Give Him Something to Look At

It's Wifey Wednesday with Sheila Wray Gregoire at To Love Honor and Vacuum. Her question this week is: "Should We Be Upset when Our Husbands Are Tempted?"

Sheila says, "Be confident. Dress attractively. Give him something to look at!...It's hard to demand that men not look at other women if we simultaneously never really encourage them to look at us."

A couple of weeks ago, I bought this shirt from Kathi Lipp at the Desire Conference in San Jose:

I wasn't sure what Daniel would think. Maybe he'd tell me to cover it with a sweatshirt? Be careful not to wear it around campus?

First time I wore it he blushed, grinned, and said, "You spoil me!" Same reaction each time I wear it.

Then I found this little number at Ross:

Unfortunately, by "little" I do mean little. It's junior sized, and the Large fits like Saran Wrap. But I figured I'd use it as workout wear.

I wore it this morning on the elliptical and got the same reaction: BIG grin followed by "You spoil me."

I plan to do more shopping...er...research, but I just may be on to something...!

Waking Up: 20 Years Ago Today

Twenty years ago today I woke up uncomfortable. REALLY uncomfortable.

Daniel and I arrived at the hospital around 8:30 AM, just the two of us.

The mother of one of my students was our nurse, and she got us into the "really nice" birthing suite where Daniel started the soothing CDs playing.

Around 11:00, the epidural arrived, and I relaxed.

Daniel fed me ice chips. Changed the CDs. Cheered me through contractions.

I wondered, "Who will she be? What will she be like?"

At 3:05, the answers began as I looked down at our tiny new bundle of life and said, "So you're the little person I've been waiting 9 whole months to meet!"

I was struck by the realization that Annemarie Elizabeth Gregory is not an extension of me or of Daniel. She is not a "mini me" but a separate, distinct individual person.

The next day, we left the hospital, all three of us.

(Here's our "baby" 18 years later, holding her "baby"!)

* * * * *

This was my first try at Five Minute Friday.

Five minutes to just write, and not worry if it’s just right or not. Kind of like how the rest of my life is at the moment.

Want to join me?

1. Write for only five minutes.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Go leave some comment love for the five minuter who linked up before you.

It’s liberating; give it a try and see!

Seeing the Positive Intention

Years ago, as a desperate newbie teacher with an out-of-control classroom, I read Jane Nelson's Positive Discipline in the Classroom. Later, as a parent desperate to prevent out-of-control children at home, I read Positive Discipline.

In both books, Nelsen points out that kids' misbehavior grows from mistaken goals, such as attention and power. Adults need to look beyond behavior and seek the child's positive intention.

So, for example, when one of my students loudly interrupts me as I'm starting class, I deal with his attention-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor his positive intention: this student wants to connect with me. I seek appropriate (and far less public!) ways to build my one-on-one relationship with the student.

Or if a student argues with me beyond what the situation warrants, I deal with the power-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor her positive intention: this student desires influence. I seek appropriate ways to mentor this student in leadership, in and out of the classroom.

Within each negative behavior hides a positive intention.

* * * * *

A few weeks ago, at my Eating Disorder support group, one of the members was returning Jenni Schaefer's excellent book Life Without Ed.

I commented that I'd found the book especially powerful in shifting my own thinking when I read it 7 years ago.

The group leader asked me if I'd seen her newest book, Goodbye Ed, Hello Me.

My glowing endorsement faded to a scowl as I acknowledge that I had.

"What did you think?" she asked.

"It made me mad," I responded.

"Why?" she pressed.

"The way she considers herself 100% recovered makes me jealous," I confessed.

"Or perhaps hopeful?" the leader suggested.

We moved on to other topics, but her unexpected juxtaposition of jealousy and hope startled me. I've been pondering it ever since.

Perhaps within every negative emotion lies a positive intention?

* * * * *

I nearly stopped on top of a freeway overpass recently. The road was dry, the sun was out. Yet as I drove up, up, up and around the overpass, sudden anxiety crashed over me. My palms broke out in sweat. My peripheral vision closed in. I slowed, breathed deeply, shook out my shoulders, and all was well. But what was that all about?

To be honest, that wasn't the first time. Over the last few months, I'd "freaked out" several times while driving on the freeway, always on the freeway while driving overpasses or major curves. I'd always maintained control of the car, but I worried about what these episodes meant.

What kind of trick was my mind playing on me and why? Was I developing an escalating anxiety disorder? Vertigo? Was I losing my ability to drive altogether?

Driving from Southern California to Monterey last Sunday, I was hit by similar panic. The torrential rain pouring down and flooded highway only made things worse. I truly "white knuckled" it as I sought an offramp. And I began to mentally berate myself.

"What is wrong with you? Why can't you get a grip? You've been driving for almost 30 years. You've done this hundreds of times before. This time is no different."

Suddenly the thought occurred to me: But what if this time is different?

What if, instead of berating my body for these "crazy" signals it's sending me, I listen? What if I believe what my sweaty hands and ringing ears are telling me: that I am in danger and my body is doing everything possible to protect me?

What if I trust that behind these negative physical reactions is a positive intention?

As I relaxed and continued on with caution, I realized that every single "episode" had occurred when I was driving a left curve. Never one to the right.

And I recalled reading in Malcolm Gladwell's Blink that our subconscious causes us to change behaviors well before our conscious mind realizes what we're doing or why.

What if the grinding "transmission" noise I'd been hearing during our 420 mile drive down to Southern California and, now–even louder–on our 420 drive back home wasn't transmission after all?

