Love, Bitmoji-Style

Yesterday I finally took down the tree. Yes, February is well underway, and Operation Christmas Joy has been effectively terminated. Now, onto celebrating the holiday month of hearts!

A big shout-out to Bitmoji for all of these fun cartoonized pics of Chuck and me.

Valentine's Day is coming. I saw this little quiz on Facebook, and decided to add pictures to my answers. This is mostly for me, for the memories. You're welcome to peek inside, if you are curious. I added a copy of the questions at the end, in case you'd like to copy and paste your answers for yourself. 

You're welcome.  

💟 How long have you been together? 

3 1/4 years. 

💟 Do you have any children together? 

6; 5 boys and 1 girl. We each brought 3 into our family. PLUS four amazing extra daughters, thanks to our boys’ wisdom. 

💟 What about pets? 

Bristol and Sami, our dogs. 

February 11, 2017
GOTCHA DAY for Sami and Bristol

💟 Who said I love you first? 

I bet it was me. 

💟 Who is the more sensitive? 

Chuck. 

💟 Where do you eat out most as a couple? Portillo’s and

Chianti’s Italian restaurant. 

💟 Who's older? 

Chuck, by a year. 

💟 Who has the worst temper? 

Chuck, but it’s not much of one. No one pitches a fit in our house. 

💟 Who is more social? 

Me. Definitely me. 

💟 Who is the neat freak? 

Chuck is very tidy, in general, and I go in bursts. 

💟 More romantic? 

We both think the other is. 

💟 Who is the most stubborn?

Chuck. I’m extremely flexible. 

💟 Who wakes earliest? 

Me. Thank you, insomnia. 

💟 Who's the funniest? 

Chuck, although I think I am strong contender as runner-up. 

💟 Where was your first date?

Smoky Mountains. 

💟 Who has the bigger family?

Me! 8 siblings. Chuck has 2. 

💟 Do you get flowers often? 

I used to get them pretty often, but here's the disclaimer: I made the mistake of complaining that Chuck was spending too much on flowers, and recommended cheaper places to get them. Those places are not on his way from home. My bad for ruining my sweet husband's spontaneity. As for my giving flowers, I've only given them to Chuck once. Who really needs to step up her game here?

💟 How long did it take to get serious? 

We were exclusive after two days; engaged within three weeks. 

We met in person on a Saturday. By the next Friday, we were engaged.

💟 Who was interested first? 

It was mutual. 

💟 Who picks where you go to eat? 

We decide together, but it has to be a cuisine Chuck will eat, which eliminates everything but Italian, Mexican, and American diner establishments. 

💟 Who is the first one to admit when they're wrong?

We both think we do. 

💟 Who wears the pants in the family?

We both wear pants; I let Chuck wear the bossy pants, and I wear the fancy pants. We just want each other to be happy. 

💟 Who eats more sweets?

That would be me. 

💟 Married? 

Yes. 3 years. 

💟 More sarcastic? 

I am bluntly sarcastic. Chuck is gently sarcastic. 

For the record, Chuck and I do not agree on Pee Wee Herman's level of hilarity.

💟 Who makes the most mess?

Chuck says me. 😮

💟Hogs the remote? 

We don’t watch TV much, but I am happy to report I now know how to work the remote. 

💟 Spends the most money?

I nickel and dime our bank account, and Chuck likes to buy big ticket items like the Highlander, photography paraphernalia, and iMacs. 

💟Who is smarter?

I have more degrees, but Chuck runs circles around me academically. 

💟 Did you go to the same school?

Yes, the School of Hard Knocks. Seriously, though, Chuck went to Illinois State University, and I earned my master's degree from Utah State University.

💟 Where is the furthest you two have traveled to?

Our kids live in three states; Illinois, Florida, and Utah. We divide up Chuck's vacation days between the southwest, and the southeast. Our farthest destination is Utah, a 27 hour road trip, one way.

💟 Who hogs the bed? 

Chuck hogs the blankets, but the bed sharing goes pretty well.

