As I mentioned in a previous blog entry, it's normal for parents to adapt to the interests of their children.
Believe me, I have no inherent interest in ska/punk music, nor is color guard a lifelong dream of mine.
Yet I have attended countless performances and soaked in endless conversations about the excitement and merit of each activity.
And I've enjoyed it tremendously.
But now I'm left with the challenge of discovering what it is I'd really like to do now that I'm my own person again.
Does this sound familiar to you?
I've actually had to begin jotting down ideas and possible hobbies or studies I'd like to pursue now that my full-time parenting job is on hiatus.
After spending some time to focus on my identity and accepting who I am, what I know, and what I'd still like to learn.
It's been a challenge.
I also discovered that all the limits I've put on myself as far as ministering to others have been lessened greatly; I don't have to rush home to pick up the kids or put them to bed. Many doors are opening to me.
One more thing.
I've noticed that I really like to get rid of stuff. Things I'd collected over the years thinking Kari or Ryan might want them (only to realize they never did and never would) are being purged. Crafts and hobbies that kept me busy at home are now being sent elsewhere.
This is cool except for the fact that most friends my age have the same mindset.
Maybe our joke should be to never leave your car door unlocked when your friends are house purging- you may end up with more dishes and figurines and books than you know what to do with! The Goodwill donation box and I are closely acquainted.
I suggest you begin making lists, trying new things and cleaning out the old things.
It will help you concentrate on your future interests.
But keep your car doors locked.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Loss of a Family Pet
The Wasoba family mourns the loss of our dear old dog, Barney. I want to thank everyone who has been reaching out to us in sympathy.
I know Barney was only a dog, but he was my canine companion for 17 years.
He showed me the value of just being there for someone.
I loved him so much and will miss him.
Barney Wasoba
5/1994-6/2011
I know Barney was only a dog, but he was my canine companion for 17 years.
He showed me the value of just being there for someone.
I loved him so much and will miss him.
Barney Wasoba
5/1994-6/2011
Who We Are
As adults it's often difficult to know which pair of pants to wear:
Am I supposed to wear my 'mommy' pants, my 'daughter' pants or my 'spouse' pants?
Let me clarify that I'm not saying to wear your mommy's pants, daughter's pants, or spouses' pants.
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that our identity is often wrapped up in who we are to other people: I'm Bob's daughter, Bob Jr. and John's sister, Kari and Ryan's mom, Don's wife, and so on.
But being comfortable with myself as an individual is another matter. It feels kind of selfish to let me be Karen Wasoba (as awesome as that is...).
I've spent years submitting my own wants so that my family can flourish. Like most parents, Don and I have sacrificed for our children, whether it be time or money. It gets easier as time goes by.
Yet when we finally get the hang of it, the job description changes again. The kids have lives of their own, and now we'r free to do what we want to do.
Except I'm not the 25 year old young wife anymore and I'm not interested in most of the things I liked to do way back then (and NO, I'm not talking about plowing my fields or churning butter- I'm not THAT old!).
With many of us empty nesters it isn't a matter of picking up where we left off. It's a matter of re-inventing ourselves completely.
Daunting, yes, but not impossible.
Our experiences should give us confidence to know what it is we don't want to do.
That's right.
Not what we want to do because we haven't been there yet. But what we don't want to do because we've been there, done that.
Our challenge is to reach forward, to embrace new experiences, and to well, wear our own pants.
So as you think about your identity and who you are, give yourself permission to add some new things and toss out some old things. What have you learned and how have you grown as a person? What are your priorities? Interests?
I suggest that you take time thinking about who you are. Right now at this time in your life. What do you like and dislike? What have you always wanted to do (or NOT do)?
Write it down. Step away from it for a few days and then reread your answers.
Give yourself permission to accept who you and and who you're becoming.
Just think: you're designing your own pair of pants.
Am I supposed to wear my 'mommy' pants, my 'daughter' pants or my 'spouse' pants?
Let me clarify that I'm not saying to wear your mommy's pants, daughter's pants, or spouses' pants.
Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that our identity is often wrapped up in who we are to other people: I'm Bob's daughter, Bob Jr. and John's sister, Kari and Ryan's mom, Don's wife, and so on.
