Goodbye people-pleasing, hello healthy!

I don't have a new year's resolution, but this year I do want to learn to think in terms of what's good for me. I'm not talking about being self-centered, but about not being a people-pleaser. It's a problem for me, and I need to learn how to balance doing good for others with taking care of myself. I must admit, it feels pretty empowering to make a choice based on what's physically and emotionally healthy!

4 real things I’ve done recently that made me feel powerful:

1. Not inviting people I don’t like to my wedding.

There’s this teacher I worked with for the past two years who drove me crazy. She’s the kind of person who always looks like a model for the cover of "Kindergarten Teacher Magazine," and can give you a compliment that actually makes you feel worse, not better. Somehow things just always manage to go her way, no matter how badly it screws up someone else's tight schedule. She's what I call a "workplace diva bully." I have no hard feelings toward her, but I'm not upset about the fact that I no longer work with her class. And because I no longer consider her a co-worker, and she was never a friend, I don't feel obligated to put her on the list of co-workers/friends with whom I'd like to share my special day. It's that simple.

2. Wearing earrings to a legalistic church.

We love our church. It’s a 5-year-old church plant in a poverty-stricken neighborhood. People come to church in whatever clothes they have -- yes, even pants on women! Some even have earrings! *gasp* For the first time in my life, the question of what to wear on Sunday morning doesn’t stress me out. If it matches and doesn’t stink, it’s good, because we just want to see people worshiping and feeling welcome in God's house. But then there’s this other church in town that we frequented when we first met because, frankly, it’s a cheap date and a great place to show off your new arm candy. It’s a big church with a lot of decent people, but we don’t particularly like going there because the atmosphere is just a little legalistic. Too many rules. But since we’re getting married and need to give invitations to people we’d likely run into at that church, we decided to show up last Sunday night. Cue mass wardrobe panic. His shirt collar has a smudge! I haven’t done laundry in over a week! My skirt hem is wrinkled! Does this even match? My knees are showing! Then there was a little discourse about how this should not be such a problem and how we always feel like the congregation is inspecting our wardrobe. Seriously, there’s a sign at the door: “Entrance with decent attire only.” So naturally we smoothed our hems and dabbed our collars and ran out the door. But as a tiny sign of protest against ridiculous social norms in the church, I wore earrings. Bam!

3. Dress-shopping with my groom.

I know, it's horrible bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress. But I'm gonna be honest here, I have very picky taste in clothes. I like to feel good in what I'm wearing, and I want my clothes to reflect my personality. I don't know a single girl here who shares my taste or knows what I want to look and feel like on my wedding day. My groom, on the other hand, has excellent taste and knows what I like even better than I do sometimes. His opinion means more to me than anyone else's. He knows how to handle me when I'm stressed, and buying a wedding dress is very stressful. He also has a car, and the wedding dress stores are an hour away. So despite the shocks and screeches from many girls who couldn't believe I would go with him, it seemed like the most obvious choice to me. Whatever.

4. Eating an orange and a granola bar when I really wanted an apple turnover.

This has nothing to do with being a people-pleaser, but it was a healthy choice, so I'm including it, anyway. My future mother-in-law makes these irresistable little finger cakes, and I ate a few too many over the Christmas break. Now that the holidays are over, I’m trying to get back on track. This means making a lot of tough choices for a sweets-lover like myself. Yesterday I got hungry while I was in town, and my first thought was the delicious apple turnovers downtown for 2.50 Lei (less than a dollar). But then I thought of my waist and my wedding dress, so I headed to the fruit stand instead. I got 4 mandarins and a granola bar for the same money and half the calories. I should add that I only ate one mandarin, not all four. Go me!

I'm can't say for sure how long it will last, but so far, I'm really enjoying this new-found courage to do what makes for the happiest, healthiest Becky in 2015. Try it and see for yourself!

oh, HEY! My name is behind that title!

