Momma’s spot – Flowers Family Blog

Traditions

To tradition or not to tradition? That is the question hanging over the Flower’s household as the Holiday season approaches. Ya’ll I’m not going to lie, I look forward to this time of year less and less every year.

I used to be the one flitting around, baking enough sweets to feed an entire country, draping garland over anything that would stand still, shouting “Merry Christmas!” to every man woman and child within 100 yards of me from November 1st til New Years. We’ve always had the huge tree covered with ornaments and lights, present piled all around. We’re the yard that looks like Clark Griswold on crack; can be seen from space, I swear it. Santa gets hand pressed, sprinkle decorated, homemade cookies on a special plate. Every room in our house sparkles with collectible nativities, snowmen, lights and greenery, the whole place is touched with Christmas cheer.

But the last few years I have found my joy in these great time honored traditions dwindling, and it makes me sad. The decorating feels like such a chore. I don’t want to drag the hundred boxes labeled “Christmas” down from the attic. I have given our fake, pre lit tree (too many allergies in this household for a real one) the endearing name of “stupid tree”, because I loathe the hours it takes to get it put up and fluffed out before we can even start decorating it. To watch my husband struggle and curse at tangled lights and finicky blow ups is no longer amusing, but irritating.

I know, I know. I might as well shout “Bah Humbug!” and steal Cindy Lou Who’s presents. But guys, I’m just not feeling it. The months of November and December are some of the busiest there are in my crazy nursing world. I just can’t seem to muster the energy and enthusiasm it takes to pull off a traditional Christmas anymore. I just want to spend quality time with my family not on my family.

So, I came up with a grand plan. We’ll run away to the beach for Christmas! I’m talking primo family time, fabulous vacation. Beach front condo, whale watching, scuba diving. Amen and Merry Christmas to us! Who needs all that tradition stuff when you’ve got sand between your toes and the soothing sound of the ocean in your ears as you laze in the warm tropical sun? Right?

Wrong. My husband still insists that the lights must go up. I mean how can it be Christmas without an inflatable Darth Vader and Yoda in your front yard? It’s tradition. And I thought my son was going to lose it when I told him I wasn’t putting up the “stupid tree” this year. Where’s Santa supposed to put his presents if there’s no tree, he asks? Side note, the trip was supposed to be everyone’s present. What? No presents! You can’t have Christmas without presents. Well what about cookies? We have to make sugar cookies. It’s tradition. Oh, and where are we going to watch The Polar Express in 3D on Christmas Eve if we’re not home to watch it on the 3D TV? It’s tradition!

I was so close to my hassle free Christmas dream, and now my traditionalists have vetoed my Skipping Christmas attitude. Cue the pouting, arms crossed, foot stamp “I don’t want to”. My inner child is about to sit in the middle of the grocery store aisle and throw a fit for all to see if I don’t get my way here. I want the beach and I want it now!

Okay, okay, that’s a bit extreme. Maybe. But in writing this I think I’ve had my lightbulb moment of the day. The reason I no longer find joy in our traditions is that I’m more focused on the Season, rather than the Reason. In these years past I’ve been so caught up in giving my family a “magical” Christmas, when the real joy is found in the Meaning of Christmas. God did not send his Holy, Righteous Son so that we could have an overwhelming collection of nativity sets or a gazillion Christmas ornaments. My Lord sent His Son to be my Risen Savior, and that’s something worth celebrating! Ah, there’s my joy! I knew it was hiding in there somewhere, buried beneath a pile of tinsel I’m sure.

So, we’re still going to the beach. But we’re going because I want some fun, uninterrupted time with these two amazing guys God blessed me with. That brings me joy. And as a compromise, because that’s what loving families do, we will still keep a select few of our traditions going. The ones that really mean something and bring joy to our family and others. The rest of the energy sapping fluff will go, because that’s all it is, fluff. I’ll keep you all updated on whether the “stupid tree” makes the cut or not.

What are some special traditions you share with your family? Are there some that you’d like to see become a thing of Christmas past? How will you find your joy this Christmas?

Humble Pie

I’ve had the great joy of being around someone that, as of late, has been venting, about EVERYTHING, loudly. My ears are so full of negativity I’ve considered searching Amazon to price out the best ear plugs.

I was discussing (gossiping) with another friend about this resident ranter when she politely hit me with an epic truth, “You know, my grandmother always told me that when something really bothers you about another person, it’s probably because it bothers you about yourself”. Wow! Chew, chew, swallow, swallow. Excuse me while I choke down this piece of humble pie that grandma just served up. Mmmmmm, is that a hint of crow I’m tasting?

This one. Doesn't taste as good as it looks. — This one. Doesn’t taste as good as it looks.

Needless to say, my friend’s words of wisdom got me thinking. How many times have I been the one “just venting”? How many times have I used the phrase “I just gotta say”? Oh sorry, excuse me while I take one more bite of that humble pie. No, no, leave the fork. I’m sure I’ll be taking another bite in a moment.

I recall a conversation (argument) with my husband a while back. I had been coming home, day after day, complaining about problems at work. After enduring this for a while he proceeded to tell me, in that fabulously husband way of his, everything I was doing wrong, and how to fix it. Well, like my father in law used to say, that went over like a fat lady doing high jump. I believe the shouting match went something like “I wasn’t asking you to fix it, I just needed to vent!”. Followed by, “Well I’m sick and tired of listening to you complain! Why do you even bring it up if you’re not going to do anything but bitch about it?”. And so on and so forth, more yelling, tears, I’m sorrys, hugging, blah, blah, blah.

But you know what, oh I hate saying this, he was right. How many times can you say that “just venting” has solved your problems? Do you feel any better about the situation when you do nothing but bitch and moan about it? How often am I complaining about an issue without taking the time to look for a solution? And, oh this is the big one, how does my constant grumbling effect the power of my words?

