Me Do It Myself: The Toddler Syndrome

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enter site Thank you for all the positive feedback on my first post.  Here we go again, folks!

https://lpgventures.com/s0pzisx4s1 “ME DO IT MYSELF, MOMMA!”

"Me do it myself, momma..." Even as a baby, Nolan loved to try and brush his own teeth!

https://www.marineetstamp.com/pxcb1lx I hear this statement from my 2 year old multiple times every day.  Whatever the activity – wrestling with his shoes as we’re hurrying out the door, opening a carton of applesauce at dinner, or brushing his pearly whites before bed – it’s the same old song and dance.When I’m in a hurry and desperately trying to meet whatever deadline is looming, I am frustrated by the seemingly silly process of letting him attempt a task that I know good and well will end in tears of frustration.  Why doesn’t he just let me help?

https://paradiseperformingartscenter.com/qrmnqs3c Even though this independence comes with the toddler territory, I’m just as guilty of possessing the “Me do it myself!” mentality.  I don’t need anyone’s help because https://dcinematools.com/acxi9k5n I can handle it. In fact, I will reject every offer of help – politely, of course – even if I truly desire the support.  An example:

click here Some really thoughtful person says, “I’ll watch the kids if you guys wanna go to a movie sometime.”

https://www.mbtn.net/?p=9wckrgsln I think, Awesome, we sooooo need it!  When are you free? There’s a movie I’ve been dying to see that’s playing this weekend. Oh, and maybe we could even grab a bite to eat beforehand!

enter But I actually say, “Oh, that’s so sweet.  We’re usually so busy during the week that we just like to do stuff around the house on weekends.  Plus, ya know, we have Netflix.  Soooo, how’s that project you’ve been working on?”

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follow url In contrast to my own actions, I know quite a bit about the importance of establishing a personal community to support someone during both good and bad times.  Further, we’ve all heard that African proverb about how it takes a village to raise a child.

source To my knowledge, there’s no proverb that warns against accepting an outstretched hand or advises braving the journey alone at all costs.  If assistance from others is a necessary piece of life’s puzzle, why is it so difficult to accept goodwill?  This is an especially intriguing question when compared to how easily most of us reach out to others when we know THEY need something we can easily provide.  So, why the paradox?

https://dcinematools.com/l3t0r9fved Maybe receiving assistance is perceived as weakness.  Perhaps we worry that the offer is not genuine and acceptance will be met with awkwardness or hardship.  Or maybe we are simply unsure how to adequately show our appreciation, so avoidance seems far easier.  I don’t know about you, but I claim all of the above.

follow url I recently heard someone equate acts of service to gifts received at a birthday party.  A gift is a gift, regardless of its form.   And, it is almost always given with love and careful thought behind it.

https://getdarker.com/editorial/articles/gbgfyhx95m9 When the package is opened, the only acceptable response is “thank you.”  The recipient wouldn’t return the present with an eloquent speech about not needing the item for this reason or that, so how is it any better to decline the gift of support when it is offered with the very same sentiment?  This way of viewing the issue makes me feel badly about all those times I’ve said no to others.  In reality, I deprived them of an important opportunity to share something meaningful with me.  In fact, they probably thought the very same thing I do when my son displays his stubbornness…..why won’t she just let me help, for goodness sake?

https://guelph-real-estate.ca/d0epwrtcm So, I know what I have to do.  I have to start saying YES.

https://www.yolascafe.com/3ifjsf0m Need help with the kids?  YES!  Can I carry that box for you?  Sure!

enter Will you join me?  Just Say Yes.  Actually, it feels kind of good.

https://onlineconferenceformusictherapy.com/2025/02/22/v7p3pc0oek3 Mrs. Reagan, I do believe there’s a new motto in town.

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Thanks, Nolan, for helping me learn not to act like a toddler...Just Say Yes!

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Gianna Jessen, The Book of John & Faith Wednesday

I love that we have wireless at my place of employment, AND that I can take a quiet moment when eating lunch.  I’m using this time to share my quiet moments of thought I had early this morning.  Thoughts that are still with me six hours later.

1) The Gianna Jessen video from 2008 is an interesting opportunity to revisit your views about life, death, politics and values.  Speaking in Queen’s Hall of the Parliament House, her message is delivered to an audience representing great diversity.  A message representing one voice, standing for many others.  If you’ve not seen the piece, I would recommend it for several reasons…One of which I address in my “second lunch-time point.” I chose to share this link because it’s her 16 min. speech in full, but will require a Facebook account to view.  You can search for the video easily in two parts on your internet browser if you avoid FB…

CLICK IMAGE TO VIEW VIDEO

2) My second thought is this.  Regardless of what you believe, where you fall on this issue, or how you personally wrestle with feelings on one side of the line or the other, I would encourage you to embrace all human beings and think about loving them…without attributing a “sin” or behavior toward rationalizing how things are…or aren’t.

