All of those minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years were opportunities. Opportunities lost. The weight of what I haven’t done sits on my chest, not like one elephant, but a whole herd.

The disgust, anger, and disappointment in myself blinds me, my arms are outstretched trying to sense where I am. Where do I go from here?

You may be in the same situation in your own life. Maybe it’s a failed marriage, a mind-numbing job, a mountain of debt, an unhealthy lifestyle, or a soul-gripping vice. Whatever it may be in your own life-whatever the weight is that holds you down-there are two directions in which you can go.

One is down. Down into a spiral of nothingness. The place where our dreams die. The dark and winding descent is a crumbling series of steps. Each poor choice we make, another step crumbles away that either sends us into a free fall or careening  against the walls on our way down. Each treacherous step down sends us further into insignificance with nothing to grab onto.

There are no voices but our own. Our frantic breaths echo off the deteriorating walls that lean in on us. It gets harder to breathe as we descend, the pressure of the choices we have made squeezing back.

Or…

We can choose to go up. As we look up, a steep climb looms above us. However, we can see that there are tiny landings along the way. Determined, we push ourselves to take a step. Then another. Through the pain of our climb-toward our goals, our wants, and our desires-we finally reach one of those landings. It is just big enough for our two feet and for us to catch our breath. We look down at those massive steps we just climbed and see how far we’ve come. Our chests begin to swell, the weight not as heavy, as we realize how hard we worked to get here. No one did it for us. We chose this and we did it. Feeling lighter, we turn our eyes upward again.

We see that the steps ahead of us are just as steep as they were in the beginning but now we are stronger. The size of our climb still intimidates, but it is not enough to discourage. As we climb again, we feel a warmth envelope us, curling around us like a thousand hugs born from the sun. It holds us yet at the same time, pushes us onward and upward. Voices trickle down to us from somewhere above. The higher we climb, the louder they get.

You are doing great!

I’m here for you.

You can do it!

I believe in you!

Something spectacular starts to happen. That warmth begins to radiate from within ourselves, our own light begins to shine brighter and brighter. As we reach another landing and catch our breath again, we hear more voices but this time they are below us. We look down and see that there are others climbing the same steep steps. We see they are struggling, just like we had.

Our warmth surges toward them and we beckon them on, encouraging them to keep going. We may even stop and go down to pick up those who have stumbled. Together, we will keep climbing. Celebrating. Cheering. And getting to where we want to go. And becoming who we want to be.

The warmth of others, the “suns” in our lives, help give us direction. We may stumble, we may fall, but the warmth of other “suns” reaches down and picks us up when we need it most.

I say forget the stars. Reach for the sun.

Thank you for being someone’s sun.

Thank you for being my sun.

Someday, I hope to shine bright for someone else.

XO,

Hallie

{Middle photo credit: deviantART/lostandfoundme}

I also wanted to start giving books on special occasions. Amy Davis, my parenting workshop leader, inspired me to do this. She gives a book to her kids on a holiday and she writes a special message in it. I thought how wonderful to commemorate a special day and to make your kids feel special. So I am copying her.

On Monday, I went to Target for all of my Valentine’s supplies and the books I found were so perfect that is was almost spooky. Since I decided to shop the day before Valentine’s Day, the end shelves were pretty much void of any heart gushing books. Then I glanced to the left, I saw the children’s hardcover books all lined up. It was going to have to do. At a quick glance, the old standards were there and my kids had many of them. I needed something new with love as the theme and that each of my kids, who range from six to twelve years old, could relate to.

But author Marianne Richmond came through. I had never seen her books before and I found three right away that stole my heart. And the crazy thing is, each one of her books pertained to the relationship I had with each child at this exact moment in time.

The one I chose for my daughter, who is twelve and is in her first year at middle school, is I Believe In You. It speaks from the mother’s point of view and talks about bravery, confidence, achieving goals, dealing with failure, struggling to fit in, etc. It was perfect. It’s all the things you want to cheer from the sidelines of their life.

