I remember when suddenly life became real. Almost a little too real. The realization that I was finally becoming an adult wasn't nearly as pleasant as I had hoped. I thought that growing up meant I could stay up late and eat at McDonalds everyday for lunch. It didn't take me long to realize that no bedtime meant no sleep. I began to regret those nights when I was young and would keep my parents up all night because I wasn't tired and could sleep all morning. Because now I was on the other end of things. Now I was the one slowly drifting off to sleep at 1 am, only to be awoken 5 hours later to an alarm that did not sound like mom's voice and did not tickle my feet or find me clothes to wear or brush my hair for me. If I'm tired, I wake up anyways, if I don't feel like going to work, I get dressed and drag my butt over there anyways and earn the money that I need to pay for all of the things that my parents used to buy for me. Back when my only concern was the boys at school chasing me with earthworms. Now I have to concern myself with phone bills, car payments, buying deoderant BEFORE I run out of it completely, finishing my homework without being prompted, keeping track of curfews, going to the doctor alone, making appointments, remembering appointments, feeding the cat, feeding myself.
Life is getting so real for me now and some days I can't help but imagine that I'm three years old again.That I don't have any stress or worries. That I'm safe in my mommy's arms and that I don't have to pretend to be brave. I used to want nothing more than to grow up, but now that it's happening I'm beginning to realize that with greater independence comes greater responsibility. Even though sometimes I just want to hide in the clothing racks at work until all of the people leave and when I have those mornings when I want to lie in my bed all day instead of waking up for school, I have to remind myself that this is what I wanted. This is what I asked for. So ready or not, here I grow.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Letting Go
Holding Hands. We all do it, and I find that people tend to think that holding hands is just holding hands, but it's not. Holding hands can have so many different meanings.
The first thing that comes to mind when pondering hand holding is the basic relationship clasp. This is when a boy and a girl (or a man and a woman) hold hands. It is a form of affection or romance. Did you know that without realizing it, when this group of people hold hands, the males hand usually crosses in front of the females as a way of showing protection? That's just a lil' something that I learned in psychology class.
A form of hand holding that we've all experienced before is the death grip between a mother and her child while shopping at Wal-mart. This form of touch is used soley as a defense mechanism. I don't know about you, but if I was ever a child abductor, I would definitely stay away from and never come between the hands of a mother and her baby.
The best friend clutch is a very sweet but sort of controversial public display of affection. To me it says that they are best friends forever, but to some it's a matter of them being just friends or...a few bends short of a straight ruler. This is for the brave of heart only.
The hand to tail. Only the cat lovers will understand the power of this display of affection between a human and their furry friend. Since their four paws are usually planted firmly on the ground, the tail is a convienient replacement when showing your kitty some lovin'. Those who are more comfortable with their precious may even use the tail as a common site for planting little kisses when the face is just to yucky.
So as you can see, holding hands is so important. It connects two bodies in a way that is not intrusive or inappropriate, but instead is able to send subtle messages to one another. "I love you" or "I missed you" or "Don't go". But as important as holding hands is, there will always come a time when you have to let go. By letting go, I don't believe that you are really leaving them behind. Instead, by letting go you are saying, "I trust you".
When a boy lets go of a girls hand, he is trusting that she will come back to him. When a mother lets go of her child, she gives them the ultimate gift of freedom by trusting them to move on with their life. When an owner lets go of their cat's tail...well it's probably because the cat bit and scratched their way to freedom...but I think you get the point. There will always be a time to hold on, but make sure that, when the time is right, you let go.
The first thing that comes to mind when pondering hand holding is the basic relationship clasp. This is when a boy and a girl (or a man and a woman) hold hands. It is a form of affection or romance. Did you know that without realizing it, when this group of people hold hands, the males hand usually crosses in front of the females as a way of showing protection? That's just a lil' something that I learned in psychology class.
