The phrase I chose for a recent year was "Joie de Vivre" which was the inspiration for this blog.
For 2016, the phrase I've chosen--or rather, it seemed to have found me--is this:
In all things, gratitude.
Gratitude for:
A spunky 3 year old girl who brings color to our world. Our brightest joy and biggest challenge, but oh what an adventure it is.
A job that isn't just a job but an actual career, one in which I get to watch people transform their lives for the better, all at a schedule that is accommodating to my busy family.
Divine interactions with people at just the right time.
Weekly planners. I use them as a means of journaling, keeping track of our schedules, and creating a vision for what I want to accomplish. One I plan to order for the new year: this one. It looks perfect!
Fun distractions like picking out paint, time with friends and their littles, and good shows.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Part of the eight percent
I am the member of a club I didn’t ask to join. It’s an
elite group, consisting of only about eight percent of women. The common
thread? Infertility.
It has been a year of trying for a second baby with little
but worry, a lot of ovulation kits, and a few doctor appointments to show for it. Over the course of twelve months I’ve gone from being excited about growing our little
family to getting anxious every month to dreading going out in public or
venturing out into social media world, where everyone is announcing pregnancies
or complaining about their symptoms or showing squishy little newborn pictures.
And I just can’t deal with it.
In one year’s time, approximately 92% of women who are actively trying to conceive (meaning having a little fun in the sheets—or wherever—during ovulation) will do so. The rest of us? We’re labeled as infertile. For many, it’s Unexplained Infertility, that is to say there’s no real diagnosable reason for it. Some of us are lucky enough to have Secondary Infertility, a state no one really talks about but is actually more common than Primary Infertility, according to my RE.
Oh, that’s another thing. In the public health world we joke about the acronyms used all the time. Every field is like that, I suppose. But you want acronyms? The fertility world has them. It starts with checking our bbt daily in addition to using opks on cd10-? To track o. You then bd eod or every day and then begin poas 7dpo or later, hoping for a bfp that leads to a hb and not a cp or mmc. And lots of baby dust! And sticky vibes. And all that ridiculous lingo that somehow begins to feel all too familiar.
Here’s what I’ve learned in the last year:
1. I am not nearly as strong as I like to think I am.
This whole year has made me anxious, worried, and terribly afraid that I’ll leave my child a lonely, only child. It has affected my business and my ability to concentrate on my daily work.
2. People are insensitive.
Okay, this I knew already. But here’s the thing. PLEASE stop asking people when they’re going to have a baby. Just like it's rude to ask a person about his or her's weight, it’s impolite to ask about this topic too. And, for heaven’s sake, a person having one baby does NOT give you permission to ask about when they’re having a second one. For one, they may not want another. Secondly? In case you’re missing the point of my post, Secondary Infertililty happens, y’all. Speaking of which, on to the next one.
3. You shouldn’t ask about people’s sex life.
Unless you’re the type of friends whom you share this type of relationship with (and we all need at least one friend we can talk to about this), don’t ask any of the following questions:
Are you doing it right?
Are you ovulating?
What positions do you use?
Are you staying elevated after?
Do you use a sperm-friendly lubricant?
Don’t you think you need to gain weight?
How are your husband’s swimmers? He’s a cyclist. Aren’t they getting squished?
Y’all. I can assure you we know what we’re doing. I have had a year to educate myself on working through things. Your two cents probably isn’t going to help much. I’ve thought it, bought it, tried it, worried about it…you name it, I’ve probably done it.
3. People are still insensitive.
This needs to be emphasized, only now I’ll address the comments phase. Here are some of the things I’ve heard.
“You just need to gain weight.”
“Rolf needs to quit riding a bike!”
“You need to stop worrying. Just relax and it’ll happen!”
“It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”
“It’s all part of God’s plan.”
“Oh, you want another? Here, you can have one of mine.”
“Gee, I got pregnant right away.”
You all, those last few statements are particularly insulting and hurtful. Number one, who the fuck decided that stress causes infertility? Actually, stress is a by-product of infertility, not a cause of. So let’s get that straight. Also, the notion of things happening when they’re supposed to and it all being part of God’s plan insinuates that either my life isn’t together or God wants me to suffer. I just can’t reconcile either of those thoughts.
