tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32101136239542521052024-02-06T21:31:41.960-08:00Jeannine Jersey BaileyHappy wife, mom and Alabama transplant. By day, communications, HR and organizational effectiveness professional. By night, writer and wannabe gratitude guru.Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-18854609098992469692018-06-10T19:12:00.000-07:002018-06-10T19:44:27.683-07:00The old man that gave me candy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MeDcNiTuMTCvDKfWjRFL3w5DDM-dp_ZZmSK4nNYb17_LPHLNKuyZEy0c3cDbBSjwf49of8Nlh5a3XcISrDTYjRnnhqQHxJDNiHkhfkHDOGLdYHdUXuW6vlk_KN6oYVpxDnTyaiQ-htM/s1600/Bit-O-Honey-Bars-Mini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="709" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5MeDcNiTuMTCvDKfWjRFL3w5DDM-dp_ZZmSK4nNYb17_LPHLNKuyZEy0c3cDbBSjwf49of8Nlh5a3XcISrDTYjRnnhqQHxJDNiHkhfkHDOGLdYHdUXuW6vlk_KN6oYVpxDnTyaiQ-htM/s320/Bit-O-Honey-Bars-Mini.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This week, Alabama held its primary elections, and my town
relocated some of our polling places. Two of the new polling locations shared a
parking lot, so there was a good deal of confusion as to where to go vote. As I
walked in to where I thought I should be, I saw several other voters that
looked as unsure as I was about whether we were in the right place. One couple
stood out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They were an older couple, walking slowly down the long
hall, following the signs pointing us in the direction we needed to go. I made
eye contact with the wife, as she patiently waited for her husband to make his
way down the long hall, using his cane. We exchanged smiles as I walked past,
and then, she spoke up, “Excuse me. Do you know if they have a wheelchair
around here that he could use? This is a long way for him to walk.” I didn’t,
but told her that I would go find out and rushed down the hall to find a
volunteer. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The volunteer came to meet them and it was determined that
we were all, in fact, in the wrong place, and needed to go across the parking
lot. The wife looked a little defeated, so I offered to go find someone else to
try to get a wheelchair. She explained to her husband what was happening, and
he just turned around and resolutely started making slow progress back towards
the door. </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was time for a new plan: I offered to stay walking with
him so she could get her car and pull up to the front of the building. She
agreed and hustled to go get the car. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanted to make conversation, so I asked, “Is that your
sweetheart?” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His face brightened, and he said, “She sure is. Been married
for 73 years!” </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was blown away. “”73 years? That’s amazing.”</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He smiled and paused his slow progress towards the door. I could tell that he was excited to talk about her. “No, she’s amazing. We are both veterans. We both
served in the Navy in World War II. I was over there when they dropped the bomb
and she was a nurse. When we came home, we got married right away. After what
we saw, we didn’t want to waste any time. The funny thing is that when we came
home, we couldn’t even vote because we were too young.”</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Again, I was blown away. “Wait – you couldn’t vote, even
after you had served?” (Note to self: brush up on history…)<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“The law didn’t change until many years later. So, I waited
until I turned 21, and I haven’t missed a vote since.” I could tell by the way
he was moving that he wasn’t going to miss the chance today, either. He was
making determined progress towards the door. I could see that his wife had
pulled up to the front and was craning to see him. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Well, let’s make sure you get there today.” I escorted him
towards the door, and right before we passed through, he paused and reached
into his pocket. He smiled, winked and handed me a Bit O’Honey candy. “Since you’ve
been so sweet…” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thanked him, put the candy in my pocket, helped him get in
the car and watched as his wife drove him across the parking lot to the other
polling place. As I walked to my own car, I pulled the candy out of my pocket
and smiled. I love the idea that he carried around candy in his pocket, and
that he decided to share it with me that day. I loved even more getting to hear
about their time in the service and getting to witness a love that spanned over
seven decades. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t think I’ll eat that candy. Instead, I will keep it
as a reminder of getting to meet that sweet couple that day, of their love story,
of their service and of what happens when I take a few minutes to make
connections with the people around me. </span></span></div>
Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-10166453224929355562018-05-28T17:16:00.002-07:002018-05-29T11:31:05.029-07:00She was right to be nervous, but I wish she didn't have to be<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskAzQz4AXK6bK6q2MSv0GQJLXdS9McAHDiQC4tmy0ZG21ILezKZNi2N7UGHn3NV2NA8G5iL8Q0f1ls4JKLwAtp0A4mpbFVhwk0F4VPVTvgar8IBzWhj_E7V5vxbcQV_p4DBH6akZgVUw/s1600/african-female-hand-holds-keys-white-background-isolated-92259820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="240" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjskAzQz4AXK6bK6q2MSv0GQJLXdS9McAHDiQC4tmy0ZG21ILezKZNi2N7UGHn3NV2NA8G5iL8Q0f1ls4JKLwAtp0A4mpbFVhwk0F4VPVTvgar8IBzWhj_E7V5vxbcQV_p4DBH6akZgVUw/s320/african-female-hand-holds-keys-white-background-isolated-92259820.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
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<div>
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An interaction happened at my daughter's soccer practice last month that has stayed with me ever since. A cluster of parents were sitting on the sidelines, and an African-American woman approached us with her hand extended, holding a set of car keys. She showed them to the few of us seated together and asked "Are these yours? Did anyone drop a set of keys?"<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I looked long enough to realize they weren't mine, smiled and said, "No, but thanks for asking." The other parents did the same and all shook their heads. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She frowned, sighed and said under her breath, "I wish I had never picked these things up."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Trying to be helpful, one of the dads offered a suggestion. "Why don't you go to the parking lot and hit the alarm button. That'll tell you which car it is, and the alarm will get the attention of the car owner. You can hand them off that way." He smiled and sat back in his seat, proud of himself for coming up with such a simple solution. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She shook her head and said, "Thanks, but I can't do that." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He offered a different tactic. "Or maybe don't hit the alarm, but see which car unlocks and just leave the keys on the windshield."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
She shook her head and started to walk away, "Thanks, but I can't do that either. I'll just keep making the rounds."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This man looked at all of us, and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I tried. I don't know why that wouldn't work."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The woman turned back around, chagrined and said, "I would love to be able to do that, but it's just not an option for me. You don't think it would cause some drama if a black woman was wandering around a parking lot randomly trying to unlock a car? Or making the alarm go off, holding keys that aren't hers? Thanks, but I can't risk someone calling the cops on me. I need to be able to take my son home tonight." Then, she turned to go approach the next cluster of parents on the soccer field to our right. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We all resumed watching our kids play, and after a heavy pause, the dad commented, "Does she really think that someone might call the cops? She's just trying to be helpful. Man, that's crazy." </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
But is it? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
In the month since that happened, the news has reported on a series of incidents much like the one she was afraid of. Whether it was a student falling asleep in a college library or a real estate investor checking out a new property, over and over, a white person has called the police to report "suspicious activity" by a black person, when there was really no suspicious activity at all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, this woman did have a right to be nervous. Her instinct to do a nice thing by picking up lost keys turned into something that she legitimately worried may prevent her from being able to drive her son home from soccer practice for fear of having the police called on her. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It has stuck with me ever since. I know that all of us seated together that night learned a memorable lesson about privilege. I also know that unless we all keep talking about it with each other, things will never change - and I want them to change. I want those kids playing out on the soccer field that night to grow up in a culture that doesn't assume bad intentions based on the color of their skin. I want those kids to have the true freedom to walk around in the world, without fear of being interrogated or questioned. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And you know what? I want it for their parents, too. </div>
Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-37998872473576739662018-05-14T21:04:00.001-07:002018-05-16T19:37:10.146-07:00Crying in front of strangers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
A few weeks ago, I was at one of my many doctors' appointments - this time, the endocrinologist, and he said that he was going to recommend some additional blood work to see what is going on my thyroid gland. (Spoiler alert: it's fine.) It had been a long week at work, a long week at home, and a long few weeks of feeling like I was getting lots of tests and no answers. So, to learn that I had to have MORE tests was not what I wanted to hear. <br />
<br />
It was the end of the day for the lab where he sent me to have my blood drawn too. The helpful nurse in his office recommended I scurry over before they closed for the afternoon. So, I ran (literally ran) down the hallway to the lab, and sure enough, they were closed. I tucked my tail and went back to the doctor's office to report my failure, and the helpful nurse offered to escort me down the hallway to the lab to see if she would have better luck than I did. <br />
<br />
When we got to the door, she knocked, and a very frustrated woman came to the door. "Can I help you?" The helpful nurse explained what I needed, and the lab technician told her that it was too late because she was already shut down for the night. As the helpful nurse tried to plead on my behalf, I felt the end of my nose start to tingle and my cheeks get hot, and I knew that I was going to cry. <br />
<br />
Embarrassed, I scurried towards the elevator and mumbled that I would just come back another day. Helpful Nurse insisted, "No, we can work this out." Lab Lady wasn't feeling it, but saw that I was crying and said I could come on in. Helpful Nurse came over to the elevator, took me by the hand, and led me back to the lab and told me to call her the next day for a follow up appointment. <br />
<br />
Lab Lady went about getting everything set up to get what the doctor had ordered, and I just sat there and cried, silently. I was worn out, exhausted, frustrated, scared - and hitting the road block of the lab being closed (which would have meant taking more time off of work, delayed results, etc.) was the straw that broke this camel's back. I am not a huge fan of crying to begin with, much less in front of strangers, so I was mortified on top of everything else. <br />
<br />
I apologized, trying to explain why I was so upset and thanked her for reopening the lab after she had already closed down for the day (a few minutes early, but who's counting?). She simply said, "We all have days like that. Don't worry about it." Then, she took the blood efficiently and sent me on my way. <br />
<br />
Fast forward to my follow up appointment where the doctor says that since my thyroid has turned out to be fine that he wants to check my pituitary gland, and wants to get more lab work done. (Another spoiler alert: it's fine, too.) Imagine my dread when I was sent back to see Lab Lady for the follow up tests. I walked in to the lab, signed in and sat down to wait. No more than 20 seconds later, she called me back.<br />
