This week I have been working on becoming a little more like Pollyanna. I didn't string up crystals in the living room or take a patchwork quilt to Mrs. Tarbell and we haven't been eating steak and ice cream. Yet. But I have been working on playing a modified version of the “glad game.” I am attempting to take potentially bad situations or circumstances and look at them in a different way, and if possible I'm hoping to embark on a new journey of gratitude, contentment, satisfaction: thanks.
One reason is because I have been reading this book. It is a challenge to be thankful for the minute blessings that routinely happen each day without focusing, like we do, on the blah moments.
I was on Chapter 3 of the book when a blissful day, a Wednesday, approached. The birds were chirping outside the open windows, and although I normally detest the sound of birds in the morning (I dislike birds in general) I was thankful for the sounds of spring and warmer air.
The morning started off perfectly. I was showered and ready before 7 am, I spent some precious time with the angelic baby, fed and chatted with my other cherubs, and in no rush snuggled everyone into carseats. The healthful lunch was packed, we were on time, and I was feeling good as I turned into the parking lot because we had read all the books for Griffin's pizza chart, resulting in a free tiny pizza for later--joy of joys! Everything was neatly organized in his school bag for the day. He was well rested and we were good to go.
I walked him through the doors and bent to give him a squeeze (just a quick side hug to avoid complete K-5 humiliation) when I noticed that all the little girls were wearing dresses and all the little boys had collared shirts and neatly combed hair. I looked down at Griffin to assess my next move.
His eyes were goopy and running because he only has one tear duct in each eye and it's allergy season and I forgot to give him a little Zyrtec and some eye drops. Tufts of hair were shooting up vertically from his cowlick and his front tooth (which was on the verge of falling out for 3 weeks) was dangling loosely in the middle of a huge gap in his mouth. He was wearing a black Star Wars sweatshirt and some jeans.
I went from feeling like mom of the year to pitying the poor bedraggled-bedhead-goopy-eyed Star Wars wearing boy that was waiting for my next move. I forgot about Pollyanna and wasn't very thankful for anything as I dragged the other two less than cherubic kids on an unwanted Target trip to buy a picture-appropriate polo. The day spiraled out of my hands, and the glad game was momentarily on hold.
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Earlier this week I sold a stroller on Craigslist. When the buyer emailed asking for our address I noticed she was using a Blackberry. I gave her our address and politely listed a few key landmarks near our house, and I thought our call had dropped because the line was silent. I finally realized that she would obviously use her Blackberry GPS to navigate her way to our house and she didn't need (or want) to know about the crossroads, stores, churches, or llamas she would pass along the way.
I know it's silly not to use a GPS on a road trip, but I miss atlases. I have been on many road adventures throughout the years and I enjoy reading a map, following directions, scanning landmarks and logging miles. I want to know how many miles it will be before I reach a city, before I'm halfway to my destination, and I want to know what cities are just out of reach on either side of the highway. I don't want to listen to a robotic voice telling me I need to turn right in two miles or that I need to turn around at the next exit because I'm going the “wrong way.” I haven't tried to buy an atlas recently, but I have a feeling most of them are gone with the wind by now. I do know that I have always felt most comfortable with a map in my hand, a plan of action, an agenda, a schedule; I hate surprises and I don't like waiting until the last minute for anything. I'm beginning to think my obsession with control might be directly linked to the lack of thankfulness in my life.
Why do I care about Griffin showing up for K-5 school pictures wearing Star Wars? What is the big deal about using a GPS and only focusing on the tiny digital screen road in front of me? Why do I want to control things when I continuously prove that I can't? And why is it so much easier to play the glad game when everything is going according to my spectacular plans and I have everything mapped out and scheduled in front of me?
It has been another week of cleaning the kitchen three times a day, attempting to keep ahead of schedule, running out of milk and realizing I'm unqualified to do it all. It is hard to maintain order and schedule and control while swerving in and out of three little heads and six small feet, but it is also very easy to play the glad game when I'm surrounded by easy laughs, quick forgiveness and the electricity of exciting daily discoveries. I am anxious to pursue the glad game more, to make it a habit, because the gifts truly are immeasurable and in every direction imaginable-- whether you use an Atlas or a GPS. I have also seen that when I allow a little bit of Pollyanna into my life, the realistically optimistic and hopefully thankful Pollyanna, I am much less overwhelmed by my own imperfections. Look out Mrs. Tarbell, I'm bringing you a quilt to sew for the Bazaar.
**And if you have never seen Pollyanna, this was always our favorite part. The scary sermon by Reverend Ford. Yikes!
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