As for the offer for one of your children or you sharing that you got pregnant right away, well those are just big shakes of salt grinding into our wounds. Your child is lovely, I’m sure. However, it doesn’t share any of my DNa. And yes, adoption is a wonderful thing and has been on my heart since high school, but I am obviously trying to conceive on my own for certain reasons. Your flippant, totally in jest statement is belittling to the sadness that is heavy on my heart in this season of life. As for your getting pregnant right away or by accident? Good for you. Go ahead and wear that gold star today.
But honestly, I was hanging out with some friends when one said to me, fresh squish in hands, “It’ll happen when it’s meant to be.” I just about lost it. I wasn’t looking for advice and, if I was, I wouldn’t be searching for it from someone who still has a fresh new mama glow.
4. Listen to your bodies.
I started going to my doctor about this after 6 months. She told me to redecorate a room and enjoy the trips we had planned coming up and that I’d be pregnant by the summer. She also told me to stop tracking my ovulation. Here’s the thing. If your doctor discourages you from better knowing your body or dismisses your concerns, find another one.
In one year’s time, approximately 92% of women who are actively trying to conceive (meaning having a little fun in the sheets—or wherever—during ovulation) will do so. The rest of us? We’re labeled as infertile. For many, it’s Unexplained Infertility, that is to say there’s no real diagnosable reason for it. Some of us are lucky enough to have Secondary Infertility, a state no one really talks about but is actually more common than Primary Infertility, according to my RE.
Oh, that’s another thing. In the public health world we joke about the acronyms used all the time. Every field is like that, I suppose. But you want acronyms? The fertility world has them. It starts with checking our bbt daily in addition to using opks on cd10-? To track o. You then bd eod or every day and then begin poas 7dpo or later, hoping for a bfp that leads to a hb and not a cp or mmc. And lots of baby dust! And sticky vibes. And all that ridiculous lingo that somehow begins to feel all too familiar.
Here’s what I’ve learned in the last year:
1. I am not nearly as strong as I like to think I am.
This whole year has made me anxious, worried, and terribly afraid that I’ll leave my child a lonely, only child. It has affected my business and my ability to concentrate on my daily work.
2. People are insensitive.
Okay, this I knew already. But here’s the thing. PLEASE stop asking people when they’re going to have a baby. Just like it's rude to ask a person about his or her's weight, it’s impolite to ask about this topic too. And, for heaven’s sake, a person having one baby does NOT give you permission to ask about when they’re having a second one. For one, they may not want another. Secondly? In case you’re missing the point of my post, Secondary Infertililty happens, y’all. Speaking of which, on to the next one.
3. You shouldn’t ask about people’s sex life.
Unless you’re the type of friends whom you share this type of relationship with (and we all need at least one friend we can talk to about this), don’t ask any of the following questions:
Are you doing it right?
Are you ovulating?
What positions do you use?
Are you staying elevated after?
Do you use a sperm-friendly lubricant?
Don’t you think you need to gain weight?
How are your husband’s swimmers? He’s a cyclist. Aren’t they getting squished?
Y’all. I can assure you we know what we’re doing. I have had a year to educate myself on working through things. Your two cents probably isn’t going to help much. I’ve thought it, bought it, tried it, worried about it…you name it, I’ve probably done it.
3. People are still insensitive.
This needs to be emphasized, only now I’ll address the comments phase. Here are some of the things I’ve heard.
“You just need to gain weight.”
“Rolf needs to quit riding a bike!”
“You need to stop worrying. Just relax and it’ll happen!”
“It’ll happen when it’s supposed to happen.”
“It’s all part of God’s plan.”
“Oh, you want another? Here, you can have one of mine.”
“Gee, I got pregnant right away.”
You all, those last few statements are particularly insulting and hurtful. Number one, who the fuck decided that stress causes infertility? Actually, stress is a by-product of infertility, not a cause of. So let’s get that straight. Also, the notion of things happening when they’re supposed to and it all being part of God’s plan insinuates that either my life isn’t together or God wants me to suffer. I just can’t reconcile either of those thoughts.