<br />
I debated whether I should acknowledge that I was "The Crier" from a few weeks earlier, but decided to let sleeping dogs lie and stay silent while she went about getting everything ready for my blood draw. I was looking out the window trying to avoid eye contact, when I heard her sniff and turned to face her.<br />
<br />
Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and her lips were pursed tightly. She was doing everything she could not to cry. I asked, "Are you okay?" and she quickly apologized. I waved it off and asked her again, "Please don't apologize. You seem upset. Are you okay?" This time, she didn't hold back. She told me about how her mom had passed away a year prior, and that today, on the anniversary, she was missing her even more than she expected. She'd had an extremely vivid dream about her the night before and when she woke up and realized that it was only a dream, she was feeling the loss all over again. <br />
<br />
I asked her if it was alright if I hugged her, and she nodded. So, I stood there and hugged Lab Lady as she cried for a solid five minutes. When she ran out of steam, she pulled back and apologized again. I said, "Please don't apologize. I don't know if you remember me or not, but I was in here crying just last week! Now, we are even!" Then, I asked her to tell me about her mom and what she loved most about her. She brightened and started telling me about some of the many wonderful memories of her mom while she started to take my blood again. <br />
<br />
After she was finished and I was getting ready to head out the door, I asked her if she was going to be alright. She assured me she would and thanked me for being there when she needed some comfort. I thanked her for allowing me to fall apart the week prior and said, "I guess our paths were destined to cross for just that reason!" <br />
<br />
We will probably never see each other again (no offense, but I hope not because I am all done with getting blood drawn, thankyouverymuch!), but I am so glad that we were able to come full circle and see each other just one more time. After feeling so embarrassed about my own crying, I didn't want to even make eye contact with her - and it turned out that I was in the perfect position to be there for her because of the very fact that I had cried in the first place. It always amazes me how God can line that up, if we are paying attention. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-26947787841238317602018-02-03T11:53:00.002-08:002018-11-24T10:33:19.516-08:00Me too.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZs9eB_SCZ20k9cOGQkCKkliGw6BZnsNEwoYSrfXxS0qT4nbaPmTIqUK4eGq-3YblENv9jxNBODsHivop9u44l0zolbYkzhfpNyi5xGn49ZaBcdmdB80b5J1NNVqNvQQpbWvAh-vGyiXc/s1600/Me+Too.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1024" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZs9eB_SCZ20k9cOGQkCKkliGw6BZnsNEwoYSrfXxS0qT4nbaPmTIqUK4eGq-3YblENv9jxNBODsHivop9u44l0zolbYkzhfpNyi5xGn49ZaBcdmdB80b5J1NNVqNvQQpbWvAh-vGyiXc/s320/Me+Too.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
About fifteen years ago, I had a #metoo experience, while working as the Assistant Program Director of a radio station in Connecticut. My station was part of a four-station cluster, and we shared a large break room/cafeteria space. That space was right across the hall from my office, which meant that I had a high volume of visitors as people from all of the stations came and went to eat their breakfast or lunch. Usually, as an extrovert, I loved all of the activity, but some days, when I was under a deadline, I longed for some quiet. <br />
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One day, after I had been working there about a year and a half, I was heating up my lunch during a rare quiet moment in the break room, planning on scurrying back to my office to eat at my desk. The morning show host from one of the other stations came in to get a cup of coffee. He was a large, stocky man, twice my age, with a big ego, and usually, a bad attitude. I never really had much reason to talk to him, but I wanted to be polite. So, we made chit chat, and he drank his coffee while my food heated up. The microwave dinged to let me know my food was ready, and I grabbed it and headed towards my office. He tossed his coffee cup in the trash and continued to make conversation as he followed closely behind me. <br />
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I remember that he changed the topic to the upcoming Christmas party, as I put my lunch down on my desk and turned around to try to politely dismiss him so I could eat and get back to work. As I turned around, he was already in my personal space, and before I knew what was happening, he had reached both arms around me, with his hands on my backside and pulled me forcefully against him, asking if I was going to dance with him at the Christmas party. His voice was hot and low in my ear, and a shiver of disgust ran through my entire body. I pushed him away with both hands, and said, as clearly as I could, "I don't think so."<br />
<br />
He chuckled, and said, "We'll see." Then, he smirked and backed out of the room, hands up in mock innocence. <br />
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I slumped down in my desk chair to collect myself, and immediately, started wondering what I had done to make him think I would welcome an advance like that. I questioned what signals I may have been putting out unintentionally or what I may have said that would make him think I would be receptive to him. For the rest of the entire day, I was distracted, sullen and quiet. <br />
<br />
The next day didn't feel any better. Neither did the day after that, or the one that followed. I was anxious every time I heard his voice in the hallway, and I didn't want to go into the break room for fear of running into him again. I could have sworn that he was purposely hanging outside of my doorway having conversations with our co-workers to try to make me uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
At the end of the week, I finally decided to say something to one of my fellow female managers that worked in a different department. She listened as I laid out the details, and I asked her, after I recounted them all, "What did I do to bring this on?" She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Absolutely nothing" and encouraged me to report him to our General Manager. <br />
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I was nervous about going to our General Manager - not because of how I worried that she would respond, but because I didn't want to be perceived as a troublemaker or a tattletale. Working in the radio industry came with certain expectations of big personalities, people that pushed the envelope, actions that were meant to get a reaction or be perceived as funny. As the manager of one of our stations, I was worried that by talking to our General Manager, that I would be seen as someone that couldn't take a joke or was too uptight. We had a very fun, light-hearted environment at work, and I didn't want to do anything that changed that. <br />
<br />
After a few days to weigh the pros and cons, I ultimately decided that I needed to speak up, if for no other reason, in case he would do something similar to one of the women that worked for me. The GM could not have been kinder when I did. She listened, took notes, and promised to get to the bottom of it. <br />
<br />
True to her word, she conducted an investigation, but the end result was a case of "he said, she said". He claimed complete innocence, saying it never happened, that he wasn't even in my office at all that day. There were no witnesses that happened to walk by to corroborate either of our accounts of the events of that day. There were no security cameras to capture any of our movements that day either. <br />
<br />
Our final discussion on the matter was when she told me that there was really nothing that she could do. She said she believed me, but that without any definitive proof, there was too much liability to take any action against him. She had advised him to steer clear of my office and the space outside, and advised me to keep a "buddy" around to avoid any future incidents. That was the best solution to the problem: avoid being alone. <br />
<br />
Every day until the day his contract wasn't renewed and left the company, I walked around on edge. Thankfully, it was only a few months after our incident that his contract expired. <br />
<br />
In the scope of workplace harassment incidents, mine is very minor. I know that. But I am telling it because I have heard a lot of backlash with questions about "Why did it take so long for them to speak up?" or "Why didn't she report it at the time?" or "What part did she play in encouraging it?" I think stories like mine are a large part of the reason that so many women didn't come forward until now. Even though I did come forward, the burden of proof was really on me to establish that it was a credible story and I wasn't able to do so. So, he was able to skate free, with no consequences.<br />
<br />
This guy was not in a position of power over me and had no say in my employment, but I can imagine that if he were, it would be even more difficult to feel comfortable coming forward. I know, for a fact, that I did nothing to encourage this man, either. The women that I reported the incident to could not have been more supportive or responsive, and yet, I still had trepidation about coming forward. I can only imagine what it would be like to have to go report to a manager that didn't have the same reputation for being kind and open. <br />
<br />
It's not cut and dry. This is a tricky conversation because we do want to presume someone is innocent until proven guilty, and we do have a statute of limitations on these types of activities. This is also tricky because we don't want men and women to think they can't interact at all without opening the door to being harassed or being accused of being a harasser. <br />
<br />
At the time of my incident, the best solution was just not to be alone. I think we can do better today. If the solution to this issue is teaching women how to defend themselves or avoid being harassed, then, we are looking at the problem from the wrong perspective. The answer must lie with teaching everyone how to treat each other with respect, regardless of gender or other differences. If the solution proposed is a system that makes it simpler to report an incident, than we are acquiescing to a culture that allows for these incidents to continue to occur. If we are relying on the victims to start "feeling brave enough" to come forward, then, we aren't taking enough responsibility for our behavior in looking out for those that may be vulnerable and correcting those that show signs of the aggressive behavior. Any solution that involves getting the victims to take different actions is really just clearing away the cobwebs when what we should really be focused on is eliminating the spider that is creating them. <br />
<br />
I don't have an answer that will solve all of this, but I do know that part of the solution has to be for anyone who has had an experience to be able to speak up and be heard. Recently, I heard a male colleague say that he wished that we could just get to a place where this wasn't an issue and we all just treated each other respectfully, as the human beings we all are. <br />
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Me too. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-47898909896279279802017-11-05T18:57:00.001-08:002017-11-05T18:57:43.557-08:00Sometimes, it's alright for everybody to get a trophy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When Diana was three, she took ballet lessons through a company that came to her day care during the day. It was perfect for us - she got to try it out to see if she like it, and Steven and I were spared having to race to get her somewhere after school. <br />
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At the end of the year, they had a recital for the parents to see what they learned over the year. In the weeks leading up to the recital, there were several rounds of paperwork and forms to fill out to make sure that everyone had the right costume and knew where to be at the right time. Normally, paperwork and forms fall to me to fill out, since I am the keeper of the family calendar. <br />
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The recital was a big deal! We invited both sets of Diana's grandparents to come, and got there early to make sure we had a good seat on the end of the aisle for my dad (who has a little trouble getting around). Steven went to scout out the seats, and I went to check Diana in and wrangle her into her costume. <br />
When we checked in, they gave her two different bracelets, and I couldn't quite figure out why. They told me that one was to make sure that they knew she had checked in, and mumbled something about the other one was for something we had signed up for. I assumed it was something like a group photo, and just hurried Diana backstage. <br />