The next book, I Love You So…, was for my oldest son. He is a middle child through and through. The mother tells the son all the ways she loves him and how much, even when he does naughty things. I read this in the kitchen with him after school since we didn’t have time before. I couldn’t get through the last couple of pages because of my tears. Our relationship is a tough one because we butt heads quite often and I always feel that he thinks I don’t love him as much as the others. He tends to be in trouble more and doesn’t always understand that love is unconditional. This book was perfect for us. I can’t wait to read it again with him snuggled in his bed and hold him tight.

The last book, If I Could Keep You Little, was for my last little guy who is six. I tell him all the time, “No more growing up! Stay six forever.” He is a snuggler, a firecracker, funny as hell, smart as a whip, and the coolest six-year-old I know. I would freeze him right now if I could. So this book was absolutely perfect. The last line is great, the mother says, “If I could keep you little, I’d keep you close to me. But then I’d miss you growing up into who you’re meant to be!”

Talk about rip your heart out. I love, love, love each of the stories and how they relate to each of my children so perfectly right now.

I wrote in each of their books a little message with the date. I want them to look back and remember this time in their lives. Perhaps a little note from Mama will make that moment stand out just a little more. 

Marianne Richmond resides in Minneapolis-yay for the Midwest! Her story is inspiring and it just goes to show that you gotta do what you love. And not only does she just write the stories, she illustrates them. What a creative soul! I highly recommend her books for you and your children. (They should come with a little hanky.)

For more info about Marianne, check out her website at http://www.mariannerichmond.com and on her Facebook page.

I hope your Valentine’s Day gave your heart a little pitter patter as well. Love is lovely, isn’t it? 

XO

Hallie

A few months ago, my husband wanted to watch the movie Hall Pass because he had heard it was hilarious.

Uh, no. Not funny at all. Dear God! I felt the few precious brain cells I had left popping like bubble wrap in a room full of kids as I watched this modern day Porky’s. Okay, I MAY have laughed once, at the pool scene when two naked men came running out of the gym locker room to help Owen for some forgettable reason. One was a large black man and the other an Irishman. You can guess the wee (bwah!) joke. The movie actually pissed me off. I was ready for funny and all I got was this stupid movie.

And that wasn’t the first time I hadn’t laughed at a very popular “hilarious” movie. I LIVE for hilarious! Here goes…[whispering] I didn’t think The Hangover was funny. I KNOW…I may be the only person on the planet that didn’t cry laughing at that one. Maybe it was because I’d never been to Vegas and don’t get the whole “What happens in Vegas” hoopla. Who knows.

The Descendants was a more recent movie I didn’t “get”. It was supposed to be a tragic comedy, I think. All that came across to me was pathetic. I really wanted to like George Clooney’s character but he was blah. I KNOW! I never thought George could be blah, but he was. The kids were annoying. The only thing I really liked about it was the film setting in Hawaii; I’d have rather watched wave after wave crash onto a pristine tropical beach for two hours than have watched this movie’s plot drown in shallow waters.

And it hasn’t been just the movies. This has also happened with a book or two. I read The Hunger Games series over the holidays and I was left scratching my head. I didn’t hate it but I also didn’t get what the big whoop-dee-do was either. Was it because of the dystopian theme and that it was a bit far out of my normal reading zone?

What is wrong with me?! Am I out of touch? Am I a stick in the mud? How am I not “getting” it? It sort of feels like I am a Hereford in a herd of Holsteins and don’t understand what all of the mooing is about.

I have tried to self-diagnose and the best thing I’ve come up with is that I have to be in the right mood in order to enjoy a certain movie or book. Like I shouldn’t read depressing material when I am in a jovial mood. I shouldn’t watch slapstick when I am feeling serious. I shouldn’t read dystopian when I really need a happy ending. I think to be the most objective, I need to be in the right frame of mind…ready…prepared. But I also just need to be true to myself by not trying to shove my squareness into a round hole. Having a different opinion than others is healthy but what does it mean when it is different than E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E?

Have you ever hated a movie/book EVERYONE AND THEIR DOG proclaimed was the best ever? How about loved and everyone else hated? Tell us which ones.

Does it give you a complex? What is your theory? Are we independent thinkers or just plain wacko? Ditzy and don’t know it? Cute but clueless? Independently ignorant?

Let the therapy session begin…