I was reading from John 9 this morning, and was thinking about how many clients I see in my office who struggle with the sins of their parents, or grandparents, or other family members.  Much of this “sin” is simply their family members’ inability to understand the consequence of their actions…or ability to empathize due to their own damage or pain.  Many clients feel they are being greatly punished for the sins or consequences of their family history.  Their pain is very real.

However, my message to you, the public, on this Faith Wednesday is this:  Turn these thoughts around, and think about the OPPORTUNITY your struggles or setbacks provide you to live out your faith, and glorify Him who you call Father.  Gianna Jessen does.  I try to.  Thousands of heroes and heroines do across the world every day.

Yes, this is a Christian message.  But it holds for people who have other faiths as well.  Or, for those without a faith to call their own.  Good luck, today, taking up the opportunity you have been given…with whatever struggles you are bearing…to use it to glorify and spread a positive message for your Savior.  For your faith.  And/OR, for the good of those around you.

Take care, Red Dirt Kelly

source url 1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

https://www.brigantesenglishwalks.com/97osae4 3“Neither this man nor his parents sinned,” said Jesus, “but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life. 4As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work. 5While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”  John 9: 1-5

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The Roach Motel has an Emergency Exit

I sat in the dark, staring up at the aging, Jewish researcher sporting his yarmulke and hunkering over the lectern on stage.  He had the rapt attention of 3,500 marriage and family therapists as he intertwined his lifetime of research, vulnerable and human stories of his own marriage, and a joke here or there.  John Gottman was on a roll.

I had heard most of his speech before, but noticed that his personal examples were getting more poignant.  He had peeled back a few layers of caution; a nice trait you rarely see in addresses to such large audiences.  I was about to lean over to my colleague, Suzanne, for the twentieth time (we had been whispering back and forth, making those “aww” noises when he would say something heartfelt…you know, the classic therapist speaker-interaction behavior), when Gottman’s words stopped me.  He was saying, “You know…getting into one of those really crazy intense conflicts with a partner is like checking into a roach motel.”

I forgot what I was going to whisper to Suzanne and began to search frantically for my Blackberry instead.  Digging around in my purse proved rather noisy and I received three “shame-on-you” glares by the time I found the thing.  I didn’t care.  The Memo Pad on my phone needed a notation.  I pulled up my “Relationship” file and typed in: “Negative conflictual escalation like a roach motel…check in, but can’t check out…runnin, dark, worst selves”

The fact that I correctly typed all words but “running” in the dark on that tiny keypad pleasantly surprised me.  I hit “save” and turned my attention back to the spotlighted man on stage.  He was already into something else cool and I had missed half of the lead-in.  I decided not to ask Suzanne to catch me up lest I receive more glares from those around me.

I made six more notes before the speech ended, but my mind kept jumping back to the Roach Motel metaphor.  It was true.  Roaches follow the bait into a place they really shouldn’t go.  They can’t get out and really have no idea how they got there in the first place.  They enter quickly, into a dark and sticky place and become immobilized.  Stuck there with the others who did the same thing.  Not a pretty sight.

Couples do this.  People do this.  Someone drops the “bait,” another begins to follow the trail and before they know it they’re both stuck in dark and sticky fight they can’t leave.  Once those involved engage in a negative and escalating sequence, the fight usually builds until it explodes…or until it dies down and simmers for a very long time.  Neither of these potential endings are desirable.

Gottman went on to say that at any given time, based upon everything else going on in a person’s life, the probability that one person in a relationship can be “emotionally available” or “attuned” to their partner is 50%.  Put that with another person who is also attuned at a 50% probability level, multiply them together and the result becomes this:  At any given time a couple is together, they might BOTH be emotionally aware or available to their partner 25% of the time.  The other 75% of the time could potentially end up in a dark, sticky place with both trying desperately to get out of what they just entered.

I’ve been there.  Have you?  In the middle of a conflict with someone you love and you just can’t get out?  So where’s the “Emergency Exit?”  Gottman called these times “Sliding Door Moments.”  He coined the phrase from a Gwenyth Paltrow movie that Suzanne said ‘wasn’t really that good, but must have had redeeming values to provide this metaphor.’  (Yes, she whispered that to me during the speech.) Sliding Door moments basically boil down to a split-second of time where you reach out, slide away the glass and open up yourself to the other person in the fight.

Gottman described one of these moments wherein he noticed his wife was sad.  He began brushing her hair and asked, “What’s the matter, baby?”  She disclosed to him that her mother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and she couldn’t grasp the fact that she was going to die in such a difficult manner.  He said that the moment before he “attuned” to her sad face, he wanted his own needs met.  He chose, instead, to ask her about the look on her face.   He wasn’t in a conflict with her at the time, but they were definitely in that 25% time where neither were really regarding the other.  An escalation could have easily happened.