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We sat through about 90 minutes of other kids' dance routines, until finally, it was her big moment. We all craned our necks to see and beamed at her from our seats. She looked so proud of herself as she and her friends executed the little routine that they had been working on all year. <br />
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It said in the program that they asked all audience members to stay seated until the end of the program out of respect to the other kids dancing, but since my dad needed a little extra time to get up and moving, we decided that we would exit after Diana and get my dad out to his car before the mad rush. <br />
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As we were starting to sneak towards the exit, I heard the emcee announce that all of the dancers that were getting trophies would be coming to the stage and encouraged applause for each dancer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw little Diana standing at the end of a row of about 12 girls, all much older than she was, just smiling away and looking so proud. <br />
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In a panic, I hunched down, turned to Steven and whispered, "Is that Diana? What is she doing up there?" <br />
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He looked clueless and equally panicked, and then, I saw a realization come over his face. He said, "I think I signed her up for a trophy." <br />
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Dumbfounded, I asked, "Why would you sign her up for a trophy? They were only for kids that have been dancing with the company for three years!"<br />
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He shot back, "I don't know! There were lots of forms, and one day, the lady at the front desk asked me if you had signed all the papers, and just to make sure I signed all of them. I was trying to be helpful!"<br />
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Now, my stomach was totally sinking, "But they were only for girls that have been dancing for three years."<br />
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"Well, I don't know. I was in a hurry, so when I saw the thing about a trophy, I said 'Hell, yes, I want my baby to get a trophy. I didn't read it all the way through."<br />
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I heard the emcee ask all of the parents of the children getting trophies to come down to the front to collect them after they had received it, and I realized that one of us were going to have to go down front. Steven just started laughing, pointed at me, and then, down to the front of the stage, where the other parents were already gathering with their balloons and bouquets of flowers. Steven headed towards the back to help my dad to the door, and I slunk down towards the front trying to figure out what the heck I was going to do to get Diana off the stage before she got a trophy that she wasn't supposed to get. <br />
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I crouched in the front of the stage next to a small group of moms, and the woman next to me, leaned over and asked, "Which one is yours?" as she looked at my empty hands and panicked expression. I silently pointed towards the smallest girl at the very end of the line, who had no idea that she wasn't supposed to be there. When she looked at me with a puzzled look on her face, I said, "My husband misunderstood the form, and signed her up. I had no idea this was going to happen." She started laughing, and said, "Well, didn't they give you the rundown when you got her wristbands?" <br />
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Then, I started laughing, "So, THAT is what the extra wristband was for!"<br />
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She smiled gently, and pulled a few stems out of the bouquet in her arms, and said, "Your baby deserves some flowers if she's going to get a trophy." Then, she got up to go collect her (much older) child and her trophy. <br />
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Up on the stage, the emcee got to Diana at the end of the line, and asked her to introduce herself. With the poise of a Miss America contestant, she looked straight out at the audience, leaned into the microphone, and said, "Diana Dawn Bailey". Everyone started clapping, and she started jumping up and down from excitement. I ran up on the stage to collect her and escort her back to where she had gotten dressed, and she jumped up into my arms, yelling, "Momma, I got a trophy!" <br />
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I hugged her tightly, and carried her offstage, and just said, "Yes, you did, baby. Yes, you did."<br />
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Because sometimes, it's alright when everybody gets a trophy. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-55812050794512920372017-10-29T18:00:00.002-07:002017-10-30T11:48:22.684-07:00The night I forgot the words to the Star Spangled BannerFacebook reminded me this morning that nine years ago today, I had one of the most embarrassing nights of my life. However, in the years since, it has turned out to be one of my favorite stories to tell. It's funny how time changes our perspective life that.<br />
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When I lived in Connecticut, Damon Scott, the afternoon personality on the radio station I worked for, also worked for the local AHL team, the Hartford Wolfpack. He was the guy that went out on the ice between periods to get the crowd to play games or ran around the stands giving away prizes. Every so often, I would join him or fill in for him if he had a conflict - the team even made me my own special jersey. <br />
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One day, while waiting to go out on the ice, it came up in conversation that one time, I had sung the National Anthem for the local WNBA team, the Connecticut Suns.</div>
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I told them if they ever ended up in a pinch without someone to sing, I would be glad to help out. They said they would call if they did, but I honestly thought it was never going to happen. </div>
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So, on the afternoon of October 29, 2008, we got a call at the station that someone had backed out for that night, and they asked if I could cover. I was nervous, but I agreed to sing that night. I hustled down to the Civic Center, arriving just in time to go out for the anthem. <br />
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They laid out a red carpet on the ice for me to walk on, and handed me a microphone. The lights dimmed and the announcer said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please rise for the singing of our National Anthem. Tonight, it will be sung by 96.5 TIC's Jeannine Jersey". I walked out, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and started singing. <br />
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"Oh, say can you see, by the dawn's early light...."<br />
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I remember thinking, "This isn't so bad. I was nervous for nothing," and then, I opened my eyes. <br />
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"What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming..."<br />
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I looked around the arena as I sang, and saw the men with their hats in their hands, the children with their hands over their hearts, and felt proud to be asked to be part of this great tradition. <br />
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"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight..."<br />
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Then, I looked up at the Jumbotron, and caught a glimpse of myself on the big screen - and something felt really wrong. My lips seemed out of sync for what I was singing. (I know now that the video just had a slight delay, but in real time, I didn't understand what I was seeing.) <br />
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"O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming..."<br />
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And I froze. I was so thrown off by what I saw on the Jumbotron that I completely lost my place in the song, a song that I had sung hundreds of times before. I paused, hoping it would come back to me - and there was NOTHING. My hand holding the microphone dropped to my side.<br />
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The silence was deafening. My face turned red. I felt lightheaded, like I was going to pass out from embarrassment. My eyes started to burn with tears about to fall. I had frozen in front of all of those people, and had no idea what to do. <br />
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Then, behind me, I heard one of the guys that worked for the Wolfpack, started to sing at the top of lungs. "And the rockets red glare...."<br />
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The people sitting in the section next to where he was standing joined in and started singing too: "The bombs bursting in air..."<br />
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And soon, the whole arena was singing, "Gave proof through the night, that our flag was still there...."<br />
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I laughed, looked at my friend with gratitude, picked up the mic, and joined in. "Oh, say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave...O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave..."<br />
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The crowd cheered, laughed and clapped as I gave a small wave and scurried off the red carpet and back into the dark recesses of the arena under the stands. <br />
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I was mortified - more embarrassed than I could ever remember being in my entire life, but was already laughing at what had just happened. I remember thinking, "If I don't find a way for this to be funny, I am never going to get over it." <br />
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So, I started looking for the humor in the situation, and for the lessons I could take away from the experience. Here's what I learned:<br />
1. You can't actually die from embarrassment. Sure, that moment was awful - but I survived it and many other embarrassing moments since. <br />
2. Sometimes, one voice in the silence can make all the difference. My friend saw that I was in trouble and put his own pride aside to help me. I'll never forget his kindness.<br />
3. Help is contagious. When others heard him, they joined in, and together, we got through it. <br />
4. I have a choice - when I make a big mistake, I can let it define me and wallow or I can find the humor in it or lessons from it, and move forward, stronger. <br />
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Just last week, I was sharing this story with some co-workers and a woman that was in our office interviewing for a job. We were all laughing because, let's face it, it's kind of hilarious. I love sharing this story now, and I am glad that time has given me the perspective to see how funny it really is! Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-76113861504859024632017-08-20T18:11:00.002-07:002017-08-20T18:28:15.003-07:00Warm crow tastes better than cold crow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Have you ever held on to something for way longer than it served any good purpose? A resentment or guilt about something you had done? Have you ever experienced what it's like when you really let it go? <br />
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Many years ago, I made a big mistake at work - and it cost the company some money. I exercised some really poor judgement, and to make it worse, I never owned up to it directly. I let my boss think someone else was to blame, and never set the record straight before I left to take another job a few months later. <br />
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Instead of looking at what I had done, it was easier to think about what I imagined the management there had done to me (paid me too little, worked me too many hours and many other minor imagined injustices). The longer I let it go without owning up to it, the more I felt justified in doing so. I spent a lot of time, effort and energy thinking about this incident and the people I used to work for - every time I did, shame, guilt and resentment boiled to the surface. <br />
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Years later, I had a valued mentor point out that I was letting this incident take up valuable real estate in my head and that I had all the power in the world to make it go away. She suggested that I write a letter to them and own up to what I had done and offer to pay them back. She told me to pray about the situation, pray for the right words, and pray for all of the people involved. <br />