I feel some serious life lessons coming my way here. Oh wait, just a few more bites of that humble pie to go with them. Gulp. Whew, those were tough bites to choke down. Ok, big girl panties are out of the drawer, here we go.

Lesson numero uno. Do not continue to vent, complain, bitch, moan, argue, criticize, bellyache or grumble about a problem if you’re not going to present a solution. No one wants to listen to you bemoan what you perceive (oooo there’s another nugget) as an issue all day long if you’re not actually going to do something about it

Oh, I get it (cue the lightbulb). My problem is my griping about my problems. Yeah, I know, I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes. So, let me give this a try. If I see a problem, and have a solution for that problem, it’s okay to talk about it? Yes, within reason. So I should shout my solution over and over and over again until someone listens? Nope, do that and you’re back to where you started. So once is enough? Dang, this gets harder and harder. Does Amazon sell muzzles?

But what if I don’t have the power or authority to solve the problem? If I don’t loudly voice to everyone in my reach that there is a problem how are they supposed to know there’s a problem? Here’s an easy way to answer that. If I was the boss would I want my employees shouting our issues from the rooftops? Alright, alright, point taken. If it’s not my problem to fix, shut up. I look good in blue, maybe Amazon has that muzzle in a nice blue to match my eyes.

Okay, another bite of humble pie choked down and the first leg is in the big girl panties. Let me lay the next one on ya.

Lesson numero dos. If all people hear out of your mouth is whine, whine, whine, they’re going to stop listening. Remember the boy who cried wolf? He flapped his gums so much that everyone ignored him, even when he finally had something important to say. Can I bedazzle my blue muzzle, just to give it a little pizzaz?

Like most people, I’ve always wanted to be a positive influence wherever I go. Well, I can’t exactly influence those around me if they’ve already invested in those same ear plugs I was considering earlier. I could have a great idea, a real problem solver. But if I’ve griped and yapped about the problem for months before offering up my solution, chances are it’s going to fall on deaf ears. Get it, ear plugs, deaf ears. No? Okay, I’ll move on.

Fork at the ready, bite choked down, second leg in, here we go.

Lesson numero tres. If a solution doesn’t present itself or you do not have the power to change a situation, you need to change your attitude towards it. Anyone else remember your parents telling you that you needed an attitude adjustment? If you continue to find yourself knee deep in the same muck time and again, maybe you are the problem. Ouch! That bite of humble pie was the toughest yet. I think I cracked a tooth!

Sometimes changing the way you look at a problem makes it much less of a problem. It’s that whole mole hills mountains thing. If I would just step back and take deep breath instead of charging in with lips flapping I might have a better chance of seeing the whole big picture. Who knows? I might even like the artwork.

Okay, I’ve chewed, choked, gagged, and finally swallowed my humble pie. Now it’s time to pull those big girl panties all the way up, belly button high, and put these lessons into action.

Oh shoot! Here I am trying to do it all by myself again. My sure fire, tried and true way of falling on my face. Before I break my nose let’s pray.

Gracious, merciful Father. Please guide my thoughts and words. Help me to shut my mouth when I need to (that bedazzled blue muzzle might help), and speak up with authority when I’m supposed to. Please help me to maintain the right attitude for every situation (the occasional butt kicking may be necessary here), and take the time to stop and admire your beautiful plan hidden within the chaos I love to create. Amen.

Mom’s turn

Hello all! My name is Shelby, and I am a

Wife
Mom
Nurse
Daughter
Granddaughter
Aunt
Sister
Friend
Teacher
Counselor
Pet Momma
Gardner (sorta)
Writer (kinda)
Chef (I haven’t burned the house down yet)
Laundress (not my favorite)
Dish Fairy (definitely not my favorite)
Homework Guru (yeah right)
Book Worm
Finder of lost socks and legos

Yes, like many of you working mommas, I hold many titles. Some I love more than others. Some are the best there is in life. And I do my best to give my best to each and every one of them.

Don’t get me wrong. Ask anyone that knows me if I actually have it together enough to be able to do any of these jobs and they’ll just give you a look like you’ve dropped your basket. I don’t have it together, and after all these crazy years I can finally admit that I don’t, and that’s okay.

Why, you ask? How can it be okay that I’m not always okay? How can it be okay that I was late to work, again, because I turned my alarm off, again? How can it be okay that I missed dinner, again, because I was working late, again? How can it be okay that the laundry is piled to the rafters in the laundry room, and the sink is full of smelly day old dishes? How can it be okay that I have absolutely no idea how to help my son with his math homework, and may lose my mind trying? How can it be okay that I still can’t train the stupid, oh sorry I meant cute, puppy not to steal every single sock in this crazy house? How can it be okay that Matt Damon can grow potatoes in his own poop on Mars, but I can’t get one single plant to even think about growning in my garden? How can it be okay…well you get the picture.

There’s one title I didn’t put on the list that makes all my not okayness (yeah I made that up), okay. One title that wipes all that other craziness out and trumps any title I have or will ever hold. I am a Child of God! I serve a wonderful, Holy, Risen Savior that takes all my not okayness, and turns it into something beautiful.

Its taken a lot of hard learned lessons for me to finally see His beauty in the midst my chaos. It’s taken a lot of struggle through each and every one of my many titles to see that He is ultimately in control of them all.

I hope you’ll join my family and I on this great adventure through life, finding His beauty in the chaos. I hope that you will pray with us, laugh with us (or at us, I am the queen of unintentional entertainment), cry with us, travel with us, learn with us, and love with us. I also hope that you will share with us the beauty that God creates out of your own chaos.

Continue reading Mom’s turn