Tag Archives: blog

Feb12

Warning: Low Battery

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The battery in my car key fob is low. I discovered this issue because every time I turn off my car, it dings several times and then displays an image of a key fob and a battery that says, “low key battery.” I turn my car on and off several times a day. The dinging is super annoying and has been going on for several weeks (months). Yet, most of the time, I don’t even hear the dinging anymore. I’ve gotten used to it. The alarm is warning me that if I don’t do something, the battery will become useless, and the key fob and therefore the car won’t work.  

The metaphor is not lost on me. I feel like I’ve become pretty good at realizing when I need rest and alone time to recharge. I say pretty good, because sometimes I need a reminder. My husband Ben can look at me or hear the tone of my voice and hound me with “what’s wrong?” until I stop and either acknowledge what’s bothering me or figure out what’s causing my discontent. I need Ben to sound the alarm for me at times. 

Recently, I’ve had several friends dealing with heavy matters: job issues, illness, financial crises, family situations, grief, and loss. And then there are the friends who step in to take care of everyone else. Over and over again. They’re all in danger of burning out. They tend to ignore their needs and instead focus on others. They might not even realize what they’re doing because it’s always been their way of operating in the world. So lately, I’ve taken it upon myself to serve as their alarms. I’ve sent several texts saying, “take care of yourself” over the last few weeks. Reminding them that unless they take time to reenergize themselves, they will be unable to function. I’ve ended up physically sick after stressful seasons when I haven’t taken care of myself. I’ve become overly anxious or depressed when I haven’t treated myself kindly.  Of course, when mama goes “down,” it’s more difficult for everyone around us. We can’t mother those we love, whether they’re in our family or our larger community, if we are depleted mentally, physically, or emotionally. 

Knowing what will help sustain and restore us is not always obvious. One of the reasons I haven’t changed the battery in my key fob is because I don’t know what size button battery goes in the key. I also don’t remember what battery worked the last time I changed it. I need to sit down, open the fob, and find out what kind of battery it needs. Finding out what makes us feel better may be a mystery at times. Sometimes, I need to take a nap. At other times, I need to watch a television show that I’ve already seen a hundred times. Or I need to go to lunch with my friends so I can vent or lament. Or journal to get all my feelings out of my head and onto paper. But my ways of dealing with stress may be the last way another person would choose. I flipped through my journal once to show my eleven-year-old Alex what it meant to have a journal practice. He was horrified that anyone would ever engage in all of that “writing,” much less as an effort to relax and refocus. We must spend time figuring out what will help us when we find ourselves slipping into the abyss. 

When we see people struggling under their burdens or those of others, we can serve as the gentle alarm that tells them they are important and need to take care of themselves. Low batteries eventually run out. Instead of ignoring the repeated dinging, let’s help ourselves and others by heeding the warning signs.

Jan15

We’re the Weasleys

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Recently, we hosted Jed’s varsity basketball team for dinner at our house. I spent a day and a half cleaning and decluttering in preparation. In keeping with my tradition, I also spent a good amount of time fretting about how our house looks in comparison to everyone else’s museum quality, magazine ready houses. Because in my head, that’s what we’re up against. Sparkly, new, organized, beautiful, tidy homes that do not need any work or repairs, have no closets containing the things they want to hide from guests, and remain spotless no matter how many people live there. The anxiety I create about having people over is compounded by the imaginary perfection I assume everyone else maintains. 

But lately, and especially, during my preparation for this dinner, I’ve adopted a new mantra: “We’re the Weasleys.” The Weasleys are a fictional family from the Harry Potter series by JK Rowling. They become Harry’s surrogate family because he was orphaned and then mistreated by his guardians. The Weasleys have more children than we do – we have four, they have six, but each family only has one girl, and the rest are boys. And while none of my children inherited my ginger hair, all the Weasleys have red hair distinguishing them amongst other families in the wizarding world. Some of the snooty wizarding families look down on them. Their home is cozy, cluttered, crowded, and a bit crazy. Loud – definitely loud – with conversation, teasing, yelling, and laughter. They adopt numerous friends as family. Never, ever attack one of the people Mrs. Weasley cares about because she is the ultimate mama bear. The moment Harry arrives, he feels he’s found a home.  

That’s what I hope and pray our home is like. If you dropped in on us unannounced, you’d probably find a basket of unfolded laundry in plain sight, and school papers, laptops, and cups (oh the cups) on the tables or kitchen island. Backpacks and shoes, so many shoes, strewn about. The TV is on, and someone is probably loudly watching YouTube on their phone in competition. Blankets and decorative pillows are all over the couch if they’re not on the floor. The dogs will bark because they want you to pet them. No need to be intimidated here – there are no antiques or valuables to worry about. In fact, we had two plastic basketball goals in the foyer for over ten years because it has hard wood floors and resembles a basketball court. Some things, like the towel and toilet paper holders in the powder room, are broken or missing altogether and are on a long list of to-dos that never get done.  

And yet, we are real, and I hope, welcoming. I will hug you, like Mrs. Weasley, most every visit. We are loud no matter our moods, raucous, and irreverent. More than once I’ve told my people that we aren’t hiding our crazy well in front of newcomers. Yes, we ask a lot of questions, but it’s because we care. I wish I had Mrs. Weasley’s magical ability to conjure up food, but you’re welcome to snacks and drinks, and we can always order take-out. Just ask for whatever you need. 

I hope people feel comfortable in our home, and most importantly, loved. That’s what really matters, right? That’s why the Weasleys are a beloved family in literature. They love their family, and they love others whom they treat like family. So, when I’m starting to spin about all the things that are not perfect about our home, I will try to pull myself back to reality by remembering a fictional family. “We’re the Weasleys,” I tell myself. I certainly hope so.