Resilience and Observations

Stop and see the beauty in your life… I will do this more

Getting over fighting Beelzebub was tough stuff. Losing, maybe hell, effing yeah a bissel (a little bit) worse. It has already taken up a lot of time, effort, energy and wellness for me, my Mrs., my kinder (kiddo’s) and the wonderful people who were helping me scrimmage. Still, my glass, it stays half-full. If there was an award for, ‘Most Resilient,’ this one would definitely go to me. Knock me down, and I come right back up again. Spunk, integrity, and Energizer Bunny. Pliant, flexible and rebellious. That’s me.

In this latest round of rebound, I am working on being present and mindful. Here are five things that I have noticed in myself

  • Currently, I can go batshit crazy frustrate easily. I’m aware of this and determined not to take it out on others. But, no lie, I have channeled my inner Mohammed Ali, and I punched the roof of my car when driving this week (technically, I was at a red light). Like texting, no punching and driving. Not at all smart. This helps no one. Not my hand, not the car. Not my emotions.

In Yiddish, they say, Bad temper and anger, they shorten the years. Der ka’as un der tsoren farkirtsen di yoren.

So, I must do more tai chi and learn to meditate. Stat! Plus, the anger is just sadness in disguise.

Tai Chi during sunrise, good. Punching roof of the car, bad.
  • Sleep, not so hotsy-totsy. I can fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Staying asleep — a whole other animal! I get up to pee. I try to make my way back into bed. I have to push aside a Little or a Big, who has usurped my precious, yet small mattress real estate yes they are all in the bed, and I am at the very edge, practically outside the apartment. Reclaim my swatch of the blanket. Find my special neck pillow. By the time I do this, Gatsby, he makes his way over with his waggity tail and kissy, shana punim (face).  I finally try to get my head to the pillow and arrange my neck in good fashion. Don’t you know, now my brain, it begins to churn with thoughts and activity. With this, I am hopeful that this Yiddish Proverb holds true:

Kirtser geshlofen, lenger gelebt. Translated to, The less you sleep, the more you get out of life. 

A nice positive spin on fricking insomnia. Nu? Leave it to Yiddish! Oh, how I love this juicy language!

  • If you (and by you, I, of course, mean me) experience a hot flash while blow-drying your hair as I did today, it feels as though you are sitting in a steam room, grabbing a nice shvitz (sweat), while doing hot yoga (like my Mrs.) inside a convection oven, in August, in Florida. The hair simply will not dry (it re-wets itself from the inside, underneath, out!) I am more than a little concerned — It is quite possible, that me, and me alone — I am responsible for global warming. Forget the cows farting methane.  “THIS GIRL IS ON FIRE” is my anthem! She’s just a girl and she’s on fire… Oy vey! (OMG!) How does Alicia Keyes know so much about me? Nu? PS, this was lovely during winter.

A fool doesn’t age and cold water doesn’t spoil. A nar vert nit elter un kalteh vasser vert nit kalyeh.

Yiddish! Beautiful… a phrase for every life moment!

  • I am slowly reconnecting with the people that I have knowingly detached from —  my own feelings of shame and self-worth caused this silence. And what I have learned this week, a friend is a friend is a friend, as a rose by any other name, would be a rose… If you haven’t heard from me yet, you will. Or if you call, I will answer, and explain the battle that has tied me up.

To fall down, you manage alone but it takes friendly hands to get up. Falen falt men alain, ober oifsuhaiben zikh darf men a hant fun a freind.

Thank you dear friends. ❤

Oh how we have fun with SnapChat. And my Mrs., oh how she laughs!
  • Nothing, and I mean bupkis (nothing) makes me happier than seeing my family happy and hearing their laughter. Those priceless giggles that stem from deep inside, fill my heart with joy and simultaneous calm. I must crack the code on this one, bottle it and imbibe daily. And if I do? I will share the tonic.

Happy mamas, and an easy upbringing. Freylekhe mames, un a gringe hodevaniye. 

So true!

