My Ultimate Authority... Lessons Learned from Sue Monk Kidd

To write what I learned from Sue Monk Kidd's The Dance of the Dissident Daughter would be another book in itself. Period. But here are the highlights, the select few that are not necessarily the most important wisdom I came away with, but ones I think are the easiest to express here and now.

Now I've Gone & Said "Ifs, Ands, or Buts." Who Am I?

We took our 4-year-old daughter to watch our city's local fireworks Monday night. It was her first time to see fireworks and I was almost as excited as she was about sharing such a special moment. I loved fireworks as a child; heck, I still do.

So we arrive at our viewing point, the local community college. We find a spot on the concrete stairs. We'd have preferred the grass but earlier it'd rained just enough. Another family with a little boy was seated a few steps above, and he and Shannon struck up a conversation almost immediately. Within minutes they bonded over their overprotective parents, both of whom kept telling them to stop swinging on the railing. This kept her entertained since we'd arrived about 20 minutes early, which was all well and good. Until I told her she needed to come sit with us since the fireworks were about to start.

To which she replied with an emphatic stomp and a stubborn, "No, Mom. I wanna sit with my friend."

Erasing the Bad Words

I'm trying not to say "no" and "stop" and "don't" all the time.

To my daughter, that is. As in, "Don't dump all your crayons out," and "Stop getting your blueberry muffin all over the floor," and "No, you can't help me peel the boiled eggs."

I realize how lucky I am to have a healthy, happy 3-year-old.  My work with the American Cancer Society introduced me to too many parents who aren't so fortunate, and not to sound cliche, but sweating the small stuff is a waste of precious time. What's a few crumbs on the floor in the grand scheme of things, anyway?

So in the past two weeks, Shannon has played in all-purpose flour, glittered the kitchen with her craft project, glued a bit of carpet together in my office, and assembled a book of torn-out pages from a spiral notebook. Oh yes, and just this morning we listened to christmas music. In return, I've got gluey paw prints across the back porch, glitter in the bottom of my coffee cup, and "giblets" of paper throughout the house (by the way, thanks to Mrs. Russell for giving them a name).

And it's okay. Better than okay --- she's happier, and I'm happier. Sure, I'll have "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" stuck in my head for the rest of the day. And of course, I can't erase every "no" and "stop" and "don't" from my vocabulary. No, you can't lick the spoon when there's raw eggs in the batter. Stop swinging that necklace before you smack yourself (or me) in the face. Don't go wake up your Daddy before his alarm goes off.

But so far I'm doing pretty well. In fact, I think I'll let her peel a boiled egg today.

"I Look Terrible in that Picture"

Over the past few days, I've listened to women complain about (among other things): fat thighs, bathing suits, big bellies, saggy breasts, double chins, triple chins, quadruple chins...

And the phrase heard 'round the world: "I look terrible in that picture."

Why do women do this?  You'll never hear a man (or not a straight one, anyway) say, "Look how jiggly my arms look in that shirt." For the love, ladies, we aren't perfect creatures, and we certainly don't look like airbrushed supermodels when posing for snapshots. News flash: we're not supposed to!

Last week I had the chance to visit three of my very best friends. We're spread out across three states, but somehow managed to meet and make a day of it. We took pictures like crazy: at lunch at El Girasol, in front of a gym downtown, and leaning over a fence after feeding horses. We didn't set up a glamour shot session -- we captured the moment, lots of moments, of the wonderful day when we all played hooky and managed a last-minute "play date."

We all snap pictures to capture a moment -- a memory. A grandmother with her great-grandchild; a sister's birthday; a mother with her 3-year-old daughter.

Yes, I'm guilty of it, too. But lately I'm more and more aware of the impression I'm making on my daughter. Right now she loves being in front of the camera -- with a follow-up, "Let me see! Let me see!" squeal after each shot. But every time she hears me or another woman complain about cankles or a belly pooch, she marches one day closer to the moment she, too, says:

"Yuck, I look terrible."

So last week I kept her in mind while we snapped those pictures, all 200 of them. And instead of focusing on whether or not I'd sucked in my gut, I looked to see if my level of happiness (which was off the charts) was reflected back at the camera. It was.