As for the offer for one of your children or you sharing that you got pregnant right away, well those are just big shakes of salt grinding into our wounds. Your child is lovely, I’m sure. However, it doesn’t share any of my DNa. And yes, adoption is a wonderful thing and has been on my heart since high school, but I am obviously trying to conceive on my own for certain reasons. Your flippant, totally in jest statement is belittling to the sadness that is heavy on my heart in this season of life. As for your getting pregnant right away or by accident? Good for you. Go ahead and wear that gold star today.
But honestly, I was hanging out with some friends when one said to me, fresh squish in hands, “It’ll happen when it’s meant to be.” I just about lost it. I wasn’t looking for advice and, if I was, I wouldn’t be searching for it from someone who still has a fresh new mama glow.
4. Listen to your bodies.
I started going to my doctor about this after 6 months. She told me to redecorate a room and enjoy the trips we had planned coming up and that I’d be pregnant by the summer. She also told me to stop tracking my ovulation. Here’s the thing. If your doctor discourages you from better knowing your body or dismisses your concerns, find another one.
….
Let that sink in.
It took me a couple of months, but I went to another doctor.
Sweet and more supportive than the last, she too said it would happen soon.
Nearly 6 months later, it hasn’t. So what did I do? I scheduled an appointment
with a reproductive endocrinologist, better known as an RE in fertility world.
As someone once said, ob-gyns are great at keeping you pregnant, but it’s the Res
that are good at getting you
pregnant. So with that said, I’m now on a course of action so that we can
expedite the process. Because who wants to wait an entire year of actively
trying before seeking out professional help?
5. Infertility is a lonely world, especially when it comes
in secondary form.
In my daughter’s daycare class, there is almost always a pregnant belly or a new sibling. In the land of social media there are pregnancy announcements left and right, and we’re talking the ones at pinterest-level effort. There’s no “Hey, I’m pregnant!” anymore. No, no. It’s got to be announced with a random celebrity’s assistance or a perfectly designed photo shoot or poem or some other ridiculously concocted plan.
It is a terribly lonely and isolating place to have one child and long for another. There are people who will say, “You should be grateful that you even have one. Some don’t get that!” Don’t be one of those people. If you say that to me, I can’t promise what reaction you’ll get. Because no matter how many children you have, if you expect to be able to have more and then suddenly find yourself unable, it is truly devastating.
I’m not wrapping up this post in a beautiful package and telling you that I am now in a better place about it or that I’ve found myself unexpectedly pregnant. I’ve never been one to sugarcoat a current status and have always found it frustrating when people post after they’ve seen the rainbow after a storm. I’m still in the middle of the downpour.
Here’s my ask from you: be sensitive to those around you. That’s it. Use common sense. Don’t ask insulting questions. Don’t let a thoughtless pearl of wisdom roll off your tongue. It’s not nearly as eloquent as you hope it to be. Instead, just be real. Ask how they’re doing. Drop the subject if they don’t seem as if they want to talk about it. Listen if they do. Don’t give advice. If they want it, they’ll ask for it.
Until next time….
In my daughter’s daycare class, there is almost always a pregnant belly or a new sibling. In the land of social media there are pregnancy announcements left and right, and we’re talking the ones at pinterest-level effort. There’s no “Hey, I’m pregnant!” anymore. No, no. It’s got to be announced with a random celebrity’s assistance or a perfectly designed photo shoot or poem or some other ridiculously concocted plan.
It is a terribly lonely and isolating place to have one child and long for another. There are people who will say, “You should be grateful that you even have one. Some don’t get that!” Don’t be one of those people. If you say that to me, I can’t promise what reaction you’ll get. Because no matter how many children you have, if you expect to be able to have more and then suddenly find yourself unable, it is truly devastating.
I’m not wrapping up this post in a beautiful package and telling you that I am now in a better place about it or that I’ve found myself unexpectedly pregnant. I’ve never been one to sugarcoat a current status and have always found it frustrating when people post after they’ve seen the rainbow after a storm. I’m still in the middle of the downpour.
Here’s my ask from you: be sensitive to those around you. That’s it. Use common sense. Don’t ask insulting questions. Don’t let a thoughtless pearl of wisdom roll off your tongue. It’s not nearly as eloquent as you hope it to be. Instead, just be real. Ask how they’re doing. Drop the subject if they don’t seem as if they want to talk about it. Listen if they do. Don’t give advice. If they want it, they’ll ask for it.
