Guilt Gnaws

Mindy has caused me to examine a bit this morning.

What do I feel guilty about? Why?

I think I'm a pro at justifying. If I can justify the guilt isn't quite so heavy. Human nature loves this. But do I really need to feel guilty about the things I feel guilty about? (This post is going to be really hard to write without overusing the word guilt.)

Let's go with this morning. First offense: Dipping into the last of my $11 jar of almond butter. Eleven dollars. I could hardly walk out of the store the guilt was so heavy. An apple, almond butter, chia seed. It's my meal at least once a day. It's a ritual, really. A moment of peace. It's always eaten standing at the counter. Wash and slice the apple. Knife into the nut butter, dip into the chia, insert in mouth, bite of apple. Repeat. Meal complete. I'm done feeling guilty. Because that jar fed me nearly every day for 3 weeks. Pretty darned affordable when it's looked at that way. Justified.

Second offense. Chai latte from Dunn Bros after dropping Nolan off at school. $4.10. Gasp. This one's a bit harder to write off. Just watch me. #1, I used cash. Using a debit card for a drink is never acceptable. #2, I need the calcium. Yeah, that's a stretch. #3, It's only once a week. Hmmm. Lame. #4, I've got it. It's raining. #5, There was only a heaping teaspoon of almond butter left. I didn't eat nearly enough for breakfast. Justified.

See how this works?

Third. The tub of size 4 clothes on the purple chair. It's been there for a week. It needs sorting through. I just don't feel like it. Justified.

You know what? I don't think tangible things hold much of a guilt factor for me. I can always write them off. What's harder for me is my thoughts. My feelings. I know how I want to feel about things. And then there's how I really feel. And I seemingly have no control over it. There's where the guilt hits me.

There's the exercise demon. I literally cannot do anything more strenuous than walking right now. I hurt. Badly. I'm afraid I'm broken. That doesn't stop the hamster wheel of guilt. The liquid calories I justified up there in the Second Offense? The justification doesn't last long. Now I feel like I need to wear it off. I'd do anything not to feel this way. To eat something for the sheer joy of eating it. I'd pay for that.

I've felt the sneaky depression bastard easing his way in lately. I'm hoping it's just the weather. I'm scared that it's not. I have everything going for me. I want to be delirious with the beautiful soundness that is my life. And yet, more often than not, there's this big, gaping, dark, heavy - so heavy - hole in my chest. It's a very physical feeling. That's where the guilt is. There really are no words to describe it accurately. We've been hearing in our gospel meetings lately the importance of being babe-like. Babies don't know how to do anything but cry and that's what appeals to God. I'm very thankful for the peace that comes with just crying. Peace in knowing all our guilt is covered by Jesus. Life can be full of lemons (injury, trials, illness, illness, trials, illness, flooded basements, broken garage doors, illness, injury, blah blah blah) but it's still amazingly sweet because we have hold on something eternal. We have clarity on what's important.

Sluggards we are not.

We probably all have something we've been told since we were young. Something we hate to hear. It grates on our nerves. Quite possibly because it rings too true. For me? Slow down. Slow down. Slow down.

I'm fast. I am. A few examples:

I talk fast. Really fast. I've managed to slow down a bit over the years. I have. If I ever leave a message on our voicemail at home and listen to it later I'm always baffled. Who can understand that?

I drive fast. I brake fast. I change lanes fast. There can't be anything in my window or it slides from side to side. I make people carsick. I think. I should.

I eat fast. If you eat slow and I've eaten with you... guarantee it was painful for me. So painful. Eating slow is torturous. Plus, your food gets cold. Aside from my kids, who likes tepid food? I inhale. Oh, and this isn't the point - but if you're a girl who orders half a salad, takes half an hour to eat it and then proclaims "I'm so stuffed." - I never, ever want to eat with you. So annoying.

I run fast. This is why I could never be a long distance runner. Plodding along at 6 mph...zzzz. I run hard. 8-10 mph for a few minutes and back off to breathe. Then amp it up again. None of this painfully slow jogging thing.

I type fast. I was a rockin' awesome transcriptionist. My fingers FLY, baby. Just ask anyone with whom I have rapid-fire email response. Watching my husband finger peck is excruciating. I have to take over.

I write fast. Not sayin' it's legible. Probably why I can never reread convention notes.

I just plain move fast. Cook fast. Bake fast. Brush fast. Walk fast. Read fast. Oh, yes...I read fast. Very. And play Dutch Blitz with me. Dare ya.

Interesting thing though. I have low blood pressure. I have a low resting heart rate. So low that they generally have to take it again. So, maybe I balance myself out after all.

That brings us to the doll that is most definitely my daughter. She got a giftie from her boy crush yesterday afternoon. She colored the whole thing in 30 minutes.

Ain't no restraint for this girl. Save some for later? Why? These are cacti stained glass pictures that came from Arizona. Her exclamation as I take the picture: "It's like I'm a princess in the desert!"

She's convinced she knows all there is to know about Arizona now. Absolutely. Dad is off registering this spirited thing for Kindergarten. How did that happen? I must blink fast.

So, while I was tempted to include "learn to savor" in my resolution list - I know it's just not going to happen. It's not in me. Apparently, it's a trait I've passed on to my daughter as well. Just the other night she was eating a sucker. Like me, she can't suck them. Chew, chew, chew. All done. I resolve not to tell her to "slow down." But, of course I have to tell her something that will stay with her for life. What is it? Hmmm. "Tone it down." "Take it down a notch." "Take it down an octave." Eyiyiyiii.

Timely? Meh.

It's March. I've had some time to think about things that need resolving this year. I bring you, slightly belated, my "new year's" resolutions......

• Be less aimless.
• Focus on being present.
• Keep mouth closed to avoid the insertion of feet.
• Establish some sort of line.
• Give more. Take less.
• Talk less. Listen more.
• Chill out.

Eating Crow. Again.

I've been sick. A very lengthy bout of lethargy and malaise. Prior to that I'd put my back out. Things have gotten put on the back burner around here. Let's just briefly mention that I sanded the wrong side of our bathroom door last week. So now we have to find stain to match to redo. And I still have to sand the correct side. And paint it. And buy new hinges for the cupboards. One of which I tried to take the easy way out and use liquid sander. What a joke. The paint is already chipping off. Remember that this bathroom project started almost exactly two years ago? Mmmhmm. Sooooo. I'm feeling mighty fine today. Got up early for my ultrasound to check my spleen and kidney function. Stopped by the lab to get my blood work redone. Got home around 9:15 just in time for the delivery of my daycare kiddos. Toby takes a snooze while everyone else has a heyday playing in the boys' room. I'm having a grand time digging my kitchen out from under the layer of grime that is life. I was feeling generous and even cleaned Bait's bowl. Remember back when I said something like "I almost always know where and what my kids are doing?" That sure was foolish. Nolan spent Sunday-Wednesday in bed. Literally slept all day, every day. Last night he was coughing quite a bit in the night so I got up to give him some honey based cough syrup. Let's come back to the present. Enter Cole. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the area rug in his room. He had dumped half the bottle of sticky honey syrup on the rug and was smearing it around with his hands. Everywhere. He'd even taken a baby wipe and was trying to clean it up. Dear soul that he is. May I remind you that it's the dead of winter. And that the only way I know of to clean an area rug is to take it outside and pressure wash it on the driveway. Turns out the boys' floor is gorgeous. And it was in dire need of cleaning. And we found lots of treasures under the bed. Don't go thinking he did me a favor now. And I do realize I was the one who left the syrup out, yes. I also think I have a penchant for beginning sentences with "and." And we'll leave it at that.