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Begrudgingly, I did what she suggested. <br />
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I'll admit that I didn't feel better instantly. I kept the people involved in my prayers for weeks. I still thought about that situation from time to time in the months after sending the letter, but then, somewhere along the way, it left me. I am not sure when, but it did and here's how I realized it.<br />
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Fast forward to this past weekend, when my sister (who still lives in the same town) ran into my former boss at a concert. She texted me to tell me - and it actually took me a few minutes to even remember who she was talking about. When I finally remembered who she was talking about, I didn't have an emotional reaction or weird feeling - there was nothing. No shame. No guilt. No resentment. Nothing. <br />
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My sister followed up with a photo of the two of them together, and it made me smile. My former boss looks great, and I told my sister to share my good wishes to her. It actually made my heart happy to see her smiling face, and I spent a few minutes thinking about the good memories of my time working for her. <br />
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If you had told me when the incident happened that I would be better served to own up to my mistake than to stay quiet, I would have told you that you were dead wrong. If you had told me that I could feel that way about my former boss, I would have told you that you were crazy. If you had told me that I didn't have to carry around those negative feelings for so many years, I would have argued with you that I was justified to do so. <br />
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I was wrong. It was actually more freeing to tell the truth and to own up to my mistake. The freedom I got from saying a few prayers and sending a letter was a thousand times better than the short term effort of doing so. <br />
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I've heard it said that "warm crow tastes better than cold crow" - and I know that to be true. It is way easier to make amends when the incident is still fresh and feelings are still injured. If I let it fester, I can turn it into something bigger and worse than it really is. Worse, if I let it fester, I can make it someone else's fault and convince myself I don't have anything to make amends for at all. <br />
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There's a 100% chance that I will make (many) mistakes again - hopefully, they will be new ones and not repeats, but I will make them. This experience was a powerful reminder that the real freedom comes from owning up to them and not in getting away with them. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-23885634952534568762017-05-26T08:36:00.000-07:002017-05-26T09:09:01.643-07:00What I learned after running through the airport<br />
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Anyone that knows me knows that I love a good plan and schedule. I live by my calendar and pride myself on being organized. Lately, that has become even more necessary due to my increased work travel. With life getting more and more hectic, it soothes me to be able to look on my calendar and know that everything is "handled".<br />
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For the past three weeks, I have been on the road for work and the mommy guilt has been strong. That got kicked up a notch last week when I got a note from Diana's school with instructions for this week's "end of year program". When I put it on the calendar at the beginning of the year, I thought it was some sort of classroom party, so it didn't register that it was, for all intents and purposes, a mini-graduation. I was scheduled to be at a conference all week (and had even told some of my colleagues that I would cover a big meeting at the conference so they could go to their own children's graduations). I figured Steven could bring the snacks or whatever we signed up to bring and that would be that.<br />
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Then, when the note came, I knew that I couldn't miss it. Flights were changed, plans were scrapped, meetings reassigned - but it was all going to work out, after a little scrambling. I got up before the crack of dawn to make my flight in order to be home in time, and everything seemed to be coming together until my flight from Phoenix landed in Atlanta.<br />
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I knew the connection time was going to be a little tight, but my heart sunk when the announcement came on that we weren't able to pull up to the gate right away. I was in the back of the plane and there were hundreds of people that were going to need to get off before I did. I looked at my phone for the gate for my connecting flight and it was in another terminal. My heart sunk again. I watched the status on my phone change to "Boarding" for my next flight and watched the clock tick forward over and over as I waited for the plane to pull up and the other passengers to get OUT OF MY WAY! (Side note: I didn't actually yell that, which is a testament to some major spiritual progress...)<br />
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When I was finally able to deplane, I took off running. Literally. It was not a graceful run, since I was lugging a heavy purse and pushing/pulling a rolling suitcase. Between my huffs and puffs, I muttered "Excuse me!" and "I'm sorry!" to everyone I passed or bumped, but I didn't look back because I was only focused on getting on that next plane. I hobbled down the escalator as far as I could hoping that shaving a few extra seconds off of my time would get me on the next tram to the right terminal, and just in the nick of time, jumped on the tram. When the tram stopped, I shoved my way off and started running again. First, up the escalator, and then, through the terminal, again muttering to everyone I passed.<br />
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All I could think was "please don't let me miss this flight, please don't let me miss this flight..." My mommy guilt kept my legs moving, faster than they have in a long time. In my head, I could hear my daughter saying "Mommy, why do you keep working all the days? When are you coming home?" I didn't want to let my girl down.<br />
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Finally, I arrived at the gate, right as they were making their last call. There was one woman in line ahead of me, and one person at the gate. Something was wrong with his ticket, so the flight attendant starting working on the computer trying to get it sorted out. I let out a huge sigh of relief and slumped over the handle of my suitcase. The woman in front of me turned around, placed her hands on top of mine, looked me in the eyes and said, "Breathe, baby, you made it." I just nodded and complied. "Take another one, baby. You're okay. I don't want you to fall out and miss your plane after all that running."<br />
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I apologized and told her that I didn't mean to be such a mess. I started to explain about my crazy three weeks of travel and having to change everything around to make this flight because I didn't pay close enough attention, and she stopped me and said, "Honey, it's always going to be something. You made it. That's all she's going to even remember. Don't pile on guilt that doesn't need to be there."<br />
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The ticket agent figured out the person's issue in front of us and we all made our way down the gangway. My new friend chatted as we walked down the aisle about her travels to see all of her grandbabies that were graduating and how proud she was of them. Her voice was so soothing that I felt my angst just fall away. Right before we got on the plane, she turned around and said, "I mean it, now. No more piling on guilt that doesn't need to be there. Remember to breathe, baby, and you'll be fine." She covered my hands with hers one more time, smiled, and took her seat.<br />
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I am so grateful for that woman. She recognized my angst and chose to reach out, instead of ignore. Her kind words of reassurance and the reminders to breathe helped more than she could probably imagine. It was a powerful example for me of the need to pay attention to those around us and look for a chance to connect and offer assurances. She could have been playing on a phone and not noticed or chosen to ignore the panting, hot mess of a mom behind her in line. Instead, she reached out, extended some grace and mercy and it made all the difference.Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-67805447359157450252017-04-16T17:18:00.002-07:002017-04-16T17:28:55.712-07:00Back in the saddleIt has been way too long since I have taken the time to sit down and write.<br />
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For the past few months, there have been reminders of what I posted "on this day" from Facebook, and it brought back memories of events or moments that I had forgotten about completely. It started tugging at my mind that I needed to make the time to get back in the habit of sitting down to write from time to time. When I take the time to sit and write, I always have gained perspective on whatever has happened and always benefit from taking the time to pause and reflect.<br />
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Today, the sermon at church was about the magic that happened when the stone rolled away on Easter to reveal that Jesus wasn't in the tomb anymore and about how we need to let God roll away whatever "stone" is in our way and keeping us from being the person we want to be. One of the things our pastor admitted to struggling with was being in a hurry and not wanting to take the time to stop and reflect. It was like he was reading my mind - I can absolutely relate to that.<br />
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So, tonight, after a very lovely afternoon with family when S suggested taking Diana to a movie, I asked him to do that solo so I could have some time to myself.<br />
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There's this weird trick that my mind will play on me to keep me from doing something I enjoy - maybe you can relate. It tells me that I don't have time to do it perfectly, so I shouldn't do it at all. If I am not able to commit to writing again on a daily basis, then, my mind tells me that there's just no point in starting again at all. So, a week goes by. Then, a month. Then, because time has passed, I start to tell myself that the next thing I write better be extra significant to make up for the time that has passed. Then, a year passes, and before I know it, it's been two and a half years, and I have squandered all of the opportunities to capture those day to day moments that I have been enjoying revisiting.<br />
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This isn't a new phenomenon - I even wrote about it back in 2012 (http://jeanninejersey.blogspot.com/2012/05/its-allor-its-nothing.html). And it doesn't just apply to writing. As I said in that previous post, it's all or nothing with me with pretty much everything, but that isn't going to work anymore. I need to shift my mindset back to doing the best I can with the time and energy I have for the day and ask God to roll away the stones that get in my way.<br />
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So, tonight, I am basically breaking the silence. I don't know how regularly I can commit to writing, but the beauty of it is, that no one else is actually asking me to commit to anything! The pressure to do something perfectly or every single day is all self-generated, so if I can extend myself a little grace and take the pressure off, I think I will like being "allowed" to write here again.<br />
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Today was a day I want to remember. The sermon and music at the Easter service at church spoke to my heart. The weather was absolutely lovely. S and I took Diana up to Blountsville to spend time with his family, ate a fantastic lunch, and then, Diana got to swim in Nana and Big Daddy's pool. As you can see, she had a blast! When I look back in my memories from this day, I am going to be glad I took the time today to let God roll my stone away and help me to get back in the saddle.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First swim of the year!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9SUFk4NTiO99qs2XTC7whgIFiqpCuJCZj4RTVGaXGIP2_CfRw7SlVTP1a5_solsapWhBM-ShnX3RyowL319ILxbr00noQaRWhElOcqmau6cYxw-g0h7wzBDmq34MrnK-VOe0cXUSpkA/s1600/IMG_5205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP9SUFk4NTiO99qs2XTC7whgIFiqpCuJCZj4RTVGaXGIP2_CfRw7SlVTP1a5_solsapWhBM-ShnX3RyowL319ILxbr00noQaRWhElOcqmau6cYxw-g0h7wzBDmq34MrnK-VOe0cXUSpkA/s320/IMG_5205.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Life is good!</td></tr>