But being comfortable with myself as an individual is another matter. It feels kind of selfish to let me be Karen Wasoba (as awesome as that is...).
I've spent years submitting my own wants so that my family can flourish. Like most parents, Don and I have sacrificed for our children, whether it be time or money. It gets easier as time goes by.
Yet when we finally get the hang of it, the job description changes again. The kids have lives of their own, and now we'r free to do what we want to do.
Except I'm not the 25 year old young wife anymore and I'm not interested in most of the things I liked to do way back then (and NO, I'm not talking about plowing my fields or churning butter- I'm not THAT old!).
With many of us empty nesters it isn't a matter of picking up where we left off. It's a matter of re-inventing ourselves completely.
Daunting, yes, but not impossible.
Our experiences should give us confidence to know what it is we don't want to do.
That's right.
Not what we want to do because we haven't been there yet. But what we don't want to do because we've been there, done that.
Our challenge is to reach forward, to embrace new experiences, and to well, wear our own pants.
So as you think about your identity and who you are, give yourself permission to add some new things and toss out some old things. What have you learned and how have you grown as a person? What are your priorities? Interests?
I suggest that you take time thinking about who you are. Right now at this time in your life. What do you like and dislike? What have you always wanted to do (or NOT do)?
Write it down. Step away from it for a few days and then reread your answers.
Give yourself permission to accept who you and and who you're becoming.
Just think: you're designing your own pair of pants.
Monday, June 6, 2011
What Every Parent Needs as Empty Nesters
Have you ever noticed how little attention your work gets until you stop doing it? Much like housework, we perform some activities to simply please ourselves.
Seriously, don't most kids and husbands state that they don't really care if stuff is done around the house or if their socks match?
Until the regular dishes are stacked up in the sink (if they're lucky) and they've run out of paper towels to eat off. And little Joey got on the school bus wearing Janie's Hello Kitty socks.
That's similar to what I've encountered these last few weeks; even my dear hubby commented that I haven't been blogging lately.
And he never notices ANYTHING.
Several weeks ago I led a workshop entitled, "What Every Parent Needs" with an emphasis on empty nesting. I think the information was helpful and those in attendance seemed attentive (even though it began at 8 IN THE MORNING. The person scheduling this workshop must think all old(er)people get up before God does*).
So I'd like to pass this information on to you. I'm going to share this in several segments, so be prepared to take notes.
You will be quizzed later.
Empty nesting can be an emotionally challenging experience. As much as we might look forward to our children growing up and having their own lives it also means we have to have a life too. I know I've spent many hours dreaming of the day when I didn't have to drive carpool; I assumed I wouldn't have to worry anymore.
Then Kari and Ryan started driving themselves to school and I worried even more.
I imagined my own freedom and the opportunities I'd have to indulge in my own interests once the kids grew up and began their own lives.
Except over the years my interests had become what their interests were. There's nothing sadder than a band mom who has no practices to race their child to or real reason to sell Girl Scout cookies.
Not every parent transitions well; I cried Kari's entire senior year in high school. I would sob into my pillow every night, saying, "Babies aren't supposed to leave their Mamas..."
When we dropped her off at college I cried (actually whined) the whole car ride home.
I knew it had gotten out of hand when Ryan said, "I can understand how you feel, Mom, but that was ridiculous."
We've spent years mentally and physically invested in our children, only to be left clueless when they grow up and move on with their lives. Even the term 'empty nester' implies loss and even rejection. I prefer to think of this phase of life as 'winning the lottery.' It's the reward for many years of self-sacrifice.
Some parents feel at a loss as to what to do next. Like me, some of us aren't complete empty nesters because the kids are still occupying space (at least their stuff is- and their cats).
Some of us have adult children who live outside the home but haven't completely moved on from their childish behaviors and rely on us heavily. Many of us are now in the role of babysitter and errand runner while our kids struggle in entry level jobs.
The purpose of this article is to discuss various ways to transition into regaining our own individuality, finding renewed purpose in our lives, and using what we've learned to be a positive example for our friends and families.
But you'll have to wait for my next installment of this blog.
*Just a joke, relax.
Seriously, don't most kids and husbands state that they don't really care if stuff is done around the house or if their socks match?