A form of hand holding that we've all experienced before is the death grip between a mother and her child while shopping at Wal-mart. This form of touch is used soley as a defense mechanism. I don't know about you, but if I was ever a child abductor, I would definitely stay away from and never come between the hands of a mother and her baby.
The best friend clutch is a very sweet but sort of controversial public display of affection. To me it says that they are best friends forever, but to some it's a matter of them being just friends or...a few bends short of a straight ruler. This is for the brave of heart only.
The hand to tail. Only the cat lovers will understand the power of this display of affection between a human and their furry friend. Since their four paws are usually planted firmly on the ground, the tail is a convienient replacement when showing your kitty some lovin'. Those who are more comfortable with their precious may even use the tail as a common site for planting little kisses when the face is just to yucky.
So as you can see, holding hands is so important. It connects two bodies in a way that is not intrusive or inappropriate, but instead is able to send subtle messages to one another. "I love you" or "I missed you" or "Don't go". But as important as holding hands is, there will always come a time when you have to let go. By letting go, I don't believe that you are really leaving them behind. Instead, by letting go you are saying, "I trust you".
When a boy lets go of a girls hand, he is trusting that she will come back to him. When a mother lets go of her child, she gives them the ultimate gift of freedom by trusting them to move on with their life. When an owner lets go of their cat's tail...well it's probably because the cat bit and scratched their way to freedom...but I think you get the point. There will always be a time to hold on, but make sure that, when the time is right, you let go.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Finishing What You Start
I am a procrastinator. Some people might call me lazy, and occasionally that is true, but the difference between procrastinating and being lazy is that procrastinators have good intentions. I have so many things that I want to do, but when it comes down to it, I just don't feel like finishing the particular project.
For example, I received, for my tenth birthday a latch hook kit. It has this adorable picture of Winnie The Pooh on it and the box said that it was a "quick and easy kids project". Ha! I spent 5 years trying to finish that thing. I put blood sweat and tears into that little picture, and it is half finished. In fact, last year I put it into a box and tried to forget about it completely because, even if I did finish it, I would have no use for it because, as a 16 year old, I feel that having a picture of Winnie The Pooh on my wall might attract the wrong crowd to my bedroom. But, if I had finished the picture back when I was ten, than I could have spent a couple years displaying Mr. Pooh and it would have been completely appropriate and I would have felt utterly satisfied.
I know that example might be a little trivial because, not everyone is crafty and a lot of people wouldn't even start something along the lines of that, and it makes sense. Why should I even start a project if I know I won't finish it? You see, if I had never started that cross-stitch table runner two years ago I could have saved myself 15 bucks, 25 hours and 3 drops of blood and it sometimes makes me wish I hadn't started a lot of things...Sewing that purse, crocheting that scarf, organizing my sock drawer, listening to all of the songs on my i-pod in one go, reading all of Shakespeares work, painting a bag of seashells, filling a doodle pad completely with drawings of people, making a scrapbook. These are all things that I "wasted" my time on. I mean, If I had never began to crochet that scarf I could have checked my facebook...or watched 4 episodes of CSI, or...something. But...I guess I know how to crochet...and I know how to embroider, and I guess I understand a little bit of Shakespeare, and I found a match for one of my lonely socks.
So...did I really waste my time? I mean, yeah I didn't finish any of those projects, but I still enjoyed them while they lasted. They weren't really pointless because while I was doing those things i was learning, and having fun and being productive. Of course finishing what you start is a good thing to do, but if you are a procrastinator, don't let not finishing stop you from starting.
For example, I received, for my tenth birthday a latch hook kit. It has this adorable picture of Winnie The Pooh on it and the box said that it was a "quick and easy kids project". Ha! I spent 5 years trying to finish that thing. I put blood sweat and tears into that little picture, and it is half finished. In fact, last year I put it into a box and tried to forget about it completely because, even if I did finish it, I would have no use for it because, as a 16 year old, I feel that having a picture of Winnie The Pooh on my wall might attract the wrong crowd to my bedroom. But, if I had finished the picture back when I was ten, than I could have spent a couple years displaying Mr. Pooh and it would have been completely appropriate and I would have felt utterly satisfied.