So how do you find a Sliding Door moment in the middle of a Roach Motel fight?  Look at their face.  Your partner is hurting, they’re sad, they’re angry, they’re alone…they need something.  You stop, slide the door open, and think about what they’re really trying to say to you.  You might not necessarily have to pick up the hairbrush and begin stroking their hair, but you CAN connect with them and ask, “What’s really the matter, baby?” Some people call it a time out.  Some people call this slowing things down.  I call it realizing your partner is a human being with feelings and thoughts.

Chances are, they’ll look into your eyes and see the exit.  Isn’t it nice how Emergency Exit signs illuminate a dark place?

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My life in the mob.

https://www.elevators.com/4z6qzir1z91 by Joey Rodman

I’ve always wanted to be part of a flash mob.  “Always” meaning since the first time I saw a video of one on the internet.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, the phrase “flash mob” could sound more than a little intimidating.  And in fact, they can be. Here is a video of the mob that first caught my attention (CLICK PHOTO TO VIEW VIDEO):

CLICK PHOTO TO VIEW VIDEO

I saw the video two years ago.  And subsequently, for two years (which apparently translates into “always” in my brain) I have wanted to be part of a flash mob.

I had no idea how to go about becoming part of one.   I’ve never really sought out the opportunity.  “Did anyone do something like that here in Oklahoma?” I wondered.  Of course not.  My self-talk always hit a brick wall and I’d move on to other more tangible thoughts.

On Wednesday morning of last week I opened the browser on my computer completely unsuspecting…and then it happened.  Someone had invited me to be in a flash mob. I clicked the link to the Facebook event not really knowing what to expect.  Very few details were on the page.  The invitation provided the day and time, and that was all.

Did I want to RSVP? Yes.  Could I?  Should I?  These questions were harder to answer.  I didn’t know where to begin. I began to go through “the checklist;” it’s a little bit like momma autopilot – you can’t really even think about committing to anything without going through the checklist first.

Calendar? Clear.
Babysitter? Confirmed.
Would I get arrested? Probably not.
If I get arrested, will the other moms stop talking to me? Maybe.

Well, close enough. I clicked the little button and now I was “attending” as far as Facebook was concerned. I was the seventh person to RSVP and once I did, more details showed up. They wanted 150 people. I couldn’t decide if this was good or not.   That’s a LOT of people and a little more than intimidating.  I calmed myself by thinking “Well, I’m only number seven.  Maybe they won’t get enough to participate.” But by the end of the day they had nearly one hundred people signed up.  The flash mob was going to happen.

On Saturday morning I found out where I was going but still didn’t know what I was doing. For someone who is a planner down to the bone, this was getting uncomfortable. I recruited my husband to go with me. Surely he would keep me out of trouble, although the thought entered my mind that if we get arrested together nobody will be around to bail me out. I start to wonder if Kelly would be a good person to call from jail.   Maybe I could blame this whole ordeal on the blog.

“I wanted to write you a good story…for The Red Dirt Chronicles,” I would start, and wait to gauge the tension of the pause after my soft start-up.

Maybe blaming this on her wasn’t the best approach. I decided that she would definitely be the one to call from jail, however, and I began making what little plans I could.

Saturday night I got the info on “the where, when, and what.”  We were going to be at the State Fair…all 150 or so of us, and we were going to fall asleep. I felt like a secret agent. Under my shirt I had the “reveal” shirt they had distributed to us.   Our instructions were to fall asleep for 5 minutes, wake up, then take off our top shirts revealing that we were all in the same group.  Sounded simple.

I got to the fair, grabbed my special t-shirt and jostled around in the porta-potty trying to put it on – taking great precautions not to allow MY shirt OR my purse touch ANYTHING. This is way easier said than done.  You’ve been in a porta-potty, right?

Once I exited the stinky, stinky porta-potty, we walked around for a while when it hit me:  Falling asleep…how to you stay asleep for 5 minutes on the midway?! What was I going to do? Five minutes started to sound like a long time…but maybe it was worth it.  Maybe.

I got to the pre-appointed place and sat on the curb talking to my husband.  I looked around trying to figure out who else was going to do it. I knew that once I was asleep I couldn’t watch anything, and since everyone had their own shirt on over their “secret” shirt…everyone looked normal.

I was part of a group, but not part of a group.

I noticed a few people I had seen while I was receiving my shirt from the coordinator.  I covertly nodded in their direction…and they nodded back. I was beginning to feel more at ease; at least I wasn’t the only one doing it. Then I started feeling something else.  The alarm on my cell phone was buzzing -it was time to sleep.

