Paige's Return to Deutschland!: "I'm a tiger. I'm a champion."

My college friend, Neysa, told me during her visit about a book she is reading about how our general 'life of comfort' is making us soft. She pointed out that the man writing the book comes from a place of privilege but some of his points are interesting. One of his theories is that we need to do more hard things; he specifically gave the suggestion of endurance sports.

During my collegiate club sport days, I repeated the mantra, "I'm a tiger. I'm a champion." I mostly whispered it to myself during cyclocross races. I also think the ridiculous mantra spilled over to other challenging circumstances in early adulthood. The grin-and-bear-it mentality got me pretty far, but you know what it isn't getting me through...

Friday morning:

Me: Staring off into the distance in despair.

Carmen: "Mommy, you are sad because your uncle died."

Me: "Today I am sad because we haven't done our final lice shampoo and you already have a new pinworm infection."

Monday morning:

Crosby: "My stomach doesn't feel good."

Me: "You're going to school."

Monday afternoon:

Call from school secretary: "Crosby has a stomach ache and needs to be picked-up."

Crosby resting in his forth floor classroom that doubles as a sauna.

Me to Crosby: "Sorry. I guess my body rejecting the pinworm medication was actually a stomach bug working our way through our family."

Ok, dear reader, I know you're thinking "Yeah, yeah, yeah - are you really still blogging about being sick all the time?" Yes, because the official count is now past 18 months of near constant illness. But, I've learned a a few very important lessons this last round of parasites. I am going to blog about these revelations in the hopes that God believes that I've learned something and will give me a break. Jokes.

Growing up I was always praised for my "toughness". I see this toughness in some of my kids in that they can take a punch or shake off a fall. It's a quality that is still generally rewarded in our culture. Nevertheless, I give a lot of lip service to raising sensitive kids - and reversing the "boys don't show emotion" cultural construct. That being said, often I just want to scream at them, "Just suck it up." So I'm learning, and like many learning experiences - it's painful for everyone.

Also, as Carmen noted, I'm still grieving my uncle Karl. I want time and space to think, and that just doesn't happen when my kids are sick. I had the privilege of meeting my new bible study ladies for a late night showing of the German history in the government quarter. Along the way, I rode past a restaurant Paul and I went to on a double date with Karl and Joy. Every time I pass that restaurant I feel a physical tightening in my chest. I had the thought yesterday, "Karl couldn't have in a million years imagined the pain his suicide would cause. Suicide doesn't end the pain, it just defuses it to the people who love you." A thought that is as dark as our blue man group audition photo:

Speaking of auditions, I'm trying out better mantras. My friend Leah gave me the book Breath as Prayer for my 40th birthday. I have to admit that I outright rejected it based on the cover. The cover is beautiful, which made me feel like it was marketing to my soul. Turns out the author is a graphic designer so it shouldn't be held against her. I am only a couple pages in, but I can tell this is going to be a helpful practice getting me through the many challenges ahead.

In the mean time, I continue to try and walk the tightrope of building character and raising sensitive kids. My current strategy is to put my kids to work at home when they are "sick but not too sick".