I know that example might be a little trivial because, not everyone is crafty and a lot of people wouldn't even start something along the lines of that, and it makes sense. Why should I even start a project if I know I won't finish it? You see, if I had never started that cross-stitch table runner two years ago I could have saved myself 15 bucks, 25 hours and 3 drops of blood and it sometimes makes me wish I hadn't started a lot of things...Sewing that purse, crocheting that scarf, organizing my sock drawer, listening to all of the songs on my i-pod in one go, reading all of Shakespeares work, painting a bag of seashells, filling a doodle pad completely with drawings of people, making a scrapbook. These are all things that I "wasted" my time on. I mean, If I had never began to crochet that scarf I could have checked my facebook...or watched 4 episodes of CSI, or...something. But...I guess I know how to crochet...and I know how to embroider, and I guess I understand a little bit of Shakespeare, and I found a match for one of my lonely socks.
So...did I really waste my time? I mean, yeah I didn't finish any of those projects, but I still enjoyed them while they lasted. They weren't really pointless because while I was doing those things i was learning, and having fun and being productive. Of course finishing what you start is a good thing to do, but if you are a procrastinator, don't let not finishing stop you from starting.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Flaws and Quirks
Flaws and Quirks. Everyone has them, but because we live in such a judgemental world everyone tries to hide them and become "Plastic". I will though admit that I have done my fair share of plasticizing. I find it hard to embrace the things that make me unique and different. But at the same time, I realize that everyone has things that might be kind of weird because, after all, normal is simply the average of weird. Another thing that I have learned in all of the 16 years of my life is that, especially if you are me, sometimes the best way to handle something that makes you uncomfortable is to risk embarrassing yourself and just tell the truth. Here are my flaws and quirks.
-I have a stutter. It's just a little one, but I am constantly tripping over my words, and I do a lot of t-time or th-there or s-stop. It drives me nuts, but it's kind of a part of me.
-I daydream. Without warning. I constantly am missing assignments and important lessons in class because without realizing it I will daydream for 5-10 minutes. It can put me in a bit of a rough spot sometimes, but that is where a lot of my creativity comes from.
-I have an insatiable desire to wear clothes that my grandma wore when she was my age (You know, those homemade dresses and skirts that make everyone look like they have the same body type?) Well I am privileged enough to own a couple of said garments and I often wish that the fashion industry was not so advanced and that everyone still wore those clothes. :D
-My favorite music comes from the 90's. ABBA, Beach Boys, Taco etc. Hey! They're classics!
-I love teddy bears. I always have. There is something about a soft plush animal that you can squeeze to death that appeals to me.
-I have an unexplainable need to explain myself everytime I say something. This results in me talking...a lot.
-I have worn glasses since I was four and until grade 9 my mother helped me pick out my glasses. Mommy, I love you, but those round as a circle glasses pain me.
-I have a mental music video for almost every song on my i-pod because I can't just listen to music, I have to do something...So I choereograph.
Since I think you get the point I will wrap this up. In short, everyone has flaws and everyone is weird, but we should learn to embrace them. I wouldn't be myself if I didn't listen to ABBA or if I didn't stutter or daydream. Those are things that I have learned or have to learn to embrace. So next time you find yourself critisizing yourself, immediately think of how that fault has shaped you, and how it makes you special. :D
-I have a stutter. It's just a little one, but I am constantly tripping over my words, and I do a lot of t-time or th-there or s-stop. It drives me nuts, but it's kind of a part of me.
-I daydream. Without warning. I constantly am missing assignments and important lessons in class because without realizing it I will daydream for 5-10 minutes. It can put me in a bit of a rough spot sometimes, but that is where a lot of my creativity comes from.