Until the regular dishes are stacked up in the sink (if they're lucky) and they've run out of paper towels to eat off. And little Joey got on the school bus wearing Janie's Hello Kitty socks.
That's similar to what I've encountered these last few weeks; even my dear hubby commented that I haven't been blogging lately.
And he never notices ANYTHING.
Several weeks ago I led a workshop entitled, "What Every Parent Needs" with an emphasis on empty nesting. I think the information was helpful and those in attendance seemed attentive (even though it began at 8 IN THE MORNING. The person scheduling this workshop must think all old(er)people get up before God does*).
So I'd like to pass this information on to you. I'm going to share this in several segments, so be prepared to take notes.
You will be quizzed later.
Empty nesting can be an emotionally challenging experience. As much as we might look forward to our children growing up and having their own lives it also means we have to have a life too. I know I've spent many hours dreaming of the day when I didn't have to drive carpool; I assumed I wouldn't have to worry anymore.
Then Kari and Ryan started driving themselves to school and I worried even more.
I imagined my own freedom and the opportunities I'd have to indulge in my own interests once the kids grew up and began their own lives.
Except over the years my interests had become what their interests were. There's nothing sadder than a band mom who has no practices to race their child to or real reason to sell Girl Scout cookies.
Not every parent transitions well; I cried Kari's entire senior year in high school. I would sob into my pillow every night, saying, "Babies aren't supposed to leave their Mamas..."
When we dropped her off at college I cried (actually whined) the whole car ride home.
I knew it had gotten out of hand when Ryan said, "I can understand how you feel, Mom, but that was ridiculous."
We've spent years mentally and physically invested in our children, only to be left clueless when they grow up and move on with their lives. Even the term 'empty nester' implies loss and even rejection. I prefer to think of this phase of life as 'winning the lottery.' It's the reward for many years of self-sacrifice.
Some parents feel at a loss as to what to do next. Like me, some of us aren't complete empty nesters because the kids are still occupying space (at least their stuff is- and their cats).
Some of us have adult children who live outside the home but haven't completely moved on from their childish behaviors and rely on us heavily. Many of us are now in the role of babysitter and errand runner while our kids struggle in entry level jobs.
The purpose of this article is to discuss various ways to transition into regaining our own individuality, finding renewed purpose in our lives, and using what we've learned to be a positive example for our friends and families.
But you'll have to wait for my next installment of this blog.
*Just a joke, relax.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
More Painful Philosophy
Hey Everyone!
I've been slacking a bit on blogging, haven't I?
My reasons (excuses) are extensive and varied but it all comes down to this:
I've been trying to hibernate.
I don't know about you, but I consider myself a pretty strong and resilient person.
At least that's what I tell myself.
I can handle crisis and conflict, financial and even physical downturns.
I understand trials and realize they're (hopefully) temporary.
But once the real pain-physical, emotional or spiritual-hits I tend to take a tumble.
So here's where I expound eloquently about my concept of pain and the fact that I know God is still in control of my life:
It. Stinks.
Pain, that is.
But here's the thing:
I don't have to like it. I think anyone who isn't honest about their feelings about painful experiences is disrespecting the experience.
Lately several folks who hold a special place in my heart have been going through some terrible times.
Not unfortunate times or difficult times, but really gut-wrenching-I-may-not-live-through-this-or-even-want-to times.
And despite the fact I'm not personally experiencing this horror, in a big way I am.
And it hurts even second-hand.
So here's where my truthiness comes in:
It's awful and I'm hurting and I'm irritated and exhausted.
But all is not lost.
My reaction to pain is real but so is my response to the experience.
If I'm to learn something from it PLEASE let me learn it well.
Don't allow me to recoil from relationships lest I risk my own injury as I help others deal with theirs.
As a believer in Christ, it's phony to act all put-together when inside I'm falling apart.
So pain is real. My dear ones' experiences are real.
But God is Real-er.
I've been slacking a bit on blogging, haven't I?
My reasons (excuses) are extensive and varied but it all comes down to this:
I've been trying to hibernate.
I don't know about you, but I consider myself a pretty strong and resilient person.
At least that's what I tell myself.
I can handle crisis and conflict, financial and even physical downturns.
I understand trials and realize they're (hopefully) temporary.