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<br />Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-23290959732905782892014-12-21T15:41:00.001-08:002014-12-21T15:45:00.150-08:00Grace at the grocery store<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB24FsyB6NNnOpxcz_pG5n6dniQ0ZJ5dpOxYETxt_0-lpedz8RFlKIZzzH994aUPB5RYDXWtnGXjjqV8lVwqMbRQNjzKy9W9Rl6qbQotq4agfafilUdbsoguGFcrUGEF_N0fIapuHwWGU/s640/blogger-image-553042647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB24FsyB6NNnOpxcz_pG5n6dniQ0ZJ5dpOxYETxt_0-lpedz8RFlKIZzzH994aUPB5RYDXWtnGXjjqV8lVwqMbRQNjzKy9W9Rl6qbQotq4agfafilUdbsoguGFcrUGEF_N0fIapuHwWGU/s640/blogger-image-553042647.jpg"></a></div><br></div>This afternoon, I made my weekly trip to the grocery store. We have friends coming over for dinner tonight, and I had a long list of things to get for Christmas dinner too. <div><br></div><div>I was hurrying through my list and getting frustrated by the fact that I had to go from end to end of the store to get things I overlooked on my first trip through the aisles. There were lots of other people in the store this afternoon, all on similar missions to mine, so I was held up more than once while waiting for another patron to make their selection with their cart parked out in the middle of the aisle.</div><div><br></div><div>When I was finally finished and ready to head to the checkout, each register had about 3 people waiting. I sighed and started to push my cart towards the front.</div><div><br></div><div>I heard this really loud jingling - like there were about a dozen Salvation Army bell ringers somewhere nearby - and looked up to see a dancing, stuffed elf hat on one of the shelves between me and the register. To my right, I heard giggling and saw a 10 year old boy dart towards the dancing hat - while leaving his cart directly in front of mine with no room to get around.</div><div><br></div><div>An exasperated voice said, "Tony, you can't leave your cart in the middle of the aisle! Come back here!" When I looked to see the person attached to the voice, I saw a dad with three other kids in tow. The poor guy looked like he had been through quite the afternoon. </div><div><br></div><div>In that moment, I knew I had a choice: I could either silently push past the abandoned cart with a grimace on my face, or I could offer a word of encouragement to a guy that was clearly having "one of those days". </div><div><br></div><div>I put on my biggest smile, and said, "How could he not stop? It's a singing, jingling elf hat! No big deal - I can go around." The dad smiled a very relieved smile, and I saw his shoulders drop about 6 inches. The little boy came back to his dad with a grin on his face and started dancing along to the music eminating from the hat. We all just laughed!</div><div><br></div><div>It was a small moment, a tiny gesture, and honestly, not that big a deal in the grand scheme of things - but it gave me pause. In EVERY moment, we have choices like that: we can grimace our way through or offer a smile and kind word, we can sulk in silence or pick up the phone, or we can walk away mad or turn and try to have a civil conversation. I think it all adds up. After that brief encounter, I was in a better mood and carried that home with me. I was excited to share that moment with my husband and with you, and I know that the dad with four kids was grateful to have a positive interaction rather than a negative one. </div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-43475144390323657692014-06-16T18:13:00.000-07:002014-06-16T18:13:44.223-07:00The best non-advice I ever got about parenting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The dang Huffington Post always sucks me in with their headlines: "The 4 Things You Must Never Say To Your Daughter" or "The 7 Ways To Make Sure You Have The Perfect Child", or something along those lines. Whoever they have working for them to write those headlines deserves every penny. I always find myself clicking through to read the wisdom promised to be shared in the article they've posted.<br />
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The funny thing is that I have never finished reading one of those articles or blogs and really felt like I have just unlocked some secret about parenting that is going to alter the course of my life forever. They are entertaining. I relate to a good deal of them, a least a little. Earth shattering? Life changing? Not hardly.<br />
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Actually, some of the best parenting advice I ever got was from someone that was basically telling me to ignore parenting advice, in general. Here's what happened:<br />
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Right after S and I found out that we were pregnant, we went to S's friend's child's birthday party. Soon, all of the attendees found out that we were expecting, and the advice starting FLOWING. Now, I didn't want to be rude, so I politely listened, smiled and nodded. I even thanked most of the people that offered the unsolicited advice - most of which directly contradicted anything said by the person before or after.<br />
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I was beginning to feel slightly overwhelmed, and then, the sister of my husband's friend pulled me aside. I fully expected to get another dose of parenting wisdom, since she had just had a child of her own a couple of years prior. Instead, she said something that I locked on to and haven't let go since.<br />
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She leaned in, looked me in the eye and asked, "Jeannine, do you have a couple of really good girlfriends?"<br />
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Confused, I said, "Of course, I do. I have some of the best friends in the world."<br />
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Smiling, she sat back and said, "Good! Have they have kids?"<br />
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Still confused, I replied, "Yes, some of them have."<br />
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Smiling even bigger, she asked, "Do you like those kids? Did they turn out pretty well?"<br />
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Now, totally confused, I simply answered, "Well, yeah. Most of them are great!"<br />
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She slapped her hands on her legs and stood up, satisfied with my answer. "Perfect. Then, ignore these people. Listen to your gut and your girlfriends. Call them when you want advice, and don't get bogged down in what anyone else thinks, especially perfect strangers at a kid's birthday party. Keep your circle small, and you'll be fine."<br />
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I laughed and let her help me up out of the chair. I understood. We started to walk back towards everyone else at the party, and then, she suddenly turned with an extremely grave look on her face. She had one final thing to share.<br />
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"Oh, but they are dead right about Kegels. Those things are SERIOUS!"Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-76111127918219717182014-05-11T04:26:00.001-07:002014-05-12T08:29:55.978-07:00Why I was so excited to bake muffins with DianaMother's Day is bittersweet for me again this year. I absolutely love being a mom, even when it's really challenging, but I hate that my own mother isn't here to see her namesake becoming this spunky, fun little human.<br />
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On Friday afternoon, Diana's school had a Mother's Day party. We ate snacks together, and the kids presented us with these sweet little collages that they made. Instead of heading back into work after the party, I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon with my little one as my own Mother's Day gift to myself. </div>
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We went for a walk, we colored in a couple of her favorite coloring books, we played tag, we ate pizza together, and then, we got to do this: </div>
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My husband snapped this photo with his phone from the other room. That's Diana and me making muffins together. It was our first attempt at baking together, and my heart is still full because of it. </div>
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It might seem like a little thing to most people - why get so excited about muffins?? But for me, it felt like I was carrying on a family tradition.</div>
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My mom was an incredible baker and cook. She was MacGuyver in the kitchen - she could whip up pretty much anything from nothing, and it was always really good. She loved the act of creating something that would bring people happiness and comfort, something that would sustain and nurture. We had a giant cookie jar in our kitchen, and it was always full with something yummy. When she died, many of the condolence cards mentioned her skills in the kitchen. </div>
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I loved to be in the kitchen with my mom. Who doesn't love to watch a master artist apply their craft?</div>
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One of my favorite memories of my mom was from a random day after middle school, when I came banging through the front door before my brother and sister got home, and she was singing along to Lionel Richie on the radio and setting out all the ingredients for us to make her trademark chocolate chip cookies. When she saw me come in, she didn't stop singing, she just grinned and motioned for me to join her. (I still get choked up with I hear "You Are"....)</div>
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Over the past 14 years since she died, when I've struggled with missing her or needed to feel connected, I have often resorted to stepping into the kitchen, pulling on an apron, and getting my hands busy making something from her baking repertoire. </div>
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On Friday, I was loving the time I got to spend with Diana, but found myself thinking about how much I wished my mom was still around to be a part of her life. Instead of wallowing in that or letting it ruin an otherwise really lovely afternoon, I decided to show Diana how her grandmother would have loved to be spending time with her. </div>
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So, I pulled out the ingredients to make muffins and all the bowls, spoons and muffin tins, I plopped Diana up on the counter, and held her hands as she put in the eggs, water and oil. I held the bowl as she sloppily stirred everything together. I found myself saying the same things to her that my mom used to say to me: "Make sure you get you get all the lumps out", "don't eat too much of that now or you'll feel sick", and "great job, sweetie, great job." </div>
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Diana loved it. As a matter of fact, she loved it so much that we made two batches! Then, when we were done, I wrapped them up, and we delivered them to our neighbors to say "Happy Mother's Day" to them because that's what my mother would have done. </div>
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Today, I am grateful for having had a mother that taught me about the love of baking and of caring for others with her example of a life of service and sharing, and for the fact that while she's not here anymore, her legacy can live on and on if I choose to share it with her granddaughter, Diana, and all of you.</div>
Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-77160794135403644162014-05-05T18:41:00.000-07:002014-05-05T18:41:26.553-07:00What I learned from my 20 month oldWhen I started thinking about becoming a mom, I was more focused on what I could teach Diana than on what she would teach me. Little did I know that she would be one of the greatest teachers I could have hoped to have.<br />
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Lately, she's taught me a great deal about patience by being absolutely uninterested in doing anything quickly or that doesn't suit her agenda. She's taught me to enjoy the little things by showing me her fascination with picking up rocks out of the backyard to see what's underneath. She's taught me the fun that can be had just by making noise.<br />
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However, the biggest lesson that she's imparted on me in the past few months is to take the time to celebrate each individual step in a process.<br />
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How?? <br />
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This kid LOVES to play with blocks. She likes to stack them up high and knock them down. She loves trying new designs and configurations. She even loves the act of dumping them out of their bag. But what she loves most is taking a moment to pause and celebrate each piece as it goes into place.<br />