-I have an insatiable desire to wear clothes that my grandma wore when she was my age (You know, those homemade dresses and skirts that make everyone look like they have the same body type?) Well I am privileged enough to own a couple of said garments and I often wish that the fashion industry was not so advanced and that everyone still wore those clothes. :D
-My favorite music comes from the 90's. ABBA, Beach Boys, Taco etc. Hey! They're classics!
-I love teddy bears. I always have. There is something about a soft plush animal that you can squeeze to death that appeals to me.
-I have an unexplainable need to explain myself everytime I say something. This results in me talking...a lot.
-I have worn glasses since I was four and until grade 9 my mother helped me pick out my glasses. Mommy, I love you, but those round as a circle glasses pain me.
-I have a mental music video for almost every song on my i-pod because I can't just listen to music, I have to do something...So I choereograph.
Since I think you get the point I will wrap this up. In short, everyone has flaws and everyone is weird, but we should learn to embrace them. I wouldn't be myself if I didn't listen to ABBA or if I didn't stutter or daydream. Those are things that I have learned or have to learn to embrace. So next time you find yourself critisizing yourself, immediately think of how that fault has shaped you, and how it makes you special. :D
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Cupcakes For My Soul
I have decided that this coming week will be very stressful. Among other things I am performing a drama called "What A Character" which is actually a series of skits that my school drama class is putting on. I am definitely a drama queen and I love acting, but there is something about performances that make me just a little bit stressed. Our first of three performances was this morning and it went...okay. You can never predict how a drama will turn out. Sometimes people forget their lines, other times your props just won't cooperate and other times yet you stumble over your own feet, nearly causing a catastrophe (believe me, I speak from experience). Today's mistake involved a cupcake, a spotlight and one unsuspecting victim.(Okay, so she was totally expecting it...but it was still surprising).
One of my skits is called 'Cupcake For Your Soul'. I won't go into any plot details, but I will tell you that one part requires me to throw chocolate cupcakes across the stage and up a ladder to a young lady who does not want them. The first problem is the "across the stage" part. I have awful aim, so while attempting to throw cupcakes I managed to hit everything except the target. I hit the wall behind her, I threw one backstage and I think I even hit the wrong actor! But the one moment that I remember most clearly is when I was most into my cupcake throwing. I need you to imagine this entire sequence in slow motion though, because that is exactly how I saw it. So I reach onto the tray, without really looking and feel my fingernails dig into a cupcake, and by dig I mean literally. I glanced down and saw that my fingers were buried in chocolatey cakiness. Now this wouldnt' be that bad...IF the rest of the throw had gone smoothly, but NO. I watched almost in horror as my hand extended behind my head. For those of you who have never participated in the art of cupcake throwing, it is commonly practiced, and just plain curteous to throw your cupcakes underhanded. And here I was, my hand OVER my head. It's at this point in time when I realize that there is no going back and I cross my fingers and hope for the best. I feel my fingers dislodge from the misshapen cupcake and I watch in silent horror as the cupcake whizzes past the targets head, scarecly missing it, and with the speed of a thousand cats, continues on to the wall behind her. I see the cupcake squish against the wall and fall to the floor......And then it was finished. I ended the sequence with an out of character gasp and wiping my greasy fingers on my pants and continuing on.
The stupid thing about this was, that while I was beating myself up for that ridiculus overhand throw, no one else really noticed. I found myself looking around self conciously while everyone else was chuckling and having a good time. And, like always, it got me thinking and I realized this. While everyone else was having fun acting and being a part of something that brought joy to others, I was meekly peering around, worried that I might have made a fool of myself and that people might think less highly of me because of it. I missed out on a good time because I was a little too concerned about myself. I later realized that no one even noticed my overhand throw, and no one thought any differently of me at all. So my challenge to you is this: The next time you make a fool of yourself, don't get too caught up in it. Relax and think rationally, because in the whole scheme of things, a poor arm and a flapjack cupcake should really be something that you should be able to laugh about.