Until next time….
Friday, May 29, 2015
3 years old!
Our girl is 3, though I'm not sure how that happened. We lose time the way I lose bobby pins or mates to socks. How has it gone so quickly? Not that first difficult year of growing pains and getting to know each other, but this past year? *snap* Like that. In lieu of a long, mushy post about this delightful, energetic, funny, strong-willed and adventurous girl, I'll settle for a list. Here goes:
"Weeeelll, it's not YOUR birthday."
 |
| Rockin' the eighties look at our favorite grocery store. |
Nicknames: Vivi, Snugs, Viv (mostly from men)
Favorite color: (Elsa) blue
Favorite animal: "baby doggy"
Favorite book: Many. Push comes to shove, Monster Needs A Costume and the one about dinosaurs saying goodnight
Favorite show: Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood
Favorite movie: Frozen
Favorite song: Let It Go or Shake It Off
Favorite food: soup (or chocolate…like mother, like daughter)
 |
| First day of spring! |
Favorite drink: chocolate milk when she's allowed, otherwise milk
Favorite breakfast food: Nancy's cinnamon raisin bagels or homemade waffles
Favorite snack: kids' Clif bars
Favorite outfit: dresses and her Elsa dress complete with hoop skirt, when she can get away with it
Favorite game: Red Shoe Runaround (Eisinger original, folks.) Frozen matching game (Thanks, Maxie!)
Favorite toy: Baby
Best friend: Oh, you know. Kids at school, other friends, or the random kid she met that day on the playground. Extrovert.
Favorite thing to do: Be outside
Favorite thing to do outside: Walk to the playground at the end of the street
What do you like to take with you to bed at night? Books, Baby, a snack, hair bows…
Where is your favorite place to go? The library or the park.
 |
| Birthday doughnut action |
Favorite restaurant? Do preschoolers have favorite restaurants? Nancy's, I guess…
What did you do on your birthday? Started the day with a sprinkle doughnut at Nord's Bakery, went to school and had treats there, then had a special dinner at home and played at the playground, opened gifts and had a visit from Mimi and Pop Pop.
Favorite quotes from Vivi:
"Mommy, can I blow out the candle?"
"No honey, leave it lit. Mommy wants it that way."
"It's not yours either!"
"How much do you love Mommy?"
"Umm….2 hours!"
"What did we do today, Vivi? Did we go to the doctor?"
"Uh huh. And that doctor not crazy."
"Crazy? Why would you think she'd be crazy?"
"I don't know!"
"Someday I get big hands too."
"And what will you do when you get big hands?"
"Um, cook with Mommy-Daddy. And hold my baby stister."
"I slept in Mommy-Daddy, Vivi's bed last night."
"No honey, you slept in Mommy-Daddy's bed."
Vivi-girl, you're the best kid I ever could've imagined. You challenge me daily to become the best version of myself I possibly can be, and your daddy too. We are lucky to have you as our daughter.
Sunday, December 28, 2014
Christmas Adventures (or mishaps?)
It's the closing of Christmas weekend. I can't say I'm sorry to see it go this year, though the rest of the year was quite a lovely one. It was all fun and games until our girl ended up in the doctor's office with antibiotics for her sinus infection 3 days before Christmas. Luckily, we managed to celebrate my birthday with gusto the next day before the rain fell harder, so to speak. It was a day of firsts: First trip to Nord's Bakery (finally!) and then to Sunergos to enjoy them. Vivi was so excited to have breakfast there before going to school. That evening Rolf and I finally ventured to Rocksport, where I had my first wall climbing experience. So fun! All those lunges and runs have paid off and I wasn't as sore as I anticipated.
The rest of the weekend improved, though a quick little kitchen fix became a big sink fiasco when the water quit working. Rolf worked for more than an hour to get it working again:
Christmas Eve was full of plans like baking, cooking, completion of wrapping, grocery shopping…the works. But Rolf woke up with crippling nausea and was forced to stay in bed all day. Vivi was in a terrible mood and I can't say that mine was any better. She and I braved the rain for what ended up being an hour and a half trip to the grocery, missed church, and ended up at my brother's without Rolf. We were sad pandas. Rolf ventured out to Walgreens for not one but two Redbox movies. He was awfully sad about it, but we muscled through it.