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What an awesome way to go through life, and definitely a good lesson for this mom to learn.<br />
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I don't know about you, but I am usually so focused on the destination that I forget to celebrate the little achievements along the way. I tend to get so focused on what I think the end result should look like that I forget to get excited about watching the pieces come together. <br />
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Diana is not at all worried about what the final product will be. Instead, she's PUMPED about getting that one piece in place, and stops to cheer herself on before moving on to the next piece. What would it be like if we did that, as adults? <br />
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I don't know yet - but I am going to find out! Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-52101601080081055742014-04-22T20:27:00.000-07:002018-11-24T10:45:52.861-08:00How to become a runner in 4 easy stepsThis year, I have two running goals - complete my second half marathon with a personal record time (check!) and complete my first marathon. When I first started running about 8 years ago, that would have seemed like a ridiculous pair of goals. Heck, it STILL seems kind of ridiculous when I stop to really think about it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the 2014 Mercedes Half - with Diana staring at my medal!</td></tr>
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Part of my training program is to keep track of my runs - so, I've been doing that with an app called RunKeeper, which posts to social media when I log a run. Doing that keeps me motivated and accountable, and I need all the help I can get! <br />
I guess since I've been so obnoxious about posting my runs this year, I've started to get a lot of questions from friends about "how to become a runner". This always strikes me as funny, because truth be told, when I started 8 years ago, I couldn't run 100 yards without literally thinking I was going to P-A-S-S O-U-T!<br />
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True story - when I started training for my first 5k, I went to a reservoir in West Hartford that had a running trail around it about that distance. On day one, the person helping me get started suggested that I pick a landmark up ahead and just focus on running towards it, and then, once I got there, I could decide if I wanted to pick another landmark, and so on. Well, by the time my out-of-shape butt got to that first landmark, an oak tree, I was so out of breath that I felt like I had a hood coming up over the top of my head trying to black me out. I know this may be shocking to some, but I was kind of a drama queen about it, too. I would shout to him, as we approached the oak tree, "HOOD! HOOD!", and once we got to the tree, I would make a grand show of slowing down and walking the rest of the distance around the reservoir in my weakened and exhausted state. <br />
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Over time, as the weeks rolled on, I would get past that oak tree, and then, the next, and then, the next, until finally, I was slowly jogging the whole distance around the reservoir. I wasn't going quickly, but I was GOING! It wasn't pretty, it wasn't graceful, it wasn't athletic - it was just motion in the right direction for long enough to achieve the goal. All I wanted that first year was to be able to run a full 5k in memory of my mom - and I did! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race for the Cure 2008 (with my friend Barb on my back!)</td></tr>
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My point is this: if I can do it, YOU can do it. I wasn't an athlete in high school - as a matter of fact, I was so unathletic that the basketball coach (despite his high hopes for my Amazonian height) kindly guided me towards trying out for the theatre program after floundering around on the basketball court for a few weeks. So, if I can do it, YOU can do it. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUllMDGLyIQpLekJcFX9hc-C7PyAEyFy2NGx5VTxyF1yuq6h7TLai1LnOQAsbBNu5vxBl07RvhdNt-Rl604cdUtUlgapjieY2XVUYs8bUEWsXD7kC6t4iO0CgAbERhsSGE7w1szFVXFY/s1600/run+jingle+bell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUllMDGLyIQpLekJcFX9hc-C7PyAEyFy2NGx5VTxyF1yuq6h7TLai1LnOQAsbBNu5vxBl07RvhdNt-Rl604cdUtUlgapjieY2XVUYs8bUEWsXD7kC6t4iO0CgAbERhsSGE7w1szFVXFY/s1600/run+jingle+bell.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Steven with friends at the Jingle Bell Run in Birmingham</td></tr>
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<strong><u>Step 1: Pick a goal.</u></strong> Pick a real one, one that you can achieve, so that you don't get upset and quit before you even give yourself a chance to get started. If you have never run, a 5k is a great goal to start. Give yourself lots of time leading up to it to get trained. (Remember the curse of the HOOD!)<br />
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<strong><u>Step 2: Pick a plan.</u></strong> Just thinking that you'll go out and run a few days a week isn't tangible enough to feel like a plan. I really like Hal Higdon's website (<a href="http://www.halhigdon.com/">www.halhigdon.com</a>) for training plans of all kinds of races, for all kinds of fitness levels. They have some built in to apps like my RunKeeper app, too. Find one that works for the distance you want to go, and map it out. I literally have a calendar of all the runs I am going to do between now and my marathon in November. It took some time to plan it out, but now, I don't even have to think about it, I just get up each day and GO!<br />
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<strong><u>Step 3: Pick a buddy.</u></strong> One of the best things I can recommend is have a friend that can act as an accountability partner. For me, it's my friend Donna. We are both training for different races right now, but we check in with each other after we run. Heck, we don't even live in the same state anymore! For us, it's not about running right next to each other, it's about offering moral support and accountability. We offer encouragement to each other when we run...and when we don't, too. When one of us is too busy or doesn't feel well or is nursing an injury, we are honest about that too, and offer encouragement then, as well. One of the best feelings in the world is when I send my daily report and get hers back!<br />
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<strong><u>Step 4: Pick up your feet.</u></strong> GO! If you are like me, you can worry about getting all the right stuff (the shoes, the outfits, the temperature, etc.) in place before you start, and if you are like me, it'll all have to be perfect before you can take even one step. WRONG! Just go. GO! GOOOOOOO! Pick up your feet and run 100 yards. Done? That's 100 yards that you didn't run yesterday. How cool is that?? You can make progress each day, just by picking yourself up off the chair you are sitting in and heading out the door or onto the treadmill! <br />
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<strong><u>One last thing: be gentle with yourself.</u></strong> None of us are perfect. None of us run the perfect race, or follow the training plan perfectly. It just doesn't happen. Don't push too hard if you start to feel pain either! Don't be too hard on yourself if you hit a slump or feel sluggish, just do the best you can, and incrementally, day by day (or as in my case, year by year!), you'll get to where you want to be. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talladega Half with two of the coolest sisters I know: Kristen and B!</td></tr>
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If I can do it, ANYONE can do it. I would LOVE to hear from you, if you are trying to run. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to help encourage you along the way! The running community is an incredible group of people - I've met some amazing people and had fantastic experience. The feeling of accomplishment when you cross the finish line is second only to the sense of camraderie and community you feel with the folks that are running along beside you. Don't miss out on this awesome experience! <br />
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<br />Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-59323539236421524212014-04-06T15:09:00.000-07:002014-04-06T16:15:46.373-07:00Six months later...Have you ever meant to get to something, and let time slip and slip and slip by? So, six months later, here I am! I've been meaning to write, meaning to set aside the time, meaning to get organized and down to business...but then, well, life happened and I just never got around to capturing my thoughts here.<br>
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I am sitting here, with the rain coming down outside, in the kitchen of my new house with my daughter and husband asleep upstairs. Scratch that. She's asleep - he just sent me a video of her snoring while he holds her. How stinking cute is that?<br>
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Lots has changed in the last six months - the biggest thing is that our little family moved into a new house. It was quite the adventure with lots of drama along the way. We almost bought a house with termites. One of the owners threatened to sue us for not wanting to buy the house with termites. We had to find a new house in 48 hours because we sold our old house and the closing date was looming. Oh, and then, when we did find a house and determine a closing date for our old house, it was right smack dab on the middle of a two week mandatory training class that I had to take at work, so S ended up doing pretty much all of the coordinating and organizing. On Monday, March 24. I left to go to work from one house and came home to another! <div><br></div><div>We are going to spend quite a while getting this house to feel like our home, but we love it, so far. It has lots of room for Diana and for us, and for family and friends to come visit or stay (hint, hint...) It's closer to civilization, so now, heading into town for an event isn't such a daunting proposition. </div><div><br></div><div>The other big milestone for me was getting a PR (personal record) in the Mercedes Half Marathon in February. I had been wanting to get back into running and with my new schedule at my new job, I can run before my work day starts. After a few months of serious training, I ended up running next to a friend who kept me so distracted that I didn't even realize how quickly we were running until we crossed the finish line! I got a 2:07, which is a full 24 minutes faster than my only other half marathon. </div><div><br></div><div>What's up next? Vegas, baby! I am planning in doing my first full marathon there in November! Training has already begun, and if my knee holds out, I can cross that off my bucket list. </div><div><br></div><div>Well, I know this wasn't the deepest or most inspirational post, but basically, I just wanted to write SOMETHING to get back in the habit. More to come - hopefully soon.</div><div><br></div><div>Today, I am grateful for:</div><div>1. Rain on my window - it's the best soundtrack for a Sunday afternoon nap. </div><div>2. Getting to spend time with my in laws this weekend - they are truly some of the best people I know.</div><div>3. A husband that will go grocery shopping when I don't want to - what a champ!</div><div>4. A friend that I can text or call when I have something keeping me up at night to help get me out of my shame spiral and off the hamster wheel.</div><div>5. This: <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12Z-GjQEqBJvV8qh9nB9kLctmj5_9eFPo5bb0gZVMEtJ9Q7oBNW0dmZM9vo6S1CXLXT-sfHkNsWRBUFJ71NKFXR9TUbHMkgtxHfHMKJ0HhjgYOv9vgzIGbDIl3PdQDdGJtuHzqJzezr0/s640/blogger-image--252789189.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi12Z-GjQEqBJvV8qh9nB9kLctmj5_9eFPo5bb0gZVMEtJ9Q7oBNW0dmZM9vo6S1CXLXT-sfHkNsWRBUFJ71NKFXR9TUbHMkgtxHfHMKJ0HhjgYOv9vgzIGbDIl3PdQDdGJtuHzqJzezr0/s640/blogger-image--252789189.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Dear God, thank you for the many blessings in my life. I know that I am blessed beyond measure and only by Your grace. Please grant Diana some relief from her pink eye - I know You have lots of other stuff to worry about with world peace and all, but since You are God, I am hoping you can multitask. Please show me how to be of service to those in need and look for ways to give rather than take. Amen.</div>Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-57496827177992471782013-11-16T18:08:00.002-08:002013-11-16T18:08:38.667-08:0019 Random FactsThere's a fun game going around on Facebook, where I got assigned to share 19 random facts about myself. I figured I'd get back in the swing of blogging a little more frequently by sharing those here:<br />
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3,"tn":"K"}"><span class="userContent">1.