One of my skits is called 'Cupcake For Your Soul'. I won't go into any plot details, but I will tell you that one part requires me to throw chocolate cupcakes across the stage and up a ladder to a young lady who does not want them. The first problem is the "across the stage" part. I have awful aim, so while attempting to throw cupcakes I managed to hit everything except the target. I hit the wall behind her, I threw one backstage and I think I even hit the wrong actor! But the one moment that I remember most clearly is when I was most into my cupcake throwing. I need you to imagine this entire sequence in slow motion though, because that is exactly how I saw it. So I reach onto the tray, without really looking and feel my fingernails dig into a cupcake, and by dig I mean literally. I glanced down and saw that my fingers were buried in chocolatey cakiness. Now this wouldnt' be that bad...IF the rest of the throw had gone smoothly, but NO. I watched almost in horror as my hand extended behind my head. For those of you who have never participated in the art of cupcake throwing, it is commonly practiced, and just plain curteous to throw your cupcakes underhanded. And here I was, my hand OVER my head. It's at this point in time when I realize that there is no going back and I cross my fingers and hope for the best. I feel my fingers dislodge from the misshapen cupcake and I watch in silent horror as the cupcake whizzes past the targets head, scarecly missing it, and with the speed of a thousand cats, continues on to the wall behind her. I see the cupcake squish against the wall and fall to the floor......And then it was finished. I ended the sequence with an out of character gasp and wiping my greasy fingers on my pants and continuing on.
The stupid thing about this was, that while I was beating myself up for that ridiculus overhand throw, no one else really noticed. I found myself looking around self conciously while everyone else was chuckling and having a good time. And, like always, it got me thinking and I realized this. While everyone else was having fun acting and being a part of something that brought joy to others, I was meekly peering around, worried that I might have made a fool of myself and that people might think less highly of me because of it. I missed out on a good time because I was a little too concerned about myself. I later realized that no one even noticed my overhand throw, and no one thought any differently of me at all. So my challenge to you is this: The next time you make a fool of yourself, don't get too caught up in it. Relax and think rationally, because in the whole scheme of things, a poor arm and a flapjack cupcake should really be something that you should be able to laugh about.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Being Boss
Every Tuesday after school I baby-sit for my neighbors kids. There's three of them. Today was a particularily nice Tuesday so I put them all in rubber boots and shipped them outside. They immediately gravitated towards this giant mud puddle in the middle of the yard. They were very careful not to splash and were terribly concerned about getting stuck in the mud. Needless to say, they very quickly stopped playing in the puddle. They decided to show me their new sandbox. Ever since I was little I have absolutely loved sandboxes so the sight of heaps and heaps of sand contained in a wooden box made me smile. I was suddenly quite excited to begin playing in the sand. But first they had to show me all of their creations which to me looked like a bunch of sporatically placed holes, but to them were volcanoes and campfires. They made sure that I would not wreck them. They took up most of the sandbox, but I managed to find a little corner. I began by packing sand into those little containers that are shaped like tractors and feet and stuff and made a whole city of shapes. I very quickly filled my alloted space so, like the kid I am, I decided to destroy them. I found much pleasure in squishing them and feeling the sand run between my fingers. I may be a kid at heart, but I am still a baby-sitter, so I naturally looked up to see what the kids were doing.
