Two {tough} Solutions for My Every Day Jealousy

I felt the familiar, gnawing feeling as I skimmed the college newspaper article.

The story was about some precious college senior who had just published her FIRST NOVEL, some little "love story" with a cute title. The cover of the book was pictured, showing an 18 year old beauty who was looking pensively off into her perfect future. So predictable....I wanted to gag. My lips twisted into a sneer and I rolled my eyes.

Then I sighed, feeling defeated....because I hated how I felt at that moment: Crazy, stupid jealous.

Wow. She wrote a novel. Good for her, seriously! I'm thirty...! And I haven't even done that. 

And I'm insanely jealous of that fact. Yep, I've been bitten...no, devoured by that green-eyed monster (Thank you, Shakespeare for providing perfect metaphors for my basest feelings).

If I'm really honest with myself, I get jealous a lot.

I'm jealous of:

• Women with recent highlights and pedicures
• People who sleep through the night (like my husband)
• My students (college students) with their stylish outfits and perfectly curled hair
• Blog posts that go viral ("I could have written that"!)
• Mom friends who have flat tummies
• People who get to nap everyday (like my two year old)
• My English colleagues who get to travel and present their papers at conferences 
• People who get to eat a full meal without nursing a baby, filling milk cups, mopping spills, or picking up dropped (or thrown) forks. 
• My single friends who get to do fun adult-things, like road trips

And MOST OF ALL....I am jealous of my husband's ability to fall asleep anywhere at anytime (the sleep jealousy is real, my friends).

Most of my jealousies are petty and fleeting--after all, I am not a 19 anymore with the luxury of thirty minutes of hair-curling time. I don't really care about pedicures that much. And, let's face the facts...I've had four kids, including twins. There are some things that crunches will not fix.

But my other jealousies bother me, like the fact that I disparaged a fellow-writer's success when I read that newspaper article. I should have rejoiced for her...but I couldn't because I was so stupid-jealous of her.

The truth is, I had no right be be jealous of her because she had done the work...and I hadn't.
I had an ah-ha moment. There are just two solutions to my every day jealousies:

I can be jealous of women who have flat stomachs and toned arms....or I can Do The Work and start exercising.
I can inwardly sigh about about my pathetic social life...or I can text a friend and make plans to get together.
I can mope about the success of other bloggers...or I can steadily work on my own blog because consistency and commitment come before success.

I can Do The Work.

But sometimes, I am jealous about things I can't change....so I have to be content.

I may be jealous that the girl I went to grad school with just presented a paper at an amazing Jane Austen conference...but I have a newborn and conferences are not realistic right now.
I may feel a twinge when I see friends with their daughters...but I can choose to be content with my 4 wonderful, beautiful sons.
And I may want to smoother my husband with a pillow when he falls asleep in 2.3 minutes on the couch...but I can choose to be content with a 30 minute rest before the baby wakes up to nurse (And I really don't want to smoother my husband. I really like him. I am just really tired...Sleep-jealousy. It's real).

So after throwing my jealousy-fueled pity-party about my lack of literary success at the ripe old age of thirty, I decided to crack open an old file entitled "Story Ideas" and actually, well...Do The Work.

Doing the Work or Being Content is hard...but it feels a whole lot better than being jealous, right?

What about you? What makes you crazy-jealous? 
Which is harder: Doing the Work or Being Content?
How do YOU handle every day jealousy?  

If you're heartbroken on New Years Day...hold on.

I wonder if God peers into our man-made New Years traditions, and in his omniscience says to himself, "Oh, dear child, this year...this year you will grow so much. I only wish I could spare you the pain of such growth. Hold on...I am with you."

On January 1st 2014, I spent the day in the bathroom, praying and crying and telling myself that this was not happening, that I was not having a miscarriage.

Happy New Year, right? All my hopes, expectations, and plans for the year were shattered. All I could think was, "No new baby in August. No new baby. No baby."

The only verse that brought me any sense of comfort during this time was this:

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me..."

You are with me. 
You are with me.
You are with me. 

THAT was the only guarantee I had for 2014.