Mom spent the last 5 months--all of her retirement so far--making quilts to give out for Christmas. They turned out so beautiful! This isn't a talent I possess.
Christmas Day was better, though our girl had an epic tantrum after not going to bed early enough, still being sick, and not getting nearly enough snuggles from her daddy the day before. In a nutshell, Rolf and I spent the first 45 minutes of Christmas Day cleaning, periodically asking Vivi if she was ready to see her gifts. She was not. ::shrugs::
Family came over that night and all had improved. She loved the ladybug outfit her cousins picked out for her. That glass of wine in her little hands? I think we both could've used some that night.
As our weekend draws to a close, I'm thankful for the time with family and for celebrating the season of joy, but I'm looking forward to a fresh week. I think Vivi's thoughts during our walk this afternoon kind of sums it up:
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
A little bit of ice (cream)
I think I fall more in love with my daughter with season. Or maybe it's every month. Every day? It's a steady progression, that I know. A week goes by and I feel more of an attachment to this little fireball of energy. Those moments of growing attachment are laced with feelings of frustration as this wee girl demands independence, wanting to explore everything around her, to touch everything she possibly can so she can understand how it all works.
Two weeks ago we were on our annual trek to a quiet Florida beach town with my family. I say trek because the word "vacation" may not be as apt a description as it was pre-Snugs. It's rewarding in a whole new way, though I wouldn't always say it's relaxing.
There was one night where the ten of us agreed to go out to dinner instead of eating in. It usually involves us going to the downtown area, which is a lovely little old district near the bay. You can check out the shrimping boats coming in each evening, the boats filled with people and dinner parties, buy coffee at the token local coffee shop (owned by my friend's friend, randomly enough), or buy a pirate trinket (pirates are their town mascots, yarrrrghh!). You can also buy fudge and ice cream at the best little fudge shop around (and the only one). It's a little treat that we enjoy every year.
It was crowded (typical) and I wasn't planning on buying ice cream because I didn't want to fight that battle with Snugs on how much she could have. I did try a sample or two and let her try a bite, but then I thought that I would do what I rarely do, which is to give in and let her have a treat. The joy that instantly spread across her face when she saw a cup of ice cream and learned it was for her was one I'd never seen on her before. Her eyes quite literally lit up and her lips spread happily. At that moment, my heart felt a fullness that filled my entire being. That's so silly to write (I try to keep my emotions in check most of the time), but it's true. If I gave in to her frequently, I don't think it would be the same. And it didn't make me want to give in to her more than it already did. What it did to was offer me a realization of just how much each action I take as her mama will affect her. As excited as she was about a treat, her fragile feelings can be damaged just as easily. I've seen the crestfallen look on her face when my exasperation is too thinly veiled, or she misunderstood my tone when I worry that she's about to her herself somehow.
The ice cream incident was so much more than giving in to my daughter. For me, it was the lesson I needed to remember how influential I am and will continue to be, and to think about what kind of memories I want her to have of me. It won't be about giving in to her every desire but it will be about weaving compassion and love through everything I do.
Two weeks ago we were on our annual trek to a quiet Florida beach town with my family. I say trek because the word "vacation" may not be as apt a description as it was pre-Snugs. It's rewarding in a whole new way, though I wouldn't always say it's relaxing.
There was one night where the ten of us agreed to go out to dinner instead of eating in. It usually involves us going to the downtown area, which is a lovely little old district near the bay. You can check out the shrimping boats coming in each evening, the boats filled with people and dinner parties, buy coffee at the token local coffee shop (owned by my friend's friend, randomly enough), or buy a pirate trinket (pirates are their town mascots, yarrrrghh!). You can also buy fudge and ice cream at the best little fudge shop around (and the only one). It's a little treat that we enjoy every year.