I discovered that they had organized a little construction site. It consisted of two kids digging holes, and one sitting in a toy car and chisling at a rock with an old screw. I decided that I would join in and picked up a tiny toy spade and began digging. As soon as they saw me digging it was almost as if the game had truly started. The little girl chirped, "Let's play work!" and then in her deepest manliest voice, "I'm the boss, get to work!" Her older brother quickly proceeded to tell her that he was actually the boss because he was bigger than her. The little girl reluctantly agreed and started to work. I smiled at their organization and continued to dig. At this point I had created a fairly deep hole and I could see the young girl constantly looking over at it. All of a sudden she was standing right over me and spoke using her big boss voice and said, "Keep digging, if you don't work right you will go to jail!" Now I have been baby-sitting these kids long enough to know that any game that involves a jail ALWAYS means that there will be tears and hitting and screaming. Since I wanted to avoid this at all costs I quickly started digging faster. The oldest boy, our boss, quickly let me and his sister know that HE was the boss. The little girl lowered her head and said, "Oh yeah" She had just been reminded that she was not in control of this game, she could just do as she was told. As the game continued she kept trying to be the boss and trying to be in control, but each time her brother reminded her that she was not the boss.
I can't help but put myself in the position of the little girl who kept wanting to be boss. I always find myself trying to control everything. I like to be the leader and I like to have things go my way. What I especially struggle with is letting God be my boss. I often find myself thinking, "God, I know you're in control and all, but I think it would be best if you give me this RIGHT now" or "God, I know you're the boss, but for tonight I am going to be my own boss and I am going to to everything my way." For a lot of people being your own boss is what seems right to you. I understand that, but for me I am a christian and I believe that God is my father and I believe that He always knows what's best for me. From experience I have learned that as soon as I try to take control, everything goes awry and everything falls apart. What I have also learned is that everytime I try to take control, God always gently reminds me that He is boss and He knows whats best because He is bigger than me. Just like the kids I baby-sit for.
Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend (Yes, as a matter of fact a 16 year old CAN have an important meeting) So I must cut my thought life short, but I do hope this gives you something to think about. Let God be in control of your life...Or, in the famous words of Carrie Underwood, let Jesus take the wheel!
I discovered that they had organized a little construction site. It consisted of two kids digging holes, and one sitting in a toy car and chisling at a rock with an old screw. I decided that I would join in and picked up a tiny toy spade and began digging. As soon as they saw me digging it was almost as if the game had truly started. The little girl chirped, "Let's play work!" and then in her deepest manliest voice, "I'm the boss, get to work!" Her older brother quickly proceeded to tell her that he was actually the boss because he was bigger than her. The little girl reluctantly agreed and started to work. I smiled at their organization and continued to dig. At this point I had created a fairly deep hole and I could see the young girl constantly looking over at it. All of a sudden she was standing right over me and spoke using her big boss voice and said, "Keep digging, if you don't work right you will go to jail!" Now I have been baby-sitting these kids long enough to know that any game that involves a jail ALWAYS means that there will be tears and hitting and screaming. Since I wanted to avoid this at all costs I quickly started digging faster. The oldest boy, our boss, quickly let me and his sister know that HE was the boss. The little girl lowered her head and said, "Oh yeah" She had just been reminded that she was not in control of this game, she could just do as she was told. As the game continued she kept trying to be the boss and trying to be in control, but each time her brother reminded her that she was not the boss.
I can't help but put myself in the position of the little girl who kept wanting to be boss. I always find myself trying to control everything. I like to be the leader and I like to have things go my way. What I especially struggle with is letting God be my boss. I often find myself thinking, "God, I know you're in control and all, but I think it would be best if you give me this RIGHT now" or "God, I know you're the boss, but for tonight I am going to be my own boss and I am going to to everything my way." For a lot of people being your own boss is what seems right to you. I understand that, but for me I am a christian and I believe that God is my father and I believe that He always knows what's best for me. From experience I have learned that as soon as I try to take control, everything goes awry and everything falls apart. What I have also learned is that everytime I try to take control, God always gently reminds me that He is boss and He knows whats best because He is bigger than me. Just like the kids I baby-sit for.
Unfortunately I have an important meeting to attend (Yes, as a matter of fact a 16 year old CAN have an important meeting) So I must cut my thought life short, but I do hope this gives you something to think about. Let God be in control of your life...Or, in the famous words of Carrie Underwood, let Jesus take the wheel!
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