But once the real pain-physical, emotional or spiritual-hits I tend to take a tumble.
So here's where I expound eloquently about my concept of pain and the fact that I know God is still in control of my life:
It. Stinks.
Pain, that is.
But here's the thing:
I don't have to like it. I think anyone who isn't honest about their feelings about painful experiences is disrespecting the experience.
Lately several folks who hold a special place in my heart have been going through some terrible times.
Not unfortunate times or difficult times, but really gut-wrenching-I-may-not-live-through-this-or-even-want-to times.
And despite the fact I'm not personally experiencing this horror, in a big way I am.
And it hurts even second-hand.
So here's where my truthiness comes in:
It's awful and I'm hurting and I'm irritated and exhausted.
But all is not lost.
My reaction to pain is real but so is my response to the experience.
If I'm to learn something from it PLEASE let me learn it well.
Don't allow me to recoil from relationships lest I risk my own injury as I help others deal with theirs.
As a believer in Christ, it's phony to act all put-together when inside I'm falling apart.
So pain is real. My dear ones' experiences are real.
But God is Real-er.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Humor isn't for Sissies
Humor can be a tricky thing. What one person thinks is side-splitting hilarious the other person will think is dumb.
Tastes differ, that's for sure. I'm often dumbfounded by the glee dear hubby expresses when telling me a terrific joke he heard at work.
Long after the joke has been told I'm still waiting for the punchline.
For years I thought Don's taste in jokes was juvenile; he'll outgrow it and become 'sophisticated' like me, I've told myself.
I'm still waiting.
Then I discover that most men are the same way: men will tell tall tales and stories and jokes about body functions and mothers-in-law.
Women tell jokes about men.
Is there a type of fraternity these guys all belong to? Is that why they love 'The Three Stooges?'Is that why watching someone fall off a roof or get beaned by a baseball bat is rip-roaring good fun?
Why can't they be more like us girls? We enjoy true stories about what funny comment little Joey made while saying his nightly prayers. Puppy and kitty tales (tails?) are always welcome. And we would NEVER stoop so low as to laugh at the misfortune of someone else (ahem.)
We actually take it personally when our fella's joke flops.
What, doesn't he have any intelligence at all? What kind of person does he think I am that he thought I'd like that joke?
It reminds me that God must have a sense of humor; especially when we get all riled up about what WE think is right and wrong or what is appropriate.
Or funny.
I'm amused by my common belief that the world is meant to accommodate me and my opinions. Differences aren't simply unwelcome- they're downright WRONG!
I must concede that God has given us our individuality. If I criticize someone's taste in music or movies or humor I'm insulting the One Who put it there.
I'm saying that what they think or feel isn't valid yet I fight for my own right to think and feel (and laugh) the way I want to.
So funny is relative (and my relatives ARE funny...whacka whacka whacka).
The trick is to relax, smile a little, shake your head in disbelief and look at your unfunny loved ones in awe. Rejoice that at least YOUR jokes are brilliant, well thought out and skillfully delivered.
I hope to encourage dear hubby in his joke telling. Some day maybe he'll stand at a podium somewhere to deliver an important speech, beginning with a joke that will be repeated eagerly for many years to come.
Now THAT'S funny!
Tastes differ, that's for sure. I'm often dumbfounded by the glee dear hubby expresses when telling me a terrific joke he heard at work.
Long after the joke has been told I'm still waiting for the punchline.
For years I thought Don's taste in jokes was juvenile; he'll outgrow it and become 'sophisticated' like me, I've told myself.
I'm still waiting.
Then I discover that most men are the same way: men will tell tall tales and stories and jokes about body functions and mothers-in-law.
Women tell jokes about men.
Is there a type of fraternity these guys all belong to? Is that why they love 'The Three Stooges?'Is that why watching someone fall off a roof or get beaned by a baseball bat is rip-roaring good fun?
Why can't they be more like us girls? We enjoy true stories about what funny comment little Joey made while saying his nightly prayers. Puppy and kitty tales (tails?) are always welcome. And we would NEVER stoop so low as to laugh at the misfortune of someone else (ahem.)
We actually take it personally when our fella's joke flops.
What, doesn't he have any intelligence at all? What kind of person does he think I am that he thought I'd like that joke?