💟 Who does the laundry? 

Me; my favorite chore. 

💟 Who's better with the computer? 

Chuck is in IT, but when it comes to social media, me!

💟 Who drives when you are together? 

Chuck, unless we’re on a road trip, but even then, he drives the lion’s share. 

Want to fill this out for yourself to share? Here you go. 

💟 How long have you been together?

💟 Do you have any children together? 

💟 What about pets? 

💟 Who said I love you first? 

💟 Who is the most sensitive? 

💟 Where do you eat out most as a couple? 

💟 Who's older? 

💟 Who has the worst temper? 

💟 Who is more social? 

💟 Who is the neat freak? 

💟 Most romantic? 

💟 Who is the most stubborn?

💟 Who wakes earliest? 

💟 Who's the funniest? 

💟 Where was your first Date? 

💟 Who has the biggest family?

💟 Do you get flowers often? 

💟 How long did it take to get serious? 

💟 Who was interested first? 

💟 Who picks where you go to eat? 

💟 Who is the first one to admit when they're wrong?

💟 Who wears the pants in the family?

💟 Who eats more sweets?

💟 Married? 

💟 More sarcastic? 

💟 Who makes the most mess?

💟Hogs the remote? 

💟 Spends the most money?

💟Who is smarter?

💟 Did you go to the same school?

💟 Where is the furthest you two have traveled to?

💟 Who hogs the bed? 

💟 Who does the laundry? 

💟 Who's better with the computer? 

💟 Who drives when you are together? 

Kaffeeklatsch

Sometimes we all need a break from the craziness of life, a chance to decompress, and enjoy life's little pleasures while escaping life's demands, if only for a few moments. 

Each week it is my privilege to get together with my friend Susan for some good coffee and heart-to-heart talks. The Germans call this a kaffeeklatsch, which is the English equivalent of coffee + noise, or in our case, caffeine and conversation. In between the worrying we do about our moms, and our children, and our husbands, we take time out together to have a kaffeeklatsch each week, and then we set out with our cameras. (The German spelling of kaffeeklatsch is in honor of all of my grandparents who were first and second generation German Americans. Ich liebe dich.)

Meet Susan, the best kind of friend to have; honest, caring, and compassionate. Susan is a professor of English, a writer of books, a poet, wife, and mother. And I'm so glad she is my friend. 

Today, we put DRM European Cafe into our GPS, and discovered, much to our delight, that this little gem of a cafe is just a mile from my house. DRM features eastern European cuisine, and was voted "Best Polish Food" in Chicagoland in 2017 by the Daily Herald. 

Paczkis
Photo Credit: DRM EUROPEAN CAFE

Susan and I will be going back very soon to get out Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras) paczkis (pronounced pawnch-kē), which are a specialty pastry, filled with yumminess, and topped with frosting. As near as I can tell, they are a very special donut, and enjoyed just before the Lenten season of fasting begins. I've lived in Chicagoland for three years now, and I am finally going to try a paczki!

Beautiful rolling pins available at DRM. 

After our delicious coffee and complimentary cookie, we enjoyed looking at all of the interesting international foods sold at DRM, and then we drove to Baker Methodist Church to take pictures. 

We had intended to photograph the outside of the church, but it was so bitter-cold, we obtained permission to take our cameras into the sanctuary. It was so peaceful to spend time in the church, enjoying the sunlight through the stained-glass windows. 

Today has been such a nice day. I have to say, I have felt light-hearted ever since I woke up. I knew it was going to be a good day when I skipped down the basement stairs with a smile on my face, on my way to do a load of laundry. Unexplainable happiness is a wonderful thing. 

Thank you to all of you who have prayed for me, sent virtual hugs, and checked on me. I have such supportive family and friends. I wish I could have a kaffeeklatsch with each of you!

Tell Me Something Good

Some of you know I've been a little sad lately. Sweet memories make my throat tighten, and my eyes sting. I struggle to put into words how I feel. Even with medication, sleep is elusive, and I just want to stay home, and snuggle puppies all day. Comfort foods sing their siren call, and my workouts become more and more sporadic. 