Now it is January 1st 2015. As I look back at last year, I am amazed at how my miscarriage shaped my whole year, overwhelmed with the good that was directly related to my miscarriage. In fact, this heartbreaking experience even fulfilled desires of my heart in three specific areas: Counseling, Volunteering, and Writing.

Interestingly, at one time, I was going to pursue a Masters Degree in counseling (I even took a Statistics class in preparation for grad school. eek!). My own grief allowed me to help others grow and heal by becoming a peer counselor to women who were walking through the grief of miscarriage, still birth, and infertility. I have grown so much in knowledge, compassion, empathy, and sympathy by being a co-leader of this group.

The grief group is under the umbrella of The Motherhood Collective, a non-profit organization in Lynchburg whose purpose is to "Nurture the Mother to Grow the Child." I had secretly wanted to be a part of the leadership of this organization in a "that'd be really cool" kind of way, but had no idea what I could/would do. The miscarriage opened this door too. I feel very privileged to serve with the amazing women in this organization.

Looking back at 2014, I see how God was able to marry my life experience and clarified beliefs with my desire to develop professionally as a writer. As I blogged about my miscarriage throughout this past year, I was not only able to work through my own grief, but I was also about to develop my theology about  God's providence and sovereignty when it comes to pregnancy and the gift of children.

At the end of November, I wrote "Say 'Congratulations'--It's the Christian thing to do" and it got over 500 views overnight! To date, it is my 2nd "most-viewed" post on my blog, with over 7800 views (in reality, this is not a lot of views in the "blog world" but is a LOT for my little blog!). Even more exciting though, is that this blog open the door for me to be a guest writer for Christianity Today's blog, Her.Menutics. My article was published on December 10 and has received over 3000 shares on social media. These publications have been huge for me as a writer. I hope it is just the beginning. But I know that without the heartbreak at the beginning of the year, the victory at the end most likely would not have happened.

So what is the point of this post? I guess it is this: If you are heart-broken today, on New Years Day 2015, and your life is taking a completely different, unwanted, horrible path than you would have ever chosen...I pray you can find hope in my story.

God had plans for my 2014, ones I never would have chosen but plans that ultimately helped me to grow, learn, love others, and even brought me the desires of my heart.

And even though I was never promised the gift of another baby, He gave me that too. I sit here typing with my 10 day old baby boy sleeping on my chest. What a gift of grace, complete unmerited favor. 


So, hold on, friend. He is with you.

What Jane Austen did for me this summer

Jane Austen has been a good friend to me. Never mind the fact that she lived and died over 200 years ago. She came through for me this summer in a brand new way.

Back in May I wrote a post about my desire to start something new: A book club.

"So, out of pure self-pity and literature withdrawal, I decided to start a Jane Austen Book Club this summer."

And I did! 

The scary thing was, I had never started a book club. I had never even been IN a book club (does Bible study count??). I really had no idea what I was doing. 

But after receiving a healthy amount of interest, we started reading Pride and Prejudice in June. 

And something happened that first meeting, something new and strange. 

I met with 8 ladies in a comfortable living room, ate lemon tart and drank tea and discussed one of my favorite books. 

Some of the wonderful women in our Jane Austen Book Club. We met for lunch for our last meeting at the very English Ploughcraft Tea Room

And it was weird. 

I realized afterwards that it had been years since I had gotten together with a group of women and talked about something other than my home life, work, and especially, my children. I love talking about these topics….but at this first book club….

….I felt like I was exercising a part of my brain and soul that had been dormant for a long time. It was so refreshing….and foreign! 

I hoped I'd never be one of "those women" who say, "I lost part of myself when I became  a mother." 

I wanted to shake those moms and say, "buck up, woman! Keep a hold of yourself! Remember who you are!"

But, I realized at that first book club, over discussions of Bingley and Jane, Elizabeth and Darcy that while I hadn't lost part of myself, per se, I hadn't pursued this passion in a long time, a passion for reading, literary discussion, and everything Jane Austen  (Jane Austen's works were the focus my master's thesis, after all!). Because sometimes those passions get buried when you are a busy wife and mother. 

