My Superpower

I have a superpower.  It is LEGIT.  Uncanny. It's completely predictable by my children, and utterly unpredictable by me.  It is a feat of coordination that I don't even consciously coordinate.  It is like an invisible connection that I have on a CELLULAR LEVEL.  I just love it SO MUCH.

Sadly, for THEM, my supernatural connection is with the cafeteria at their school.  That's right.  I'm cosmically dialed into the LUNCHROOM.  This connection brings me heaps and heaps of pure joy, because anyone who knows me well knows my complete and utter affinity for and devotion to the deliciousness that is CAFETERIA FOOD. And also STADIUM FOOD AND CONCESSION STAND FOOD, but I digress.

My menu planning is on the same level as the lunch ladies.  For weeknight meals, there's no need to get too fancy, friends.    I realize that this gives you a bit of a peek into my culinary prowess, and also to my unrefined palate, as I LOVE ME SOME SERIOUS SCHOOL LUNCH.  Turkey gravy, anyone???

Let me explain how this usually goes down:

The bus pulls up.  The three tired, ravenous, dirty school boys file out and pile into the car.  Immediately upon entry, they grab a snack and demand to know what's for dinner and IF IT IS READY.  The cacophony alone could split the atom.

Then, I say something along these lines:

Dinner is. . . .  Pasta!  Tacos!  Pizza!  Quesadillas!  Chicken and Rice!  Fish!  Meatball Subs!  Soup!  Fajitas!  Hot Dogs!  Macaroni and Cheese!  Hamburgers!  Sloppy Joes!  Breakfast for Dinner!

AND. . . . .  IT'S READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And then the GROANING COMMENCES.

Dinner skeptic.

According to my completely unscientific analysis, two times out of 10, the groaning is from any given child who does not enjoy what is being served that night.  To which I reply, Help yourself to yogurt or a sandwich after you've had a bit of what I've lovingly made you for dinner with my bare hands.

Eight times out of ten, ALL OF THEM GROAN BECAUSE I'VE DONE IT YET AGAIN.

I made for dinner EXACTLY what they ate for lunch.

It is spectacular.  I do this at least once a week.  And I find it utterly hilarious.

They, however, DO NOT.

I can hear you thinking. . . Why don't you check the school menu on Sundays in order to avoid making the same thing for dinner?  Wouldn't that solve the problem?

That's an excellent question.

My answer is threefold:

ONE:  If these monkeys want variety in their meals on any given day, they should check the menus themselves and inform me on Sundays when I am planning the meals.  And then, they should scour the internet to find inventive, easy weeknight meals that don't ever get made by ladies in hairnets. And, they should shut their pretty little mouths when I make something new and not complain and grumble.  

TWO:  I SIMPLY CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO ADD A SCHOOL LUNCH MENU CHECK TO MY WEEKLY MENU PLANNING ROUTINE.  It is a feat of organization that meals even get planned, people.  

THREE:  I secretly enjoy this magical coordination with the lunch ladies.  I want to see how long I can keep this SUPERPOWER STREAK GOING.

Landon graduates from high school in 2030.  I'm aiming high, friends.  AIMING HIGH.  

2030 OR BUST.  

Hard Wired for Struggle

 "Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." 

Life can be hard.

Scratch that.

Life IS hard.

But, as researcher Brene Brown says, we are hard wired for struggle. We are MADE for it. But, sadly, we as humans tend to spend the majority of our lives avoiding struggle in order to save ourselves from the inevitable pain that comes in its wake.  We dismiss it or discount it or numb ourselves to it or avoid it or blame it, instead of EXPERIENCING it as a helpful teacher, as a refining fire, as something that is needed to help us grow and transcend into who we were made to be.    

Struggle makes us stronger, more resilient, IF we can muster the strength to face it.  

My bigs and our weekend Bonus Kid have each had a rough start to the school year, each for different reasons.  Some of them may or may not be a wee bit hormonal.  Yikes.  (AN ASIDE:  I highly recommend adding some Bonus Kids to your brood.  They are all kinds of fabulous.  They are funny and clever and kind and polite and helpful and THEY CONSISTENTLY TELL YOUR KIDS TO DO WHATEVER YOU SAY.  Bonus Kid. . . don't ever go far away).  But I digress.

It was determined that the recipe for healing and restoration for these boys was some serious FUN.  WITH A SIDE OF STRUGGLE, OF COURSE.

ENTER THE CLASS FOUR WHITEWATER RAPIDS COURSE.

There was flipping.  There was clinging to the sides of passing boats to try to recover lost oars.  There were lost boats.  There was "digging" into the water with all of their might to make it out of the eddy and back to the shore.  They had sore abs and sore wrists and sore EVERYTHING.

But they were EXHILARATED.

They struggled and not only survived, but THRIVED.  They remembered that they can do hard things.  They remembered that it is not always easy, and it may not be pretty, but that they can get to the other side of struggle.

And the other side is beautiful.  Their shining, smiling faces were proof of that.

They loved the struggle and the exhilaration so much that THEY WENT BACK FOR MORE THE NEXT DAY.  

Life is pain.  Life is exhilarating.  

Both/And.  

Now, they may be able to see themselves through to the other side of struggle.  But, they can't seem to see the sign that says CHANGING ROOM.  Or, they cannot be bothered to CHANGE IN THE DESIGNATED CHANGING AREA TO SAVE THE EYEBALLS OF ALL PASSERSBY.  Like Glennon Melton says, "We can do hard things.  We just can't do EASY things."  Like changing in a CHANGING ROOM.  GAH.