And guess what? I'm satisfied with every single one.

We are constantly bombarded about body image and the effects of the media on our self-esteem, so much so that it's become white noise. But it's never too late to start appreciating ourselves, especially in the meaningful moments we are lucky to capture.

So the next time there's a picture in front of you, for the love of all things pixelated, please think before you look at yourself and mutter the words, "Ugh."

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Surrounded | An Original Poem

Uncomfortably warm in my grandmother’s 

home, sitting down to an old lady’s 

dinner of green beans, corn bread and chicken 

casserole. Nothing salted. 

I am surrounded by the women 

who’ve created me, all talking 

at once about who was saved at this Sunday’s 

service, last night’s Lifetime movie 

and weight.

Always weight. 

They compliment my cousin for her loss and 

Grandmother says her neck looked fat 

in a recent picture. 

The dishes are loaded, pots are 

washed, put away. The cards come out and 

they play, slapping at a ten of 

hearts, yelling I want that! 

while silently, actually 

wanting what the other has. 

Her smaller nose or delicate 

hands or her red hair or curly hair or 

her olive skin and always ― always ― her 

thinner waist.  I am bound 

by the women who’ve created me

because I, too, covet 

what the other has. Her courage ― to command 

a life with Paige that 

makes her happy. Her intellect ― to express 

herself in both Spanish and English. Her 

resilience ― to rear 

seven children in 

nine years. Her happiness ― to revel in life despite 

a lifetime of arthritis. 

And her strength ― to hold tight to 

a little girl’s hand as the

cancer won.

Chocolate oatmeal cookies, pink

salad, diet coke, divinity. The games

continue.

I am entangled in the women who’ve 

created me. I am 

surrounded.

Playground or Prison | An Original Poem

Ladder!  Yellow slide!  Rock wall!  See-saw!
A little girl swings as she laughs!  Higher!  Higher!


Metal fence.
Wood pile.
Storage shed.
Sod.
A father sweats
pushing
a mower.
Around
and around.

My Favorite Movie Scenes

I sing to Shannon most every night, and usually recycle the same songs over and over.  'Somewhere Over the Rainbow,' 'You are My Sunshine'...  just to name a few.  A few nights ago as I was singing 'The Way You Look Tonight,' I thought of the first time I heard the song.  My Best Friend's Wedding is one of my favorite movies, largely due to the scene where Dermot Mulroney's character sings this song to Julia Roberts' character on the boat.

Which got me thinking... What are some other favorite movie scenes?  You know, the ones that really pull at the gut and (usually, since I'm a cryer) bring tears to the eye.

So I compiled a list, and it seems they all deal with love, different types but still, all about love.  I'm pretty certain that as soon as this is published I'll think of a title that should've been included, but oh well.  Just leaves room for a sequel.

So in honor of Valentine's Day tomorrow, here are my top five, all-time favorite movie moments.



(5) Bruce Almighty

If you've never said a prayer like this, consider yourself lucky. Enough said.






(4) Steel Magnolias

Although the most famous scene in the movie by far is M'Lynn's meltdown, I think the most touching is the one where she sits holding her daughter Shelby's hand as she dies. The only clip I could find is the complete hospital scene, which is more than seven minutes long, but from 4:30 through 5:30 is the part I'm speaking of.

Warning: grab a tissue before you hit play.






(3) Chasing Amy

Probably the most outstanding profession of love. Ever.





(2) My Best Friend's Wedding

This came out when I was in high school, and I remember distinctly my friend Andrea seeing it in the theater and being angry that it didn't have a happy ending.  But I enjoy this movie, not only for the comedic timing of Rupert Everett (who kinda steals the show) but as I mentioned before, for this scene below.  Simple and powerful.





(1) Love Actually

My favorite clip from my favorite movie.  The hug between (step)father and son portrays the true love story, the relationship between Sam and Daniel.  (Click to play if the arrow doesn't appear)

Sam Runs After Joanna
Love Actually at MOVIECLIPS.com

So there you have it, my all-time favorite movie moments.  I'd love to hear yours!