Friday, June 6, 2014

Neighbors Who Help Me Chill Out

Every now and then I come face to face with a reality: I am a tightly wound person.

This surprises me, because, come on. I haven't deleted an email since 2009. I must be pretty laid back, right?


Almost every day, somewhere between 3:30 and 4PM, my dear sweet toddler boy awakens from his afternoon nap. Children either emerge or are picked up from their respective schools. And then it begins. Something that feels like a slow, agonizing death march to bedtime (hashtag firstworldproblems). Everything is hard. Everyone is tired. And possibly, the one person that makes this time way harder than it has to be is me.

Possibly I become a restless monster who can't just be present in the moment.

Possibly I want to just check all the things off the list. Dinner: check. Dishes: check. Bath (maybe): check. Bedtime: check. Sit and stare: check.

This evening two of my neighbors were enjoying a little happy hour, complete with snacks and drinks, on one of their porches. They invited me over, and my initial response was something like, "Uh, no I'm trying to make dinner" (it was, like 4:30 PM. Gettin' stuff done).

Then we started talking a little, and my inner monologue went something like this, "What in the world is your problem, Melissa. Have a drink with your friends. The kids are all playing anyway. YOLO, sucka."

So I ran and made myself a strong gin and tonic, got a little tipsy on my neighbor's porch, went inside with the kids and had pizza at 6:15 instead of 5, and watched part of How to Train Your Dragon -which was awesome. Death march averted. Fun last Friday night of the school year observed.

I am not necessarily advocating solving all of your problems with alcohol, but I do think it doesn't hurt to stray from your death march agenda from time to time - whether or not that involves a cocktail is your prerogative.

Happy Weekend!

Pizza on the Grill

We make a lot of pizza. There are very many ways to make dough, and if you do an internet search, you will find very many ways to make grill pizza, too. This is what works for me.

Preheat your grill to a real high heat. If you have a thermometer, you'll want it at about 500 degrees.
Roll out your pizza dough (any pizza dough will do, there is a recipe below) - a smaller circumference is easier to work with.

Put the crust on the grill for 60-90 seconds.

Using a metal spatula (or a pizza peel if you have one), take the dough off of the grill and put it cooked side up on a cutting board or baking sheet. I don't put any flour or olive oil on the board/baking sheet and don't have any problems. The other pizza maker in the family likes to put flour on everything and swears it helps with sticking.

Reduce the heat of the grill to medium-low - about 350 degrees. Put toppings on your cooked side of the crust while you wait for the grill to cool down a little. If you are working with a charcoal fire - I don't really know what to suggest. I've heard you can do hot side/cooler side, and you can play around with that. Really, I don't know - May the Lord Be With You.

Now, carefully shimmy the pizza, uncooked side down, onto the grill. Put the cover down and cook for 5 minutes, checking occasionally. You want to have the cheese melt and the dough cook through without burning the bottom.

Remove your pizza and enjoy.

*** If you are making several pizzas - the dough amount below will make 3 small thin-crust pizzas - you will want to do the first side of all three first before reducing the temperature of the grill. It's just a smoother process this way.

My crust "recipe" (often I just throw approximate quantities in the bowl and adjust until it has the right consistency - just a little bit sticky)

1 cup warm water
2 tsp. rapid rise yeast
1.5 cup whole wheat flour
1.5 cup white flour
1 tbs. olive oil
1.5 tsp salt

I use a dough hook and just through the ingredients into the mixer and let the hook do the work. You could also knead for about 5 minutes by hand. Allow to rise at least 1 hour. Roll out on a floured surface and make pizza!

Saturday, May 31, 2014

How I Am Just Like the World's 5th Most Powerful Woman

I'm about a year late to this party.

I am reading Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg, and I have to say, I am not as disgusted by it as I thought I would be.

About two and a half years ago I read her article in The Atlantic, and I think if I were a cartoon character there would have been smoke shooting out of my ears. I was agitated. Irate, even. Mind you, I had just had my third baby and was spiraling downward, downward, into postpartum depression and anxiety. But still. Side note: I read a (long-ish) magazine article with a newborn? I don't know how that happened, and I'm surprised that I even remember it.

My criticisms for her ideas were similar to others' criticisms: why make women feel so shamed and responsible for the gender disparities in these high-level sectors? Why make me feel bad for not being ambitious enough? Thank for your advice, brilliant, rich white lady, etc. etc.

So I dutifully avoided her book when it came out last year. Of course, I read a lot of other peoples' reviews of it to justify my distaste for anything she had to say and so I could chastise any friends who were reading it or talking about reading it (sorry, I'm a jerk).

And then my book group reconvened and the onus was on me to choose a book. Naturally, I chose this one. I thought, if nothing else, it would be fun to all hate a book together since usually we all love a book together. Or even better: maybe we'd get into an exhilarating yelling match.

I'm only half way through the book, and I'm disappointed to find that it might not actually cause the uncomfortable, angst-ridden debate that I was hoping for. In fact, there are some ways that I can really relate to Sheryl Sandberg, and my guess is that many women - and possibly some men - can too.