And I continue to move onward! Karma will win in the end. It must! As for resilience, I must figure out the lesson to be learned here. It’s a bit tiring to keep reinventing the wheel.

An ounce of luck is worth more than a pound of gold. Besser a loit mazel aider a funt gold.

      

   

Sleep! My Sunday Photo

Peaceful coexistence
Peaceful coexistence

Gatsby is clearly on the lookout for Little or Big, before he goes shluffy (to sleep).

When a lion is sleeping, let him sleep. Az a leybt shloft, loz im shlofin.

Linky’s:

pebble_zps8ecf6b7b

sundaylge-e1396359989177

Bedtime, in 4 hours or less

It somehow energizes them...
It somehow energizes them…

I know, you’ve been thinking, Lisala, it’s been so long since you shared your parenting perceptions and insights. Sure, a nice rant, a beautiful pic, sweet tender mishpocheh (family) moments. Today, we revisit bedtime. How on earth do you get the kinder to gai shluffin (the kids to go to sleep)? Well my readers, I offer you our thoughtful child rearing insights, in the form of a song. Hum along if you like, to the tune of Let It Be, you know, by the Beatles:

 

When I find myself in need of slumber

Trying to act sensibly

The whole world feels chaotic, fretfully

Retiring Big and Little takes too long

I doze off first expectantly

The kinder, they’re nocturnal, devilry

Empathy, empathy

Empathy, come and see

What, like our bed is the only bed on earth?

Their own room is so beautiful; come and see

 

I wake up to the sound of squealing,

Maidelahs have taken all control

The Mrs. voice is loudly fuming, testily

I muster up some words of wisdom

Pleading with veracity

Yet my babble is not in sentences, regrettably

Remedy, remedy

Remedy, eventually

We need a two bedroom like we need a luch in kop (hole in the head)?

They’ll sleep in their own bedroom, eventually

 

My Mrs., she chortles at my jabber

The kinder loudly laugh and giggle

Reveling in my senseless banter, splendidly

Minutes have slowly ticked to hours

Empty threats thrown about with leniency

We’re a helpless parent fail, professedly

Sleeplessly, sleeplessly

Sleeplessly, hopefully

Other kids go the fuck to sleep without such a gantseh megillah (long drawn out story)

Tomorrow night will be so much better, hopefully

 

Sleeplessly, sleeplessly

Sleeplessly, hopefully

Other kids go the fuck to sleep without such a gantseh megillah (long drawn out story)

Tomorrow night will be so much better, hopefully

 

Well, you know what they say:

Der shlof iz der bester dokter. Sleep is the best doctor.

Is there a doctor in the house? Oy vey iz mir.

 

Linky’s:

bbposts

#FabFridayPost Linky

Friday Frivolity button

stay-classy-badge1-finalfinalfinal1_zpsawvjkfz9

Featured Image -- 1048

IMG_2753_zpsscovh0ri

chucklemums

eatsleepblogrt_zpspxcphlyk

part-flower-final

unnamed

 

 

Moments in the dead of night

image

It seems like I have 4 kinds of moments in the wee hours of the night. Sleep interrupted.