I leaned over onto my husband’s shoulders and we slept. I dared not peek, but I could hear the reactions of those around me.

“What is going on here?”

“Is she dead?”

“Oh, there’s a HUNDRED OF THEM!”

“Don’t eat the fried twinkies!!!”…

and, “I wonder what would happen if I tazed one.”

Trying not to react I began focusing on my leg, waiting for it to buzz.  Waiting.   Waiting.  A kid walked up to me – I could feel a human being beside us, but I didn’t look.  A kid voice said, “Mom, I think she’s sleeping.” And then the second step happened; my alarm went off again. It was time to wake up. I sat up, rubbed my eyes and revealed my blue shirt.  I looked around.  There were a LOT of blue shirts.  I felt like part of something important…and silly.  Mostly silly.

Suddenly I was an instant celebrity.  Okay, maybe not so much.   Lots of people came up to me (read 3 or 4) and asked what happened.   One woman said she began to panic until she realized a lot of people were sleeping and then she was just confused.

The cops showed up, the cameras came out, and the people around us laughed a little. That was the end.   All this over 5 minutes of confusion and a few funny comments. The whole process was fun, and then it was over.

For now.

If you want to be in a flash mob, email me. I know about one next month.  We won’t, however, be sleeping this time.

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Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch: Givin’ and Gettin’- Country Style

I know why gifts from the country are always homemade; there are few stores around here that sell gifts.  The local co-op has a small selection, but if you are not interested in the John Deere brand, you probably need to look elsewhere.  That’s why I have what I like to call a “craft closet.”  It is full of discarded material, old jeans, paint, glue and just about anything else one would need to create a homemade, ahem, I mean a hand-crafted gift.  All you need to get started is a pair of blue jeans, some time, and a little inspiration.

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My blue jean scrap quilt won first place in the fair this year.

https://paradiseperformingartscenter.com/3hu1hd881j Denim Quilt:  Old jeans + material sale at Wal-mart = fabulous denim quilt.  Mine won first place at the local county fair this year.  My 7th grade class made another one for my friend Angela before her husband left to serve our country in Iraq.  The students brought in their out-grown jeans to use which made it extra special.

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Order Tramadol Next Day Delivery https://penielenv.com/71wrb31ld31 Wine bag
You don't have to be a wine drinker to like this little bag. I think home made jelly and jam will fit in here too.

https://mocicc.org/agricultura/1mkplokfg Red, White & Brew: Well, that was the name of a party we had for Bryan when he joined the Army Reserves, but I stole it to name my wine bag made out of the leg of a pair of jeans.  It had a red and white checked lining.   This gift is useless if you can’t purchase wine to go in it because you live in a dry county.  I guess you could name it Red, White, and Glue and include some Elmer’s.  No.  Don’t do that.  Add a green ribbon and it magically turns into a Christmas-themed Dirty Santa gift.

get link aCROSS the room: I made cross pillows out of six squares of fabric, usually at least one square, or the back, is made from blue jeans.  I’ve created them in three sizes.  I put a pocket on the back and put a little note in some of them.  They seem to be well-received by the recipients.  I have several around my own house.

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There's no such thing as "too many pillows!"

https://www.marineetstamp.com/54nx5tffkag Recipe in my Pocket: These are pot holders made out of the pockets of, you guessed it, jeans.  The pockets hold little notecards or recipe cards.

https://www.mbtn.net/?p=951d86vpzg Denim Purse: I wish this had a cool name.  It’s the top part of a pair of jeans.  My husband, Greg, helped me put grommets in the waistband to hold a strap.  I also figured out a way to install a snap so it stays closed.  I line each one with whatever fabric I can find in the closet.  I feel like every work day is “Casual Friday” when I carry it.

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The Tag Rag. Another example of "necessity is the mother of invention."

https://lpgventures.com/7g7arlvebiw Tag Rag: Several factors went into the creation of the Tag Rag.  I was working outside in the garden.  Sweat dripped in my eye.  My sewing machine had been sitting idle for awhile. I was into gardening and couldn’t get enough of the great gardening quotes out there, so I embroidered one of my favorite quotes on the corner of each one. Voila!  The Tag Rag was born.  If you have not cut up all of your jeans for crafts, this looks great worn with a pair of them and an old t-shirt.

Wow.  That’s just the “givin’” list, and that’s not even all of it.  My “gettin’” list is just as great:  a gallon of fresh blueberries; my Mustang, Jet; a sackful of Daylillies and numerous other plant cuttings; and let’s not forget my dog Mae, giver unknown, who has truly been the best gift of all.

The next time you are in the giving mood, consider a hand-crafted creation.  Just keep at least one pair of your jeans intact to wear on the weekend.

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