So, this book club was like finding a part of myself again. 

Everything I learned in grad school about Jane came pouring out at our meetings. I dug out old lecture notes, read my marginalia to my friends, and talked WAY TOO MUCH at each meeting.

But I couldn't help it. That passion was rekindled. 

So, thank you Jane Austen for reminding me of who I am and what I love. 

And thank you, new friends and old, for joining my book club and reading Pride and Prejudice and Northanger Abbey with me. Meeting with me every week (or whenever you could make it!) was more that just a fun summer pastime. 

It fed my heart and soul. 

Summer (Sanity!) Schedule

School is out! WOO HOO! No more crazy mornings, making lunches, scrambling out the door just in the nick of time…! Just days of fun…!

….long…days….of…fun.

Emphasis on "long."

Maybe you are like me and feel like "Oh my…how am I going to keep my kids happy this summer while also keeping my own sanity?

(on top of just day to day sanity I am also teaching online this summer. Oh, and I'm pregnant too.)

So, I decided to put together a little plan to help give us some structure to our long summer days.

Micah and Benji get up before I do and can do the first 3 by themselves. I usually get up around 7:30 or 8 and then we eat breakfast. 

"Clean up" will consists of general toy pick up and regular house work. It will also be an opportunity for the boys to earn "Bucks." (See below!)

Our Activity time will be anything from 

Playing at the park

Wednesday Playdate with friends

Going to Kids Cove

Going to the Library

Running errands 

Cooking Time

Doing work sheets or reading books

Painting/crafts

Playing in the bath (a favorite, especially for Benji)

Legos, Trains, etc. 

Or…if I am truly exhausted and have no creativity, playing educational games on the computer

After lunch is Rest Time which is ESSENTIAL to both  my sanity and the fact that I am working from home. Silas starts his nap at 12:30 and I am going to make the big boys lay down then too (or around there). Then I can get some work done on the computer and/or rest if I need to. TV time afterward is contingent on the big boys taking a good nap/rest (2 hours). 

My motivation is super-low in the late afternoon so I have a pretty lax schedule after Rest Time. 

I am hoping that our schedule will lead up till 5pm when DADDY COMES HOME FROM WORK!!! (aka the best part of the day!)

Bucks System

As a way to motivate my 6 year olds to do housework, summer work sheets, and general good behavior, as well as teach them about spending and saving, I made some "Behavior Bucks." 

I printed them on colored card stock  for free from this website

The boys can "Earn the Bucks," "Spend the Bucks," or "Lose the Bucks." Here are some examples below of how each one works in our family.

They can also earn bucks for a "Cheerful Attitude" or "Helping with Silas" or "Special Chores with Daddy"

So far, most of the bucks have been spent on iPad playing (also candy). They keep saying they want to save for
Toys R  Us but it is HARD (Saving is hard for all of us, isn't it?)

The boys can "Lose the Bucks" too. This has proven a pretty effective discipline method so far (even in just warning them that they are about to "LOSE THE BUCKS!"). 

I am hoping that our "Bucks" system will provide some structure and motivation to our day for chores and summer school work like reading and handwriting sheets. 

So, there it is: Our Summer (Sanity) Schedule. 

I really want to keep these faces smiling! (and mine smiling too!)

What are YOUR plans for the summer? How do you plan to keep (ha!) your sanity as well as keep your kids busy and happy?

Share your ideas below!  

If you want relationships, you have to make them happen

When did relationships get so hard? I'm not talking about romance. I am extremely happy with my love life and adorable, though scraggly, husband.

I mean other relationships: FRIENDSHIPS.

In the past two years I feel like my friendships have gotten tossed on the back burner. And I mean like the way back burner, like the old stove that is rusting to pieces in the back yard.

Ok, I am exaggerating a bit.

But here is the truth: I get lonely and I want people to want to spend time with me.

When I was in high school and college, I really wanted a mentor. I wanted someone to notice that I was special and smart, a girl who just need a bit of attention and wisdom. I hoped and prayed that THE woman at church or THE professor would just take notice of me and ask me out to coffee.