It reminds me that God must have a sense of humor; especially when we get all riled up about what WE think is right and wrong or what is appropriate.
Or funny.
I'm amused by my common belief that the world is meant to accommodate me and my opinions. Differences aren't simply unwelcome- they're downright WRONG!
I must concede that God has given us our individuality. If I criticize someone's taste in music or movies or humor I'm insulting the One Who put it there.
I'm saying that what they think or feel isn't valid yet I fight for my own right to think and feel (and laugh) the way I want to.
So funny is relative (and my relatives ARE funny...whacka whacka whacka).
The trick is to relax, smile a little, shake your head in disbelief and look at your unfunny loved ones in awe. Rejoice that at least YOUR jokes are brilliant, well thought out and skillfully delivered.
I hope to encourage dear hubby in his joke telling. Some day maybe he'll stand at a podium somewhere to deliver an important speech, beginning with a joke that will be repeated eagerly for many years to come.
Now THAT'S funny!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Why I Blog
It was initially a tough sell to get me to blog.
While I enjoy reading what other people write, the topics usually underwhelm me (Reading about how drunk someone got the night before or the descriptions of irritating relatives gets old).
Following the blogosphere I find myself wondering how someone can focus so many words and so much energy on...table settings. The merits of Grey's Anatomy. Whether flash frozen peas are as nutritious as fresh peas. Whether the major storms so far experienced in 2011 in the U.S. are due to global warming.
The topic possibilities are endless, as are the opinions expressed by anyone or everyone who possesses a computer and isn't afraid to use it.
It's intimidating to think my few comments could make an impression in the vastness of information available to us. Often I'm overwhelmed by the responsibility I've taken on to join the fray and express my own quirky perspective on life.
But I think it's necessary to go where the people are. I could be stubborn and do my little workshops and seminars and speak individually to anyone I can outrun.
But there are a lot of us who don't really know what we're looking for until we stumble upon it late at night. When it's quiet and we can't sleep. When we finally have time to listen to our own thoughts. So many times I've heard people say they were surfing the net and my blog caught their attention.
And it spoke to them, providing something that came at the right time.
It's intimidating to realize that people I don't know and may never get the chance to meet read my articles. They pass them along to friends and family.
It's cool, really.
I share the thoughts and experiences that teach me something. I figure if it meant something to me it could mean something to you, too.
I sure hope so.
So in the meantime, spread the word about this blog. The goofy stuff that happens to me I freely share with you. If nothing else, it might show you that weird stuff happens to all of us. Okay, maybe to ME more often but I'm still optimistic.
It's what we do with it and how we move on that makes our lives unique.
And that's why I blog.
While I enjoy reading what other people write, the topics usually underwhelm me (Reading about how drunk someone got the night before or the descriptions of irritating relatives gets old).
Following the blogosphere I find myself wondering how someone can focus so many words and so much energy on...table settings. The merits of Grey's Anatomy. Whether flash frozen peas are as nutritious as fresh peas. Whether the major storms so far experienced in 2011 in the U.S. are due to global warming.
The topic possibilities are endless, as are the opinions expressed by anyone or everyone who possesses a computer and isn't afraid to use it.
It's intimidating to think my few comments could make an impression in the vastness of information available to us. Often I'm overwhelmed by the responsibility I've taken on to join the fray and express my own quirky perspective on life.
But I think it's necessary to go where the people are. I could be stubborn and do my little workshops and seminars and speak individually to anyone I can outrun.
But there are a lot of us who don't really know what we're looking for until we stumble upon it late at night. When it's quiet and we can't sleep. When we finally have time to listen to our own thoughts. So many times I've heard people say they were surfing the net and my blog caught their attention.
And it spoke to them, providing something that came at the right time.
It's intimidating to realize that people I don't know and may never get the chance to meet read my articles. They pass them along to friends and family.
It's cool, really.
I share the thoughts and experiences that teach me something. I figure if it meant something to me it could mean something to you, too.
I sure hope so.
So in the meantime, spread the word about this blog. The goofy stuff that happens to me I freely share with you. If nothing else, it might show you that weird stuff happens to all of us. Okay, maybe to ME more often but I'm still optimistic.
It's what we do with it and how we move on that makes our lives unique.
And that's why I blog.
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