Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Constipation Nation

Who knows if that's true.  Are we a constipated nation--I don't know....but we eat a lot of garbage so probably.  But, I live in a constipated nation under my roof  here in good old Grand Rapids.  I really can't believe I'm writing about this but it's on my mind constantly and is teaching me a lesson (I think). 

I'm good.  It's my little girl. She just has a really hard time doing the whole bathroom thing and it's leading to some other medical issues that will require some specialists and derailing potty training and stressing this mommy out.  It's not just your run-of-the mill break out the prune juice and voila situations either......a bit more difficult which equals a bit more frustrating. 

And here's the thing, I'm really good at setting up camp in my problems and not looking anywhere else but the huge camp-fire that's right in front of me even though the rest of the scenery is really quite beautiful and perfect (I can't even believe I just used a camping metaphor.....as the saying on my entry-way bulletin board goes, "I love not camping.") I have a terrible case of tunnel vision and even though I work really hard to break out of that it's hard to quit cold turkey.  My husband is good at reminding me about the P word--perspective.  And I always take his reminders with a kind smile and warm embrace. 

But really, they are good reminders.  And even though many times I respond with some below-the-belt comment I do think about what he says (I do Chris...I really do). Perspective is good.  It's necessary.  It's crucial to being a better person, wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend.  I have so many friends with so many painful kid experiences; experiences that are hard to comprehend even existing through and when I think about them I feel foolish for my lack of perspective.  I'm not saying my situation isn't real or frustrating or hard and that I feel bad for Georgia and sometimes even bad for myself because it creates some stress in our house but I need to have perspective.  I need to understand from the get-go what my "thing" really means and what it doesn't. 

And I think there is something bigger at stake here too.  I believe that children become what they see...sometimes even what they don't see...what they infer too.  And it has become so clear to me just how much children "see," even when I think I'm being so sneaky and stealthy.  If my daughter observes me flipping out over (for the most part) pretty minor things in the grand scheme of life and becoming paralyzed by them, talking about them incessantly, feeling down about them, or whatever my worry wart self is prone to do I think there's a real risk she'll adopt that as her behavior as well.  Not okay with me.  She is one of the happiest kids I've ever met. Even when I know she is in pain, she's happy.  I don't want to think that I can take that away from her because of  my "worrying-lack-of-perspective-ways."

So...that's the lesson I hope I'm learning through all of this "crap" (ha) we're trying to figure out right now.  When we came home from an hour and a half doctor's appointment yesterday I put on our new favorite song (you should really listen to it if it's not already your new favorite too), turned it up really loud, and we danced.  Georgia and I dance at least once a day.  We dance crazy all over the house and usually fall in a heap onto the floor after .  It makes her happy, it makes me happy.....it makes me think about what's good and happy and fun....it puts things in perspective. 

Georgia turns her camera on me......

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