Seasonal Affective Disorder? I don't have an official diagnosis, so my apologies to those of you who do, but winter is just a tough, tough time emotionally for me. It doesn't help that I live 1,400 miles east of my kids, my mom, two of my siblings, and so many wonderful friends. And it doesn't help that I live 744 west of my other mom, the other six of my siblings, and my childhood friends. 

Sigh. What's a girl to do? I've done a lot. Moped, cried, read, talked, ate, walked. Some days I hunker down, and some days I push myself out the door. I've been struggling, y'all. Poor Chuck. Poor Susan. They're trying to do the work of a whole heaping lot of other people in my life who are just too far away. 

Christmas 2016
Photo Credit: Chuck Bennorth

I wanted to be able to tell you something good today, and I finally can. I booked a flight to see my family in Utah. THAT is my biggest something good. Thanks to a very understanding husband, and friends who help with our dogs, and to my kids for gathering, so I can see the kids all together.

You want to know some other things that are good? Today is my beautiful daughter-in-law's birthday. 

Happy Birthday, Sweet Girl.

And another thing? We have snow in the forecast for the weekend. Ya-hoo. I love me some snow. I hope there is enough to go sledding, and that I can take macro shots of snowflakes, and that Chuck and I get to go for a walk in the snow. 

Today is January 31, 2018, the day of the Super Blue Blood Moon, and since I woke up at 2:30, I figured I would take advantage of the photo op, and take some pictures. Finally, around 5:15, the cloud cover thinned out enough for me to go outside to play with my camera. Any day involving photography is a pretty good day.

So many good things, now that I'm getting out of my rut. 

But wait! There's more!

Bristol is sleeping at my feet, and Sami is stretched out beside us. I drank some good German coffee this morning, and had pineapple pizza for breakfast. In an attempt to get some nutrition down my gullet, I made a yummy protein shake that tasted like a Dreamsicle. I'm meeting Sharon for a walk. I'm taking my mother-in-law out for lunch. Chuck and I are going to watch The Crown on Netflix tonight.

There's always a lot of good stuff happening, when I take the time to look for it, and take the time to make plans.

So, tell me something good. What have you found, and what are you planning? I hope there is at least one really good thing that makes you smile today.

You Are Enough

The Grouchy Ladybug is a story I read many times to my own children, and to my elementary students. Eric Carle's story is about an irascible ladybug who picks a fight with a polite ladybug, but after determining that the other ladybug is not big enough to fight her, she flies off to find someone who is. Every character she meets is bigger than the one before, and every single time, the cantankerous little insect declares, "Oh, you're not big enough!" and flies away.  

What is it about "ENOUGH" that hits a nerve with me? Depending on how the word's used, I feel calm and satisfied, or I feel threatened and anxious. Words are so powerful. I love the phrase in Sara Bareilles' song, "Brave," that says "words can be a weapon or a drug." It depends on how we say them. It depends on how we hear them.  

Consider the following: "May you always have enough. Enough time; enough food; enough love." *SIGH* Doesn't that feel reassuring? 

But whenever I hear that someone doesn't feel like they ARE enough, I feel incredibly sad. "I'm not thin enough, pretty enough, good enough, smart enough." Those comments do not have a calming effect, and have no place in our self-talk.  They make me prickle. Having enough is circumstantial, and may vary moment to moment. Being enough is existential, and should be a constant in our lives. And yet...

Several years ago, I went to counseling. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis; maybe I felt a little crazy, but I definitely needed someone to listen to me, and help me sort my thoughts. 

Each time I walked up the creaking steps of the old bank building on the corner, I would wait my turn in the little makeshift waiting area, sitting near a small book shelf with a radio softly playing the local country station, so I couldn't overhear someone else's session, I suppose. 