My favorite comfort food of all time was my mom's spaghetti with meat
sauce, and one of my greatest accomplishments has been learning to
replicate it.<br /> 2. I was president of my high school's Thespian
Society - mostly because no one else wanted to be. I joined the theatre
program at the suggestion of my basketball coach, when he realized that
despite my Amazonian height, I wasn't very coordinated.<br /> 3. I tried
to join the Army when I was 21, but couldn't because there was a
warrant out for my arrest! (It was due to unpaid parking tickets...lots
of them, apparently.)<br /> 4. I have an insatiable appetite for shows
like Law & Order, NCIS, Rizzolli and Isles - pretty much anything
that involves crime solving. I'll watch them when they come on, even if
I've seen them before. I am watching one now. <br /> 5. I've run one half marathon so far - at Talladega Motor Speedway. I plan to run 2 next year, and finally run a full!<br />
6. I love to travel and, so far, I've been to Greece, Egypt, Israel,
Cyprus, Turkey, Mexico, Canada, the Bahamas, St. Lucia, Turks and Caicos
and 30 different states in the US.<br /> 7. I HATE scary movies after
being made to watch "Nightmare on Elm Street" at a slumber party when I
was 13. I had to sleep with nightlight for weeks, and avoid scary
movies at all costs now.<br /> 8. I love to play matchmaker and have one marriage to my credit!<br />
9. In my entire adult life, I've yet to live in any one house or
apartment for more than 3 years, and it's not looking like I'll make it
to 3 in my current home, either!<br /> 10. When I met Lionel Richie for
the first time, the first thing I said was: "Oh my god, you are Lionel
F*(&^ng Richie!" To which he responded, "I get that a lot". He
recorded my voicemail for me on my cell phone, and I had it on there for
years.<br /> 11. I have a horrible memory. <br /> 12. I am a really fast
reader - but due to #11, I've actually read several books more than
once. Each time, I thought I was a little bit psychic because I could
kind of tell what would happen next. <br /> 13. When I was in high
school, my family went to Disney World, and my parents let my brother
and I go off on our own while they hung out with my much younger sister.
To get to the front of the lines, we "borrowed" a wheelchair. <br />
14. If I never had to wear shoes again, I would be a happy woman. I
love shoes - on other people. I take them off whenever I possibly can.<br /> 15. Despite working in radio for 19 years, I've still never gotten used to my voice on a recording.<br /> 16. I am a wannabe extreme couponer. I do regularly use coupons, and have saved $2000+ this year by doing so. <br />
17. I started going gray when I was 18. I died my hair until two
years ago. Now, I just pluck the ones that show the most. It's a
losing battle.<br /> 18. If I won the lottery, I would give most of it
away - anonymously - to people or causes I know. I think it would be
fantastic to change a lot of lives in such a positive way.<br /> 19. When I was younger, on a family trip to NYC, my sister <a data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1453943404&extragetparams=%7B%22directed_target_id%22%3A0%7D" href="https://www.facebook.com/jjp1106?directed_target_id=0">Jessica</a> sang and I sang as we walked down the streets, hoping to be discovered.</span></span></h5>
Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-30122243997721219962013-08-21T10:08:00.001-07:002013-08-21T10:08:31.635-07:00Hump Day GratitudeDespite wanting to be a gratitude guru, I have taken a serious leave of absence from practicing gratitude, and I can tell. When I get in the "everything sucks" or "everything is going to go wrong" mindset, it's time to pause, pray and put together my gratitude list. <div><br></div><div>This weekend, we will be celebrating my daughter's first birthday - did you read that? We - meaning my husband, family and close friends - how lucky am I to have any, and especially ALL of those? Celebrating - gathering in our home (glad to have that!!) and eating and spending time together (grateful so many people want to come!). My daughter - I am beyond blessed to get to be momma to this little one. I waited a long, long time to get to be a momma, and God knocked it out of the dang park with this cute, charismatic, sweet, loving and well behaved child. First birthday - we have made it through the year (knock on wood!) with no major mishaps and in good health. </div><div><br></div><div>There is a lot to be grateful for in that one sentence, alone!</div><div><br></div><div>I am on my lunch break at my new job, sitting out in the sunshine, and I am grateful for all of that, as well. I love my new job - I feel challenged and welcomed and enjoy the work very much. The sunshine is much welcome after lots of gray and gloomy days lately. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRklpwfxvgjavLwgAO-poCasAMMKRWJhIkpMkQZXpIBuRkYEePnS-j8OvYcXYy66WkZpgIKgWfnoM_aLjqqR2HM6AEeC33nuUIMzEtO9lZ0LQrj8t7_8rXsnnWSkHC8BYsM8Pk3iaBZg/s640/blogger-image-1453927413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoRklpwfxvgjavLwgAO-poCasAMMKRWJhIkpMkQZXpIBuRkYEePnS-j8OvYcXYy66WkZpgIKgWfnoM_aLjqqR2HM6AEeC33nuUIMzEtO9lZ0LQrj8t7_8rXsnnWSkHC8BYsM8Pk3iaBZg/s640/blogger-image-1453927413.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I would write more, but I need to get inside. Thanks for helping me to turn my attitude around. </div>Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0Hoover Hoover33.420755 -86.713962tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-66328899449021931192013-08-11T09:36:00.000-07:002013-08-11T09:36:19.922-07:00Our girl is on the moveA lot has happened since the last time I wrote - I started a new job (which I love!), we almost sold the house (which didn't pan out, thank goodness!), we took a vacation with my husband's family down to Pensacola Beach (baby's first time at the beach...MUCH more work than we realized it was going to be!), and now, our little 11 month old wiggle worm is officially a walker!<br />
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Check out this adorable video of some of her first tentative steps. She's getting more confident and daring each minute, so I am sure I will have more to post soon of her jogging around the house!<br />
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<br />Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-66927422618476906582013-07-01T05:18:00.000-07:002013-07-01T05:18:12.695-07:00I've Been Waiting Ten Months For ThisIt was a good weekend with the family. My handsome husband was in full on "get stuff done around the house" mode (which I highly encourage!), so I got to spend some quality time, one on one, with my little one. <br />
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We've been trying out new "big girl" food - and like her momma and daddy, she's a big fan of breakfast! <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Messy Breakfast Baby - June 2013</td></tr>
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We spent some time on one of Momma's favorite hobbies: couponing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couponing with Momma - June 2013</td></tr>
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S took a break from house stuff on Sunday morning, and we all got dressed up and went to church. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for church - June 2013</td></tr>
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The best part of the weekend, though, was her new favorite word! I have been waiting for 10 months to hear this sweet sound! <br />
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Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-89542118050950302112013-06-26T04:54:00.002-07:002013-06-26T04:55:19.578-07:00Big NewsI'll cut to the chase. My last day in radio is Friday, July 5th, and on Monday, July 8th, I'll start my new job doing corporate communications for a company based out of Birmingham (who shall remain nameless to protect the innocent!).<br />
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I've spent over half of my life on the radio - I started as a college freshman at the campus radio station and haven't looked back. However, as you know if you read this blog, my life has changed quite a bit in the past couple of years: moved to Alabama, met the love of my life, got married, and had a beautiful baby girl.<br />
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I am beyond grateful for the gifts that my career has given me - especially for those I just listed. If I hadn't taken this job in Birmingham, none of the above would have happened, and now, I can't imagine my life without my handsome husband and my beautiful daughter. <br />
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My radio career has taken me all over the country - Maryland, Pennsylvania, Colorado, Connecticut and Alabama - and has introduced me to some of the biggest characters and personalities one could ever imagine. I have always said that working in radio is "better than working for a living", because when you love what you do, it's not really "work". <br />
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However, the time has come to take the skills that I have acquired along the way and apply them in the next phase of my career. I am beyond excited for this new opportunity. When I say that it is better than I could have imagined, I am not exaggerating. (And I am not <i>just </i>excited about getting to sleep in a little later each day....) I really do think that God was looking out for me and guiding the entire long process for me to make this transition.<br />
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To those of you who have cheered me on while I was making this big decision, thank you. Change is not always the easiest, but your encouragement and counsel made it a lot easier. Thank you to all those I have worked with over the past almost 20 years, too - it's been a fantastic ride, and I'll be cheering all of you on from the other side of the radio.<br />
<br />Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-79959077809520201272013-05-31T06:53:00.002-07:002013-05-31T06:53:33.140-07:00We LOVE Home Depot!Thursday night, our tub's faucet broke - and I asked S to fix it (or to call a plumber, if it was too big of a project). It turns out that we needed a new part, and I decided it would be a good field trip for me and Diana. She loved it - great people watching and all sorts of new things to observe! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOer4HIxUhu4-Kgh7zOlYxgutsp19xNGxTojQ-usUv2a_brG5Bib5zTr_uCZzcPqAxvWF39t-ZBS5J864vvX-F0wTTkiYhKbXrhUT0QdXwjf8Ltc7UNQfcrVjYXrt96gEf_5GWQEmdTw/s1600/home+depot+trip+may+31.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOer4HIxUhu4-Kgh7zOlYxgutsp19xNGxTojQ-usUv2a_brG5Bib5zTr_uCZzcPqAxvWF39t-ZBS5J864vvX-F0wTTkiYhKbXrhUT0QdXwjf8Ltc7UNQfcrVjYXrt96gEf_5GWQEmdTw/s320/home+depot+trip+may+31.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diana - 9 months - At Home Depot</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I am psyched because this bodes well for our future trips out and about! Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-25262408238144476812013-05-22T14:39:00.000-07:002013-05-22T14:39:01.115-07:00Toilet Paper Love NoteI would assume that most women wouldn't be thrilled to find toilet paper on their bathroom sink. Normally, I wouldn't either. However, this morning, my husband used toilet paper to leave me an adorable love note, that I found when I got up at 4:30am to get ready for work. What a sweet surprise!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmPAw-uXLGSDwRlAF35k9N0hl42GhyphenhyphenwURQJIT5VR1f4CrDz75hv8Tl3rCuyKih6n29jVj0a0URrGY6E57LJOzYsLY7oLZj2n8FqTFY3gnwawta9IkPBYtz5Jubkwbhutp0TqE48b8rdk/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmPAw-uXLGSDwRlAF35k9N0hl42GhyphenhyphenwURQJIT5VR1f4CrDz75hv8Tl3rCuyKih6n29jVj0a0URrGY6E57LJOzYsLY7oLZj2n8FqTFY3gnwawta9IkPBYtz5Jubkwbhutp0TqE48b8rdk/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toilet paper as love note</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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It made my entire morning...my entire day, really...and it probably took him about 60 seconds, at most to write. A simple gesture, a small investment in time, using the resources immediately available at his disposal, and bam! Instant love letter! <br />