Here's the thing I really connected with and that surprised me: she also thinks that one day people might find out that she's a total fraud! Sheryl Sandberg, the 5th most powerful woman in the world (what that means, I have no idea), lacks confidence in her abilities and knowledge from time to time.

I'm not the only one who feels this way? Really?

I was not expecting this book to cause me to do any reflecting or soul-searching, but it has.

It has me thinking about all of my evaluations during nursing school. They were all excellent reviews, but I would wince each time going into them wondering if this would be the one where they would tell me they found me out. "Melissa, we can tell that you really have no idea what you're doing. You're off the island. Goodbye."

It has me remembering a discussion about faith and politics (eek, don't discuss those!) that Tom and I led when we were working together in campus ministry years ago. It went really well - good turnout, good discussion, we did everything in our power to make it go well. Afterwards, Tom asked me how I thought it went, and I had a laundry list of criticisms (mostly of myself) and ways for how we could have done better. He looked at me completely confused - probably a little hurt - and was just like, "Oh. I thought it went really well."

It has me thinking about my parenting. About how I agonize over certain decisions - and sometimes I care a little too much about what others will think. About how I don't actually enjoy playing "make a house" with the Magna-tiles for the fifth time today - and maybe you'll all find out about that and know that I'm not a very good mother.

I don't know why we do this to ourselves - why we are so critical. And while there is something particular about the way women do this to themselves, I don't really think men are completely immune either.

Recently a piece by Rob Lowe about sending his son off to college was excerpted from his memoir and posted various places online. In it he tells his son, "Don't compare your insides to other people's outsides." I think this is really wise advice (thanks, Rob Lowe), especially in our social media saturated world where everyone's outsides can be so smartly edited with Instagram filters and witty status updates. Simple words as they are, I need to repeat them to myself often.

And it was so refreshing to hear that even Sheryl Sandberg has to heed this advice at times.

So, if we know that everyone feels like a fraud on the verge of being found out from time to time, maybe we can all relax a little. I'm ok. You're ok.

And maybe we can try to think of some things that we objectively are good at. I'm going to start with pizza-making. I make really good pizza. Objectively. It's good. I will post a recipe on how to make pizza on the grill later today - and if you haven't tried grilling your pizza yet, you should!

Ok, I'll try to think of more substantive things that I'm good at, and I hope you will too.

Friday, May 23, 2014

Today I Realized That I Don't Care What You Think About My Body

I had an epiphany of sorts today.

See, I finally watched that Upworthy video that has been circulating on Facebook - the before/after one with the woman who became a bodybuilder and discovered that she still was not happy with her body. She is now on a mission to create a documentary that helps women to love their bodies.

I watched it and cried a little (of course). And then I had a thought.

Who cares if my stomach isn’t completely flat? Really, who cares?

A simple thought. An obvious one. 

Taken a little further: I don’t owe it to anyone to look a certain way.

I’m not just talking about a thought that stopped at “this is how I should think,” but more of a visceral, deep knowing that I am not merely something to be looked at. I don’t want to be an object. While this isn’t what losing weight is about for many people, this is what I realized it is largely about for me - becoming more “attractive,” whatever that means.

I’ve been trying to lose “those last 10 pounds” for my whole life. But why? So I can look the way I’m “supposed” to look? Actually, if I were to try to look the way the idealized American woman “should” look I’d have to lose something more like 50 pounds. 

Just this morning with my wonderful running buddy, I was bemoaning my 25.9 BMI. Why can’t I just get it under 25?! Awesome as she is, she set me straight pointing out how ridiculous it is to obsess about such a generalized number based on averages rather than a person’s particular make-up. And besides, the BMI thing is just another one of my smoke-screens for the real issue - that I am trying to make myself more acceptable. I’m so thankful for this deep revelation, and for this loud voice calling out to me, “ACCEPTABLE TO WHOM? TO WHOM? WHO CARES?!”

So I’m going to stop.

I am going to stop the comparing. I’m going to stop the body-part hating. I’m going to stop the calorie counting. I’m even going to stop the weighing. I am most certainly going to stop asking my husband if I look pregnant in certain dresses.

No, I’m not going to stop the running. I like doing that and it has become more about the run, and the running friends, and the challenge, than the weight loss.

I am going to live in my body. I am going to stop at 2 pieces of pizza because 3 makes me feel yucky - not because I’m afraid of gaining weight. I am going to continue to challenge my body because it feels good and helps me believe in myself - not in order to see more muscle definition in my arms. And I am going to thank God for this body that has been with me from the beginning and is good and is me.

This is my body, and it is amazing.
This body grew life and gave birth (with and without pain medication), and then, amazingly, continued to sustain that life.
This body can run really far. And then a little bit further.
This body can carry a sweet, heavy boy, and a tender little girl, and an independent big girl - if she would only let me.
This body is healthy! Cholesterol: awesome. Blood pressure: great. Blood sugar: perfect.
This body has a brain, a heart, a soul - not to be separated, all one, fearfully and wonderfully.