It was crowded (typical) and I wasn't planning on buying ice cream because I didn't want to fight that battle with Snugs on how much she could have. I did try a sample or two and let her try a bite, but then I thought that I would do what I rarely do, which is to give in and let her have a treat. The joy that instantly spread across her face when she saw a cup of ice cream and learned it was for her was one I'd never seen on her before. Her eyes quite literally lit up and her lips spread happily. At that moment, my heart felt a fullness that filled my entire being. That's so silly to write (I try to keep my emotions in check most of the time), but it's true. If I gave in to her frequently, I don't think it would be the same. And it didn't make me want to give in to her more than it already did. What it did to was offer me a realization of just how much each action I take as her mama will affect her. As excited as she was about a treat, her fragile feelings can be damaged just as easily. I've seen the crestfallen look on her face when my exasperation is too thinly veiled, or she misunderstood my tone when I worry that she's about to her herself somehow.
The ice cream incident was so much more than giving in to my daughter. For me, it was the lesson I needed to remember how influential I am and will continue to be, and to think about what kind of memories I want her to have of me. It won't be about giving in to her every desire but it will be about weaving compassion and love through everything I do.
Friday, May 30, 2014
The magic of summer
It's going to be a good summer. I get two almost whole days a week home with my Snugs and that is a wonderful thing. Every day I am thankful to have left my old workplace behind. I get paid to help families transition into life with a new little one? And to help people make healthy lifestyle changes? Really? I am fortunate.
This spring we experienced some of the magic of the still new Parklands area. Here are my two favorite people, enjoying the clean water in Floyds Fork. It was beautiful magic.
This spring we experienced some of the magic of the still new Parklands area. Here are my two favorite people, enjoying the clean water in Floyds Fork. It was beautiful magic.
I was offered a full time job as a health coach but turned it down. It would've been a significant increase in pay from the health department, but I just couldn't put a price tag on getting that extra time with our Snugs each week. It seems to be working out the way it was supposed to. Sometimes I make decisions that don't look the wisest on paper, but my intuition tells me otherwise. I'm glad I listened to my intuition again. It rarely, if ever, proves me wrong.
In the meantime, Snugs and I are currently surviving weekend #2 without Rolf. Last weekend was bike racing in Iowa, home for 48 hours, then back off. This time it's to Minnesota to celebrate his dad's retirement. I have great respect for the people who parent on their own. It is possible but exhausting. We're making the best of it though. Strawberry picking at Huber's tomorrow, and then a pool day on Sunday.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Restored Faith in Humanity
Today I'm thankful for seventy degrees and sunshine, both of which showed up not a minute too soon. The daffodils which Rolf surprised me by planting the first year we lived in the house are inching upwards, bursting with blooms and new life. Every time I walk to and from my car, I think of that loving act, of planting my favorite flowers, which I enjoy for a few weeks each March. Doing is Rolf's act of kindness, of love. Cleaning the car, updating the weekly budget, cutting the grass...sometimes it gets us into trouble because our love languages aren't always expressed the same way. But planting those daffodil bulbs? An undoubted expression of love.
Last week was one which required flexibility and working together with one another. We came home from an Eisinger trip a day early to beat a storm so that Rolf could leave the following day. First flight was canceled, then another flight booked for later that day. Oh, canceled without notice? And a toddler with a stomach bug? And a mama who has emetophobia? Okay, March, let's play nice. But we survived.
Rolf finally made it to D.C. on Wednesday morning. He came back Thursday afternoon and I worked until late Thursday evening. We finally had the opportunity to catch up with one another and it was there that I learned a great lesson that has left me in thought since then.
When I inquired about what the best part of his trip was or what he was most excited to learn about, his reply was slightly uncharacteristic. He said that he'd actually learned more about life than about work or any cycling projects. This year he'd traveled with a community partner from Louisville, one whom he has considerable respect for. What he was able to observe about this guy even more than usual is his joy for life and desire to connect with people--even strangers--around him. Rolf found himself engaged in even more conversation with strangers than usual because of his friend's influence. He watched the man invite strangers to get-togethers, direct lost people towards their hotel entrances, and even brought a homeless gentleman a full meal after he'd asked for money on their way into a restaurant.