<br />
What a great lesson for me! <br />
<br />
Recently, I have also had three random friends reach out to send me emails to say something nice. All came on days when I was feeling kind of blah. I don't see these two individuals very often, and they had no way of knowing that I was in need of some extra TLC. Their emails weren't wordy or long; they were just a few quick sentences to say: that they were thinking of me, that they had a good memory that crossed their minds, that they loved seeing how my life as a new mother was developing, or that they noticed that I had done something I thought no one did. <br />
<br />
Bam! Instant mood booster!<br />
<br />
With our busy schedules, it's easy to let ourselves forget to follow through on the thoughts of "I should tell _____ that I was thinking about them today", or "I haven't seen _____ in a while, I wonder if she's okay", or "I thought of ______ today when I heard that song that reminded me of....." I know that I am guilty of it, more than I care to admit. I'll think of someone and then, let it pass. <br />
<br />
However, lately, I have been wondering if those sudden thoughts of random people might not be God's way of nudging me to reach out to that person. Maybe they are having a blah day or going through a rough patch, and that quick email/call/text/card/smoke signal might be just the thing they need to hear. Maybe not. The very worst thing that could happen would be that you have a positive interaction. I don't know about you, but I can always use more of those. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-79359598301768357332013-05-15T05:31:00.001-07:002013-05-15T05:31:32.120-07:00Giggly GirlHere's news that will surprise no one: It's kind of exhausting to keep a baby entertained for hours at a time. S was working last night - so, it was MY job to find ways to occupy Diana. As it turns out - she thinks I am kind of funny:<br />
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<br />
How could I be in a bad mood when I hear THAT? <br />
<br />
Today, I am grateful for:<br />
- Baby Giggles<br />
- Beautiful weather that lets us go for walks every day<br />
- Physical therapy that makes me capable of going for walks<br />
- Pay day (Woo hoo!)<br />
- Friends coming to dinner tonight<br />
<br />
Dear God, thank You for a happy, healthy baby - I know it's cliche, but I swear I don't take it for granted. I am also digging on this weather and having my knee on the mend - getting out and enjoying Your sunshine and handiwork. Also, thank You for giving my family the resources to make ends meet and prepare for our next step to buy a new home in the next year. Finally, I want to thank you for the support and encouragement from my friends - I remember a time where I didn't feel like I had any allies left in the whole world, and now, You've seen fit to surround me with love and kinship. Thank You for these many blessings - and all of the others I didn't list specifically. Please show me if I can be of service to You and Your kids today. Amen. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-91511352055538595782013-05-09T09:26:00.001-07:002013-05-09T09:26:55.334-07:00Being A Motherless Mother<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HTfIX_QOaqU_QwBvmozNnHTROJWjTxT0cvwvLDQ0ZX4S0fi3PVC74VZ02vMMcag1VKFgJ312Jb17jdpKzUzWv-O_PEgue3KVClC5MiMBqeSt3X8FmN-P8RXVVHsgIGiPIgz6Xpfse58/s1600/snuggling.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HTfIX_QOaqU_QwBvmozNnHTROJWjTxT0cvwvLDQ0ZX4S0fi3PVC74VZ02vMMcag1VKFgJ312Jb17jdpKzUzWv-O_PEgue3KVClC5MiMBqeSt3X8FmN-P8RXVVHsgIGiPIgz6Xpfse58/s320/snuggling.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snuggling with Diana - May 2013</td></tr>
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With Mother's Day coming up, I am thinking a LOT about my dear sweet mother. As I've said many times, she was the closest thing to an angel I'll ever know. Now that I am a mother, I have such a different understanding and appreciation for my mom - and it turns out that I am not the only one. In the past two days, I read two awesome posts about Mother's Day/motherhood that I want to share:<br />
<br />
In the first, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/maggie-lamond-simone/mothers-day-gift_b_3221913.html?ir=Women&utm_campaign=050813&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Alert-women&utm_content=Photo" target="_blank">Maggie Lamon Simone</a> talks about how she fought becoming her mother for years - and now, it's all she wants to be. I can completely relate to feeling like that. As a teen, and in my early 20's, I was often dismissive, mean, and full of contempt to a woman that never showed me anything but love, patience and faith. These days, I just hope to be half of the woman and mother she was.<br />
<br />
Maggie was, too: "<i>My mom is patient and loving and trusting, even toward some who
seemed undeserving, and as a result I thought her blind. She is devoted,
even to a husband who had demons enough for both of them, and I thought
her weak. She has an implicit faith and almost spiritual innocence
usually reserved for children, even when faced with unimaginable loss,
and I thought her naïve. </i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>And she has a commitment to her family and her life that,
unbelievably, I found limiting. She is secure and beautiful and strong,
and I misread it all.</i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>What I mistook for blindness was the most profound patience and
ability to forgive that I have ever witnessed. I thanked her by doing
every possible wrong thing, taking every possible wrong turn, learning
every possible lesson the hard way -- academically, romantically,
alcoholically -- almost daring her to turn away from me. She never did.</i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>
</i><i>What I mistook for naivete was, in fact, the kind of unquestioning
faith in God, in herself and in others that I now envy. I thanked her by
not believing in anything, not even myself.</i>"<br />
<br />
In the second, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/claire-bidwell-smith/on-being-a-motherless-mother_b_3201906.html?ir=Parents&utm_campaign=050813&utm_medium=email&utm_source=Alert-parents&utm_content=Title" target="_blank">Claire Bidwell Smith</a> talks about being a motherless mother. Now that she has children of her own, she feels reconnected to her own mother in ways she never anticipated - and that's my experience, as well. I can actually feel my mother coming through me as I start to navigate the waters of parenthood with Diana.<br />
<br />
Claire writes: "<i>And in this wildly unexpected way, I feel as though I have been given
my mother back. Time and time again, I hear her voice in mine, I feel
her hand in mine. She is there with me when I'm teaching Vera how to
bake cookies, or when I'm up in the middle of another sleepless night,
cradling my smallest. </i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>It's not even that I feel like she's been given back to me, but that
my mother has been given to me anew. I understand her in a way I never
did before. I see her in a way I never did. When I tuck my girls into
bed at night, when I smooth Vera's hair away from her forehead when she
has a fever, or scoop Juliette into my arms after a tumble, my heart
spilling over for them, I often find myself breathless with the
realization of just how much my mother loved me. </i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>They will never know her the way I did. They will never call her
grandma or experience any of her mischievous adventures. They will never
get care packages in the mail from her or cook with her in the kitchen
as I did. But they will know her in the way that I love them, in the way
that I see them and hear them and name them</i>." <br />
<br />
In small ways, every day, I am starting to like I know my mom more than I ever did, and it makes me sad and grateful at the same time. It's complicated to be a motherless mother. Honestly, I hate being part of this club, but it is comforting to know that I am not alone. Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3210113623954252105.post-69518019459818126572013-05-02T08:16:00.000-07:002013-05-02T08:16:09.170-07:00Grateful for Autocorrect FailsYesterday, I was with a group of friends, and one said it had been a while since she put pen to paper to do a gratitude list...and then, I remembered that *I* hadn't done one in a while. It is certainly long overdue! <br />
<br />
One of my favorite things about taking time to stop and do a gratitude list is this: the more I do it, the more things I find myself feeling grateful for. It's like a self-fulfilling prophecy; thinking about the positive things in my life, brings more of them. Even when events occur that may not seem like blessings, at first, if I am in the habit of practicing gratitude, I can usually find a silver lining in there, somewhere.<br />
<br />
So, here goes!<br />
<br />
Today, I am grateful for:<br />
- Reliable day care/care givers - S and I both have busy jobs, and I can honestly say that I would be lost without the wonderful people that care for our daughter, Diana. <br />
<br />- Friends that are willing to work at our friendship - everyone I know is busy, running in a million different directions. I am blessed that I have friends that are willing to use their precious few minutes in the car alone to try to connect, or are willing to make the drive out to my house to hang out with me, or are willing to plan a lunch date two weeks from now because we want to make sure it definitely happens.<br />
<br />
- Technology - it would be a mess trying to accomplish (or even remember!) every we do each day without technology like our smartphones, laptops, baby monitors, GPS's, etc. <br />
<br />
- Funny moments that break up the day - like when autocorrect ruins a romantic text I was trying to send my husband! It's good to have a good belly laugh in the middle of a work day. (I've especially loved the funny comments people have left on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jeannine.jersey/posts/10151476512113355?notif_t=like" target="_blank">Facebook status</a> about this happening) He had just told me about an older couple he had observed helping each other maneuver through airport security. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4e0tVmbuOUEPc1g6Sger2qVPGGVp3Y0dJGfYNE8QRhMm8NjrPPCuMStiJhU7IJ2ieyVqyYtIB_zu97tXDBZX1XR38VVzZo1o9pSaCvLFwU1EZq5PJIvdBQfYR455kk1EZmTKHm9vIhYQ/s1600/autocorrect.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4e0tVmbuOUEPc1g6Sger2qVPGGVp3Y0dJGfYNE8QRhMm8NjrPPCuMStiJhU7IJ2ieyVqyYtIB_zu97tXDBZX1XR38VVzZo1o9pSaCvLFwU1EZq5PJIvdBQfYR455kk1EZmTKHm9vIhYQ/s320/autocorrect.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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- A happy, healthy daughter - she is having so much fun these days, crawling and exploring. I just love spending time with her, and she cracks herself up. It is literally music to my ears to hear her giggle. I melt EVERY time. <br />
<br />
And now, my prayer for the day:<br />
Dear God, thank you for the reminder to take a minute to pause and practice gratitude. I know well the benefits of this exercise, and can't wait to start feeling them! Thank you for all of the many blessings You have given me, both those listed above and those known only in my heart. I know that I am a truly blessed woman. Help me today to look for ways to SHOW my gratitude, and if there's some way I can be of service to You and Your kids. Amen Jeannine Jersey Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12253909554174028332noreply@blogger.com0