The Boys of Summe

This boy is really loving baseball this year. It's super fun to watch.

...and sometimes we strike out. Good thing Daddy is there for us. xoxo

Good job buddy!

What Mimi is Teaching Me about Grit

According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, grit in the context of behavior is defined as “firmness of character; indomitable spirit.” 

_______________________________________________________

Mimi is teaching me so much right now.

Picture sitting on the couch watching "American Ninja Warrior." You feel so invested in this particular contestant running through the course. Whether it's because their back story of why they've trained so hard is incredible and noble or because they're the only woman competing or they seem like the underdog. For whatever the reason you are cheering them on from your couch like they can hear you.

They line up to start, ready to tackle each obstacle. They cross the first gauntlet...you cheer. The course gets increasingly harder. Then they just seem to take EVERY.HIT. A big foam obstruction whacks them in the face, the crowd collectively groans. Next they fall smack dab on their face with punishing force, the crowd (and you) groan some more. All you can do is hope for them, with all of your hope in your body that they make it through. You can reach out and help. You can't go back and help them train more. You're just there witnessing and watching. It's excruciating. And picture how even more excruciating it would be if you were that person's MOM. I'm sure the camera would pan to the mom in the audience. Maybe she's covering her eyes. Maybe she is tearfully looking hopefully with her hands clasped to her chest while her baby fights each obstacle.

THAT. Is exactly how I feel in life right now. The person running the course is Mimi, and I just have to sit on the sidelines, watching her take hit after hit. 

If I stood up. Shouted for the race to halt, the clock to stop and swooped in to grab her what damage I would do. I would steal her struggle from her, the very thing that would make her stronger. I may steal her victory...who's to say that even with all of the hits, she wouldn't win the race? I'd steal her sense of accomplishment when she looks back at the race she ran with pride and admiration for herself. 

But. Man oh man do I always want to swoop in and rescue her. 

***

Third grade hasn't necessarily been kind to our girl. Our smart, big-eyed, funny child seemed to have let the courage and confidence drain right out of her pocket as she crossed the door into her new classroom this past year. And unlike pencils and pocket folders and spiral notebooks, confidence isn't a school supply you can just purchase and add to their backpack before they leave. 

Actually I didn't even know she had lost it until we sat in parent teacher conferences with her amazing third grade teacher. "Mary-Ellen is shy and won't ever raise her hand or put herself out there. She's just not sure of herself." 

"Mary-Ellen is shy" rang through my head. She is? I questioned. I had never heard her described that way. Maybe it's because you see your kids when they are comfortable, secure. With you, with your family, with your closest friends. But the more I thought about it, yes. She DOES NOT want to stand out. She hates to be recognized. I wondered if this was something that was a phase and would become less as confidence increased or if shyness and being unsure was here to stay, like her beautiful brown eyes. 

****

Enter Third Grade friend trouble. Enter a dance class that she dreaded going to because she didn't have a friend. Enter summer softball where she is asked to pitch in front of a crowd of people and her peers (and where her parents silently cuss themselves out in their seats that they never practiced with her and have surely failed their child for life). Enter mean girls who feel small themselves and want to make someone else feel small; the girl who cries at the drop of a hat is the perfect easy target. When their words hit her, it's visible and therefore so much more satisfying. Enter a dance recital with a very stern dance secretary/drill sergeant and a miss communication and a terrified and panicked, tear-stained dancer who feels like she's alone cause she can't find her mom. It has been a battle of a year (and summer).

And how do I respond? I want to jump in. I want to leap from my seat in the stands at the softball game and call it off. I want to rip the pitchers mask from my baby' girls' face, explain to the crowd that we haven't practiced, "we'll be back when she's totally ready and a pitching all-star, so this isn't uncomfortable for her (and us)." 

I want to confront the Third Grade meanies and show them what it REALLY feels like to be bullied (I'm older and can dress you down with my words like nobody else). I want to call the dance company and report the surly secretary for taking what was supposed to be a celebration for our family of a year of hard work and turning it into a tear-filled nightmare.

But we can't do that. (At least that's what my friends say). They gently and lovingly redirect my anger and remind me that this all is GOOD for Mimi. That each trial makes her stronger; increases her grit. Just like the training that an athlete goes through, it's the resistance (and repetitiveness) that builds their muscle and ability to compete. 

And, on this last particularly hard softball day, where I tossed a ball onto Mimi's head, causing a bloody nose before the game started, THEN she was called on to pitch. THEN hit in the head with a pitch from the other team, God lovingly whispered to me (because I was His scared child going through a hard time) "I mean so much more for her. I have BIG plans for her. I care about her so much that I'm teaching her to be tough for her life ahead." And suddenly my panicked soul was quieted. I saw PURPOSE in the trials. I saw that God uses all suffering for His grand plan and ultimately for His glory. So I'm trying to see hard times in Mimi's life through that exact filter. (And how crazy that our loving Father in Heaven is carving out my soul and refining me as he refines Mimi).

***

I came across this article written by Margaret M. Perlis in Forbes Magazine today. I love the word courage so much and I love this even more because it's a quote by Teddy Roosevelt (even if when I think of him I see Robin Williams...thanks Night at the Museum).

While courage is hard to measure, it is directly proportional to your level of grit. More specifically, your ability to manage fear of failure is imperative and a predicator of success. The supremely gritty are not afraid to tank, but rather embrace it as part of a process. They understand that there are valuable lessons in defeat and that the vulnerability of perseverance is requisite for high achievement. Teddy Roosevelt, a Grand Sire of Grit, spoke about the importance of overcoming fear and managing vulnerability in an address he made at the Sorbonne in 1907. He stated:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strived valiantly; who errs, who comes again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

 So here's to letting my kid stay in the arena. And to being a model of getting into the arena myself. This all hits so close to home in relation to the business I am starting and am growing. Who knew when I started selling lipstick that I'd actually be signing up for a lifetime course on grit, courage and personal development. Every time I approach someone to try my product or ask someone to join my team I'm risking falling on my face with blood, sweat and tears. Sometimes I think it's not the easiest thing I've ever done, I'm so exposed. There's no company to hide behind, no boss to ultimately take the fall. It's just me. And my raw passion for all to see. But I keep going forward. I see the goal in sight and I really don't and won't quit until I get there. Because right now, THIS is my worthy cause for my family and the opportunity it holds for so many other families. And because it's not really about lipstick. It's about seeing something and going for it, even when it's hard. It's about "daring greatly" and it's about grit and courage. So because of this, I'm thankful for my daughter turned teacher in my life and I will hold on to God's words to me that there's more for both of us ahead. 

xoxo, m