It never happened. I was crushed.

Now that I am older (and less annoyingly needy), this longing for relationships has given me a startling kick-in-the-pants truth: If I want relationships, I usually have to make them happen myself.

If I want to get to know that student or offer some advice, I have to ask her out for coffee.

If I miss my mom friend, I shouldn't just write on her Facebook wall "I miss you! Let's get together soon!" Rather, I should call or text: "Hey, what day can we get together this week?"

If I am always canceling on a single friend who loves evening get-togethers, I need to offer a weekend alternative: "How about Saturday brunch?"

I find myself cringing when I say enthusiastically, "We should get together!" and then never doing anything about it.

Relationships take work:
Initiative
Creativity
Planning
Babysitters
Follow-through
Sacrifice

And…sometimes openness to being hurt. Last fall semester, I really desired to build relationships with some of my former students (something I wanted in college, remember?). I contacted them (10-12) and offered a weekly "Sunday Supper" at my house. I had visions of great food, rousing discussions, lots of laughter, and deep mentoring relationships being formed.

I didn't count on hurt feelings. But it happened sometimes. Weeks when no one showed up. Or other weeks when students were so late that dinner was cold (no apology or explanation). Opening up my home meant opening up my heart and that made me vulnerable to hurt.

But it was worth it.  Not for the "thank you's" or "You didn't have to do this!" but for the fact that I could offer a bit of solace to students during such a busy and tumultuous time in their lives. I also got to laugh a lot, play games, and indulge in fancy deserts that I wouldn't usually make for my immediate family.

We didn't do "Sunday Suppers" in the spring semester (mostly because of my miscarriage and recovery…I just couldn't pull it together) but I've recognized other desires in my life.

Like, I miss my "English" friends and discussing literature on a regular basis. I haven't taught English on campus in a long time and I was starting to get really down.

So, out of pure self-pity and literature withdrawal, I decided to start a Jane Austen Book Club this summer.

(My other motivation is that reading Austen is just amazingly fun so, really, I didn't need those other excuses).

I've had a healthy amount of interest in the club so far so I think it will be a good time when we start in June.

I guess the point of all these stories is this: If you are lonely, have a need, want a friend….reach out and strive to make your relationships happen!

It won't always work, but, as I have learned, if I want relationships in my life, I have to seek them out, invite people over, ask that person out for coffee, and make an effort to invest in people.

Because investing in people is worth it. But to invest, sometimes you have to take the first step and make it happen.

When I grow up...Living my childhood dreams

I have a distinct memory of my grandmother asking me, "What do you want to be when you grow up, Brittany?"

"A writer," I promptly stated, at 5 years old. "I love stories."

(My grandmother then told me that it is very hard to make a living as a writer so I should consider being an English teacher. Wise woman, that one, as I have yet to make any money from my writing).

As a little girl, I always had a story (or three) stirring up inside of me, pushing against my brain, making my fingers itch for a pencil (my writing utensil of choice). 

(Apparently my favorite word was "little" as I used it 14 times in this story)

I even wrote stories before I knew how to write. The picture above is from my very first story, "Bunny is Mine." I dictated the story to my mother and then illustrated my masterpiece. 

My mom utilized my love of writing in our homeschool and had me write short stories with  my spelling words every week.  The moment I saw those spelling words, my mind starting forming a story. Words were magical. I could make them do things, say things, create worlds. 

I wrote my first "book" when I was 11: Snow Children. I didn't have very nice handwriting so my older sister Amberley copied the story in her pretty penmanship for my parents. I gave them Snow Children for Christmas in 1995. 

I couldn't wait to start my next novel. I was extremely disciplined. I wrote every day for 4 months, spending hours crafting my historical-fiction-time-travel novel about four best friends. I called it True Friends. It was awesome. Here is page 105, complete with misspellings. I was (still am) a horrible speller. So much for those spelling word stories, huh? 

See the date in the picture? In 1997 I was 12 years old. 

I was determined to make my dreams come true. I needed to know more, do more. I found out about local writing workshops. I tucked my favorite purple notebook under my arm, put a pencil and Chapstick in my purse and rode my bike to workshop after workshop. 