This may not be what I consider my best work, but apparently somebody liked it, so I'm pleased to share. Find my creative non-fiction this month in Deep South Magazine, an online publication dedicated to all things southern.

http://deepsouthmag.com/2012/09/home-2/

Kindergarten

They make Kindergarten out to be some kind of fun club, like an all-day-every-day party with thirty of your favorite strangers and some woman your parents just met last week.

And then they expect you to hop right out of the car and waltz down the hall like you’re excited to sit in a cold room all day, trying to remember where they told you to sit and raising your hand every time you need to pee.

I caught a ride on Mama’s leg, gripping her knee cap for dear life with my new Reeboks dragging the floor. First day of school? No thanks.

Speaking of Reeboks, I couldn’t tie mine. Tying shoes is one of those things parents try to teach their kids before they go to school, even though it’s officially supposed to be learned in Kindergarten. Our class had these construction paper shoes with holes punched in them and yarn laced through so we could practice. Most everybody caught on pretty quick, probably because their parents wanted them to look extra smart, but every time I tried to pull the knot tight, the yarn would just hang loose like it was to begin with. So during story time, the teacher set me and some other kids to the side so we could keep practicing while we listened without being a distraction.

Dressed as my hero, Pippy Longstocking, with my shoes tied

Now reading, that was a different story. Some parents taught their kids how to tie bunny ear loops, but mine taught me how to 'sound it out.' I have a suspicion that they were really just tired of me begging them to read my favorite book all the time (I guess they didn’t mind tying my shoes). But I like to think they had more educated motives, like being in a rebel anti-sight-words group, or setting me up to be star student of the week and even star student of the year. Yes, I earned both of those distinguished awards, and eventually learned to tie my shoes. I thought the latter was less important because everyone knows that’s what velcro is for, right?

glass half ____? or maybe half a glass?

I'm always amazed at the big difference small things can make. 

Have you ever had one of those days/weeks/months when you had resolved to look at the glass as half full, but then noticed that the glass was LEAKING? You know, like when you get a huge cherry limeade from Sonic during "happy hour" and then poke your straw through the bottom of the cup over your khaki pants? What then?

Monday, Monday

8:22 am - wake up and realize I should be arriving at my practicum approximately now. send apology email to cooperating teacher.

8:45 am - clean apartment in search of student ID that's been MIA for a week. find it stuck between pages of Radical book.

9:00 am - think about Saturday plans, then remember that I'm taking the Praxis.

9:30 am - check Praxis website for test time, realize I never registered for the test.

9:45 am - go back to bed and start over.

Just in case you think I've got it all together... I don't.

natural disasters

I gladly took that precious baby in my arms. Davis has the biggest, brightest blue eyes I've ever seen, and I don't get to see them very often. I sat on the hay bails listening to some local country act and eating boiled peanuts, while Mommy went to have a few minutes for herself.

*pft pft pft* Oh! Somebody's a little gassy!

What's that?

I looked down to see a steady stream of brownish-yellow liquid flowing onto my arm, my hands, my jeans, and then the ground as I held the little bundle of joy away from my body. What have they been feeding this kid? I used my cat-like reflexes to scrub the evidence into the dirt with the toe of my boot. Looking up in panic, I summoned a relief team before Mommy came back from her peaceful moments to find the aftermath of a natural disaster.

How many women does it take to change a messy diaper? This time, three: One to hold the baby, one to wipe him down, and one to hold the trash bag. I took that last responsibility for myself.

Poop cleaned from all body parts, check. Baby wipes in dumpster, check. Messy once-white onesie tied up in plastic bag, check. Baby in clean clothes, check. We tried to act natural as his Mommy came back to her precious baby boy. We had done our best to hide all evidence, but there was no ignoring the new outfit.

"Oh, did we change clothes while Mommy was gone?"

We all looked at his orange shirt and smiled sideways at her. I returned Davis to his Mommy's arms and doused my hands with a third shot of sanitizer gel. I love babies, and I don't mind changing diapers... but there's nothing like a mother's love, right?