Sure enough, on Tuesday, Nissan replaced my Murano's left front wheel bearings (still under the extended warranty, thank goodness!)

Left curves and overpasses on the freeway? No trouble, now!

And hopefully in the future, I'll have less trouble seeing the positive intention, in behaviors, emotions, and even physical reactions.

In others and in myself.

"Let's Build a Marriage"

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and today's an open topic!

I'm reading Jan Silvious' new book, Same Life New Story: Change Your Perspective to Change Your Life in which she shares a life mantra: "What-might-have-been does not exist, so don't even go there."

I shake my head in wonder...and envy. I spent my childhood, teen years, and much of my adulthood in my very own "Land of Make-believe," a fantasy world in which I imagined and lived myriad "what-might-have-beens." I'm exhausted at 44 because I poured so much time and energy into living so many "alternate lives" during my 20s and 30s!

This last weekend, I attended the memorial service for a favorite high school teacher. As friends and colleagues paid tribute to "Mr. B," they recalled his favorite sayings. One phrase especially struck me: "What is, IS."

Oh, how I have resisted this! How pessimistic, how fatalistic it's always sounded to me! No, NO, NO! I will NOT accept things the way they are! I am Choleric, I make things happen, and I will make things change!

Of course, this translates to: I will make the people in my life change until they make me happy.

And the most frequent victim of my efforts has, sadly, been my husband. You know, the man I vowed to "love, honor, and cherish"...and then immediately attempted to "tweak, repair, and ultimately overhaul"!

But Mr. B experienced a peace with life that has eluded me. He was one of the most loving and giving people I've ever known, especially with struggling students. He always had a smile, regardless of how tired or obnoxious our 2nd period Pre-Calc class was being. He was a master at making do with what he had; when a Physics lab went south, he'd pull together wire, duct tape, and a spare penny and make it work.

Driving home from the memorial service, I pondered the day-to-day implications of discarding "what-might-have-been" thinking and embracing "What is, IS."

I've spent years telling myself that refusing to accept "status quo" makes me idealistic and optimistic. But the simple truth is that chasing after what-might-have-beens has left me tired and grouchy. Perhaps there's value to accepting "what is", after all?

This scene from Apollo 13 came to mind:

Square Peg in a Round Hole


Apollo 13— MOVIECLIPS.com

Notice what does not happen? Nobody spends time (and certainly not days, weeks, or months!) bemoaning the life-threatening stupidity of having to deal with a square filter and a round filter.

Nobody even points out the obvious: "We wouldn't even BE here right now trying to solve this problem if SOMEbody had thought ahead and made all filters square OR all filters round!"

Nobody sinks into victimhood, moaning, "I wish I'd never taken this job. I didn't sign up for this. I didn't realize I'd have to deal with problems of this magnitude."

What do they say?

"The people upstairs have handed us this one, and we gotta come through."

"We gotta find a way to make this fit [with] this, using nothing but that."

"Let's get it organized."

"Let's build a filter!"

"Let's get some coffee going, too, someone..."

Re-writing the dialogue a bit, I hear:

"The Man Upstairs has given us this life, and we've gotta come through.

We've gotta find a way to make you become one with me using nothing but what actually IS.

Let's figure out who's brought what to this relationship.

Let's build a marriage!"

Of course, the "us" in "let's" is far greater than just me and Daniel, no matter how "well-meaning" (my favorite phrase from Emerson Eggerichs) either of us may be.

In my optimistic, idealistic zeal to build my marriage, I chased after what-might-have-beens.

But what it really takes to "build a marriage" is accepting "What is, IS" and eagerly anticipating "what-God-is-doing."

(Getting some coffee going is a pretty good idea, too!)

He's Got the Biceps...

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis. Today's topic is "trust."

* * *

"Don't lift anything heavier than 5 pounds!" my doctor instructs me, as he writes a prescription for Vicodin and an order for physical therapy.

I leave his office, shaken. This is no muscle spasm that's gonna loosen up with some heat packs and a few massages. I've fractured T7 and herniated the discs above and below.

Healing is gonna be a v-e-r-y long haul.

That night, I need to load my car. I reach for the first box and quickly realize it's far heavier than 5 pounds.

Ask Daniel for help.

I can't do that!

Why not?

I don't want to bother him.

* * *

Not bothering anyone is a skill I've honed over the years. Make no waves. Ask for nothing. Have no needs. Take care of myself.

* * *

But that box is way more than five pounds. I can't take care of it myself. I need help.

I struggle. I stall. I finally sidle up to Daniel's door and quietly ask, "Could you help me move some boxes into the car?

He looks up, grins broadly, and says, "Sure!" He heads to the garage and begins to toss large heavy boxes effortlessly into the car.

He's wearing a black "muscle T", which gives me a fabulous view of his flexing biceps at work. Although I'm standing still, the garage temperature is rising. I'm getting a bit light-headed.

"Is that it?" he asks.

I look around for more boxes for him to lift, a bit disappointed that he's done so quickly.

As he winks, kisses me, and heads back into the house, I am struck by two realizations.

First, I have been missing out on some serious eye candy all these years! What have I been trying to prove, lifting all those stupid boxes myself when I coulda been watching in rapt appreciation?

Second, my fears about "bothering" him were clearly fantastical. What would have taken me half an hour without my injury took him five minutes. And he was happy to help. More than happy, actually...more like relieved to finally be asked to do something he's well-qualified to do for me.

Lesson learned: He's got the biceps, so trust him to haul the heavy stuff...while I stand back and watch!