When it was my turn, I would enter the therapist's office, and sit on one end of the couch, making note of where the tissues were, and checking the time. I figured if I talked faster, I'd get more accomplished. I just wanted to fix myself soon, so I could feel better, and get rid of the dark cloud hanging over my head.

We would discuss my marriage, my children, my teaching; blah blah blah. Every week, for months, nothing seemed to change. I didn't feel like myself. I was dissatisfied; I was irritable; I had lost my joie de vivre. And every single week, I would be asked the same question. 

"Denise, why don't you think you're a good mother?"  

WHAT? How could she possibly think I thought that? I love my kids. They are my life. How could she think that I thought I wasn't a good mom? I have good kids, so of course, I was a good mother. How dare she? If I were so offended by her question, why did I keep going back? I suppose I thought I deserved to feel ridiculed, I deserved to feel bad. Like a whipped puppy, each week, I would return, seeking reassurance, wondering if I would ever find the answers to the unasked questions in my heart.

Toward the end of each session of her listening to me answer her questions, I could count on her to ask me the same dreaded question: "So, Denise, why don't you think you're a good mother?"  

And at the end of each session, I would defend myself, saying, "I AM a good mother." I would go home, angry, wondering why she kept harping on that. I perhaps wasn't the BEST mother, but I was no Joan Crawford/Mommie Dearest. What working mother doesn't doubt her abilities to juggle work and family? Of course, I had my concerns, but I believed I was a good mother.

One afternoon, after endless weeks of being asked this one question, I finally snapped. I'd had it. I sat up a little taller, and I leaned toward my counselor, and with a voice louder than perhaps that little radio in the waiting area could conceal, I spoke my mind.  

"I am so sick of your asking that same question every single week. Why do you keep doing that? Every time I come here, I can count on you to ask me that question. It's driving me crazy. I go home so mad every time that you ask that, which has been every single time. You must think I'm a terrible mother to keep asking me that. WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING IT?"

Slowly, she readjusted herself in her chair, and with an earnest look in her eyes, she leaned forward, and said softly, "Denise, I believe you are a wonderful mother. You truly are a good mother. I just don't think you BELIEVE that. Do you? Do YOU believe that you are a good mother?"  

I couldn't believe it. Did she seriously just ask me that again? In my frustration, I started to cry. "I AM a good mother. I have wonderful children. I KNOW I am a good mother."  A switch flipped just then. My tears were falling, unchecked. "I'm just not good ENOUGH."

Her eyes crinkled as her mouth formed a small smile. She handed me some tissues, and she patted my arm. "Now we're getting somewhere." 

It took a few minutes for me to stop sobbing. It was as if a heavy weight were lifted off of my shoulders. 

When I could speak, I told her, "If I were good enough, my children would always be happy. If I were good enough, life wouldn't be so hard for my kids. If I were good enough, my children wouldn't give in to temptations, and they would never get in trouble. If I were good enough, my children would never doubt themselves, or how much I love them. I can never be good enough." I had finally confessed my sins, and released the pain I had been carrying with me all of that dark, dark time.

As we talked, I came to understand although I allowed my children to make their own decisions, I wasn't really letting them own those choices, and the consequences that naturally followed. I was taking on too much. I needed to let them decide for themselves, and be there for them when they made mistakes. I didn't expect them to be perfect; why was I holding myself to such a high standard? It really was never about me. I had so much to learn about control, and how little I actually have.  

It has been years since than painful day. I am still learning. I understand better that I have no control over others, but I can control how I react to situations. I have come to realize that not only am I a good mother and a good person, I am good enough. My breathing slows whenever I say that. It is so comforting to tell myself that, and to finally believe it.  

Maybe you don't believe you are enough. You are; I promise. Say it with me. "I am good enough." Say it again. "I am good enough." 

We are good enough, just as we are, without changing a thing. That isn't to say we don't have goals and dreams and hopes for better things ahead. 

For now, dwell in this moment, and know that everything is going to be all right. There is goodness in this moment for you to find. You are safe. You are okay. You are good enough. Sometimes, just knowing that you are enough is enough.