Looking back, what I did was horribly embarrassing. The workshops weren't for kids. They were held over the lunch hour so budding writers could attend during their work day, but as a homeschool student I could attend during regular school hours. No one said anything to me but I got some funny looks. 

I didn't care. I was serious, completely dedicated. 

In high school I dabbled in writing radio drama as I was a huge fan of "Adventures in Odyssey" (a Christian radio drama series.) I wrote a melodrama called "What's Brewing in Percolator?" for me and my friends to perform. Yep. That happened. It was hilarious.... and horrible. 

I also taught acting classes at the local community theater and wrote a fairy tale spoof for my 5-6th grade students to perform. The picture above is from my first draft, complete with (more) misspelled words and scribbled editing. When the kids performed it, everyone laughed (like "Percolator" it was  hilarious and horrible as well). I was so proud. 

I have notebooks and binders filled with stories, plans for stories, character sketches. I would frequently lie awake at night with my latest story playing behind my closed eyes like a movie. There was way too much imagination going on to sleep. 

 I think my illustrations for "Bunny is Mine" were probably better than the ones in "Libby's Wish."

I participated in the "Written and Illustrated by" program as an early teen and wrote "Libby's Wish." The plot line of "Libby's Wish" was pretty lame but at the time, I was so proud! 

My creative writing slowed down in my later teen years. My dream of becoming a writer seemed kind of like all my stories: childish. I needed to be more practical. I threw myself into my school work, first my undergraduate and then my masters degree. I became an English teacher. 

In the middle of all that I got married and had three kids. 

But that little childhood dream kept tickling a tiny place in my heart. So I tried again. 

I started my blog. 

I wrote articles. 

I entered writing contests.

I wrote short stories for kids. 

I went to more writing workshops (this time I wasn't 30 years younger than everyone else) 

I studied how to write query letters. 

I sent out story after story, article after article to publishers. 

And my writing was rejected. 

Again. And again. And again. 

I would still lay awake at night, but now I would dream about the day I would get the letter or the phone call. The person on the other end would say "We are pleased to inform you..." and I would scream with joy! My joy would be so big that I wouldn't be able to hold it all inside. I would shout it to the world, "I AM A WRITER!"

That moment has yet to happen. 

I've been blogging for almost 6 years. I've had 3 or 4 articles and/or short stories published. I was intensely happy when I finally saw my work in print (or online) (you can read about these amazing experiences here, here, and here) but there was no screaming-into-the-phone or sudden epiphany that I had suddenly "arrived." 

I realized that, as cliche as it sounds, becoming a writer, for me, has been a journey not a destination. It was about writing lots (and lots and lots) of crappy stories, articles, and blog posts. It's been about reading, reading, reading, and more reading. And becoming a writer, for me, has been about time and growing up. 

I recently finished writing a play that I started 8 months + 7 years ago. I actually started writing the play in college and never finished it. Last August I got an email from a guy at Liberty. He said that he was a part of a radio drama group and found my old version of my play in a file from one of my old professors and asked if I would be interested in finishing it. I said, yes! 

Then I looked at the old play and was like "Uh…this is horrible." So, I started from scratch. 

Writing this play was a huge accomplishment for me as it brought me back to a place of intense dedication to creative writing that I hadn't experienced since I was a little girl. If all goes well, hopefully, sometime in the next year, my play will be produced on the radio! 

I wanted to be a writer as a little girl because I loved stories and more importantly, I had stories inside of me. I had tiny voice inside that wanted to be a big voice, a voice that would speak to others in beauty and humor, truth and love. And now that I am almost 30 years old, my voice is just starting to speak to others. It's quiet; it's small. But it's there. 

My two act play I finished in June

I still have yet to make one dollar as a writer--my grandmother gave me good advice when I was five years old. But as all writers know, what we really want, more than money, fame, recognition, is readers. And in my writing journey I've gathered a few readers along the way, just a handful. But they're enough to keep me going. 

Because do you know what I want to be when I grow up? 

A writer.