***************************************
Despite being an introvert myself, I am quite a social one. I often find myself connecting with strangers out in public, enjoying little moments with friendly faces and enjoying short connections. I had one of those moments at Chick-Fil-A in Indianapolis on the way home from Chicago. Vivi had been a trooper on the long travels and we agreed to stop so she could play in the indoor playground. Rolf took her in and I talked with two moms and their kids at the booth behind us. They were keeping close tabs on their children playing, talking to one another about how thankful they were that they each played with a girl who had Down's Syndrome and had just been rejected by another child.
At one point, the girl had taken a liking to Vivi's boots, which were sitting on the floor next to the bench. I waited to see what would happen, debating on what to do...I am still such a new mama on some levels, and I figured I'd let it play out for a minute. The younger of the two mamas went into the playground and gently asked the little girl (not her child) if she could give those to the mama. She cheerfully handed them to me with a smile, "I think these are your daughter's, aren't they?"
*****************************************
Sometimes I (and apparently Rolf) need to be reminded that kind people are out there. We both talked about how those interactions with strangers, seemingly superficial, actually have a significant impact: they restore our faith in humanity.
It's easy to assume that the people next to us in the grocery store, sitting in the car next to us at the light, or the person checking us are indifferent or, worse, are intentionally unkind or selfish. But the more I interact with people on my own--saying hi to others out in public, asking non-creepy or non-invasive questions, or just great passersby with a "Good evening!" and a smile, I find a renewed confidence in humankind. Not just with strangers, but also with my friends. I'm thankful for those instances and for the opportunity Rolf and I had to share them with one another.
What restores your faith in humanity?
Last week was one which required flexibility and working together with one another. We came home from an Eisinger trip a day early to beat a storm so that Rolf could leave the following day. First flight was canceled, then another flight booked for later that day. Oh, canceled without notice? And a toddler with a stomach bug? And a mama who has emetophobia? Okay, March, let's play nice. But we survived.
Rolf finally made it to D.C. on Wednesday morning. He came back Thursday afternoon and I worked until late Thursday evening. We finally had the opportunity to catch up with one another and it was there that I learned a great lesson that has left me in thought since then.
When I inquired about what the best part of his trip was or what he was most excited to learn about, his reply was slightly uncharacteristic. He said that he'd actually learned more about life than about work or any cycling projects. This year he'd traveled with a community partner from Louisville, one whom he has considerable respect for. What he was able to observe about this guy even more than usual is his joy for life and desire to connect with people--even strangers--around him. Rolf found himself engaged in even more conversation with strangers than usual because of his friend's influence. He watched the man invite strangers to get-togethers, direct lost people towards their hotel entrances, and even brought a homeless gentleman a full meal after he'd asked for money on their way into a restaurant.
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Despite being an introvert myself, I am quite a social one. I often find myself connecting with strangers out in public, enjoying little moments with friendly faces and enjoying short connections. I had one of those moments at Chick-Fil-A in Indianapolis on the way home from Chicago. Vivi had been a trooper on the long travels and we agreed to stop so she could play in the indoor playground. Rolf took her in and I talked with two moms and their kids at the booth behind us. They were keeping close tabs on their children playing, talking to one another about how thankful they were that they each played with a girl who had Down's Syndrome and had just been rejected by another child.
At one point, the girl had taken a liking to Vivi's boots, which were sitting on the floor next to the bench. I waited to see what would happen, debating on what to do...I am still such a new mama on some levels, and I figured I'd let it play out for a minute. The younger of the two mamas went into the playground and gently asked the little girl (not her child) if she could give those to the mama. She cheerfully handed them to me with a smile, "I think these are your daughter's, aren't they?"
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Sometimes I (and apparently Rolf) need to be reminded that kind people are out there. We both talked about how those interactions with strangers, seemingly superficial, actually have a significant impact: they restore our faith in humanity.
It's easy to assume that the people next to us in the grocery store, sitting in the car next to us at the light, or the person checking us are indifferent or, worse, are intentionally unkind or selfish. But the more I interact with people on my own--saying hi to others out in public, asking non-creepy or non-invasive questions, or just great passersby with a "Good evening!" and a smile, I find a renewed confidence in humankind. Not just with strangers, but also with my friends. I'm thankful for those instances and for the opportunity Rolf and I had to share them with one another.
What restores your faith in humanity?
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