I am Not Superwoman

Scanned photo from June 2003 (I think)
of Meredith and my sister Cori in their Supergirl shirts

I am not Superwoman or Wonder Woman no matter how hard I may try to be.

This morning I'd rather be going to yoga, but instead I'm nursing an injury.  Yesterday evening I was working late, answering email, and meeting with an advisee. (It's registration time at the college.  Can be a challenge fitting in advising appointments but I do so enjoy meeting with my advisees, seeing how they're doing, and helping them make plans for their futures.)  As I was leaving I was hungry, tired, and ready to go home.  I grabbed the following items: a camcorder with its accessories in a bag, a laptop with its accessories in a bag, another bag with stuff for my internship class, my school bag heavy with my intentions for working at home, and my purse (a mother's handbag with everything but the kitchen sink).  Don't know why I do it but I often load myself down like a pack mule.  Why oh why, don't I make two trips?

Can you guess what's coming next?  I was probably in a daze and in a hurry.  I got about 4 or 5 steps from the bottom, right about the place where I always have to duck my head as I am tall and could get knocked out by some kind of overhang, and I lost my footing.  So surreal.  My life may have even flashed before my eyes.  I landed face down at the bottom of the stairs on top of and surrounded by all those bags. 

My thoughts in about chronological order: OMG!  What just happened?  Oh no, did I break anything?  I can't believe I did this again.  Owww, I hurt.  Kinda glad no one's here to see this.  @#%*!  Look what I did.

I look to my right and see that I have broken a stool given to the faculty as a class gift from a master's class several years ago.  Oh @#%*!  I think that stool is made out of concrete or some such material and I have literally broken it in half.  The somewhat ironic thing is that all those bags and that stool must have broken my fall so I am happy to report I don't think I broke any bones, but I am very sore.

I will not call myself a klutz.  Doing so could be a self-fulling prophecy.  I have in the past, though, twisted both ankles and I think one of them at least twice, and broke one of my feet.  And almost every time it was due to stairs.  Some combination of being in a hurry, not watching what I'm doing (but who really does when they're going down stairs?), having big size 10 feet, going down narrow stairs, and having extra long legs compared to the rest of my body which may result in some strange center of gravity thing.

An hour earlier I was teaching my undergraduate Therapeutic Play class.  Organically, we were discussing the topic of how our own issues or whatever is on our mind can get in the way of not being able to focus on the child and give the child our full attention during our play sessions.  Perhaps I should have been paying more attention to my own words.

Each time I injure myself or get sick I realize I am not Superwoman.  No matter how hard I might try to be.  I will never live up to all the expectations I put on myself, that our culture puts on women.  I won't get everything done.  Something's inevitably gonna fall by the wayside (no pun intended).  Either that or I must learn to say No to more things.  I must slow down.  Exercise more patience.  Be kind to myself.

Incidentally, I remember loving to play Wonder Woman as a child.  I'd wrap my head in a big towel and stand on top of a round ottoman.  I'd jump down and twirl my head releasing my pretend long, curly hair and feel so invincible!  Hmmm.... I wonder if I ever fell off that ottoman?

I may not be Superwoman or Wonder Woman, but I sure think I can still be a Supergirl!

In a Funk

I've been in a bit of a funk lately.  Have felt a little blah and unmotivated and haven't felt like blogging--at all.  I'm sure there are several possible reasons for this, one of which is that it has been raining a lot off and on and we've even been under a few tornado warnings.  (In fact, one morning I was awoken at 6 a.m. to the sirens going off after I had been up late the night before finishing a novel.) 

Last Saturday, it was actually sunny so I bribed Miles to go for a walk with me despite the chilly temperature and wind outside.  I thought that being out in the sunshine might help with my funk.  Yes, I admit I bribed him with, "we can even go walk up to the gas station and get some candy," because he was enveloped with his computer and cars play at the time.  As we were walking along, holding hands, talking and enjoying our time together, out of the blue Miles said, "Mommy, I love you!"  Oh, my heart swooned.  Note to self: Must do this more often.

Here's what I know about being in a funk:

Sometimes you will be in a funk.
Even if you are a professor or a counselor or even a play therapist.
Even if you are a creative type.
It just means you gotta be extra kind to yourself.
It means you gotta make sure you get enough sleep.
It means you gotta do some of the little things that make you happy.
It means you gotta be patient with yourself.
It means you gotta work extra hard to do the stuff that must be done and forget the rest for awhile.
It means you are imperfect.

It doesn't mean you're crazy.
It doesn't mean you still can't be helpful to others.
It doesn't mean it's gonna last a very long time.

It just means you are normal.

Peace and Patience

sign at store in United Kingdom section of Epcot at Disney World

I may have been praying for PEACE this holiday season but the universe/God continues to bring lessons in patience.

Miles and I are/have been sick with different illnesses for the last 5-6 days including time that we were on vacation to Disney World = patience
Going to Disney at Christmas time means long lines = patience
Going to Disney with a slow moving 5-year-old = patience
Going to Disney with a mother in a wheelchair (due to a knee she'll have surgery on in a few days) = patience
Being in the airport 5 hours before our flight = patience

I'm reminded that I must look at the bright side of all of this.

All of us were together at different moments--my family of four, my parents, my sister and brother-in-law, and my brother-in-law's parents.
Miles being sick meant that he was super good in the airport and on the plane.
Miles being sick means lots of cuddle time.
My being sick means I've read 3 books in the last week.
My mother in a wheelchair meant that we were able to bypass long lines for some rides and her lap became a stroller for Miles.
All the people at Disney, especially from other countries, meant a spiritual feeling of connectedness at various moments.  When tons of these people left Magic Kingdom about 10:30 at night on Christmas Eve, it was cold, it started to rain and we didn't have an umbrella.  We were one, long, thick, slow-moving snake waiting to board the Monorail.  All I could do was laugh.

I've lots more to share, but that is enough for now...