  1. Manor moments: aka, the walls, they have ears. Our mystery (I wouldn’t know them if I fell on top of them) neighbors that live directly above us in apartment T4, lead a very, well ‘er, active late-night existence. Such ‘fiery devotion’ for each other; Oy how I fear Valentine’s Day! Usually the, uhhh dance, begins with some very loud and disruptive rap music. Rap music? Mind you, this is unsettling to us…Little and Big awaken and are scared. The , kaynahorah, she has a temper…and can bang and yell at the ceiling. The love shack above? They are very pleased with their musical selection, and let’s say, the shtupping begins. Mittendrinnen, the Mrs. is frantically searching Spotify, seeking a LOUD lullaby for the kinder. This to both mask the verbose, verboten vocabulary shared amongst the passionate paramours overhead and quash the questions der kinder may ponder as to what may be occurring. This we don’t need at 1-something am on a school night. A bei gezunt…they should live and be well!
  1. Shpilkas specials: These are those dreaded times when the bladder, she calls, and calls, and calls. And during at least one of these nightly treks, my brain awakens with whatever I fear most, at that very moment. Bills, pain, family, disease, work, politics, life, death–in any random order. So the brain, she keeps revving…the baggage under the eyes grows and morning sets in well before sleep. And, as they say, you can’t outrun the moon. I just get up and do. A bissel more sleep each night, I could hope for. But, you get what you get, and you don’t get upset. 
  1. Points of Pain: The 2:12 am tap on the shoulder. Like I should be so lucky; it’s more a mad kick to the back of the head. My heart, it pounds like Poe’s Telltale Heart. I look over to the , to Little and Big, certain they will stir from the sound of this thumping. This flare up places my kishkas in over drive. At once, tiny beads of sweat form over my entire body. Neck mobility is gone. Every move hurts. The weight of my head on my shoulders is too much to bear; yet somehow, I must make it to the bathroom. Everything inside my body wants to escape the pain in any way it can. North. South. Usually both. No medicine stops it. I reach for my remote control (occipital stimulator) and increase the velocity of my bionics. I’m pleading with the pain to lessen. It’s my “Please, no…please, no” dance. (For laypeople without chronic pain, imagine the dance you do when you use someone’s toilet and it’s about to overflow. That’s the best I can do…) Will I make it through this episode? Will the meds work? Will I be horizontal and dehydrated for days? Will I miss work? Miss life? How much time will I not get back. I may speak a lot of Yiddish, but for me, I get no comfort from prayer. My iPhone-G has no connection. 
  1. Kinder Naches: Little and Big, they still sleep with us. Don’t get me started on sleep, or lack there of…it’s the mantra of parenthood. But sometimes, I wake up in the night and just observe the quiet beauty of the kinder and the I hear the faint sounds of their breath, see the expressions on their faces; realize the joy I take in from these three. My muses. It’s a mitzvah. I lay back down. I smile. I sleep again. Clearly, this is my very favorite of the foursome.

Someday, I’ll have a good night’s sleep. But for now, there’s plenty to do in the waking hours. Moments of good health, moments of not so much. Here’s to a great day!

 

Follow my blog with Bloglovin, or right here on WordPress!

 

 

It’s Bedtime, by Santa

bed 2

Dear Big, mostly Little

It’s Santa you see

To talk about something not so great

Can it be?

 

By day you are both so mighty, so strong

I was hoping this nightfall report was all wrong

By watching, I noticed the shtick and the struggles

For Ema and Mommy who only want snuggles

 

bed 1

Those 8 crazy nights flew by without a tussle

But Santa you know, has so much more muscle

My powers cover the actions of naughty and nice

You may just get gornisht; you’re rollin’ the dice

 

By mail I’ve read of the things on your lists

Your chutzpah dear kinder must cease and desist

Something must change when you climb into that bed

A time filled with shpilkes and unneeded dread

 

Please know shaineh maidels, that I’ve got your number

After brushing and flossing and primping for slumber

When the last pages of book is read and completed

Your Mommies, the neighbors, are all quite depleted

 

Kicking and screaming is never okay

It’s a shandeh especially at this time of the day

You must stop the geshrei-ing and crying you see

And drinking so much that you just have to pee

bed 3

I know you’re not hungry; your belly is fine

Your eyes do not hurt; oh jeez, stop that whine!

Even boogers need rest at the end of the day

So leave them alone in your nose, okay?

 

Life in the Manor was quiet, serene

Before you two pishers came on to the scene

From now on kinderlech, no more meshugener making

Or your tchatchkes and presents will be mine for the taking

 

Be little mensches, close your eyes and gey schluffen

Leave the rumpus behind and there’ll be no more noodgin’

Nod off, conk out, cop some z’s, that’s my wish

Bubelah’s please, tuches ahfen tish!

Follow my blog with Bloglovin