Did you know? REJECTED TWICE!

rejected

Yea, Baby!  I find great pride in these two rejections.  Do you know why?  It means that I am actually DOING SOMETHING about what I really want to do!

Now, mind you…I have about 8 more that I am still waiting for.  Rejections, that is.  And that is okay.  Part of growing is learning.  Part of learning is being rejected.  Part of being rejected means that you have PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE to be targeted.

Oh, yeah, Baby!  I’m a walking target with a bullseye on my back.

If my back is my story.  And my story is my back.

I have actually submitted a children’s book.  And I have also submitted a portion of the chapter book I am working on for young readers.  Two different parts of me that I am personally proud of—I have sent in to other people to dissect and have the option of rejecting.

Two have wholeheartedly agreed that my book is definitely not for them.

You would think that would make me sad.  In fact, it puzzles my oldest daughter, Adelyne (age decade plus 1).

I told her excitedly one day after she arrived home from school, “Ada!  Mommy’s book was rejected!”

Scrunching her face up into what can only be described as utter confusion, she proclaimed, “You were rejected!  How can you be so happy????”

Sometimes kids just don’t get it, right?!

I replied, “I may have been rejected—BUT THAT MEANS I DID SOMETHING TO REJECT!”

Walking away muttering to herself (probably something like CRAZY WOMAN!), I giggled after her.

You see.  Rejection is not failure, it’s strength.

You did something brave.  You put yourself out there.  And you got results.

Perhaps they were not the results you desired.  But there were results.

Next time may resemble the previous time.  But there will be a day when the No will become a Yes.

Because you did not waver in strength!

So, go!  Be brave.  Be strong.  Be crazy.  And don’t be afraid of a little rejection.

After all, it’s not the 9,999 times you fail.  It’s the 1 time you succeed that matters.

Just look at Thomas Edison and his lightbulb!

***

Here’s a great article from Forbes titled “How Failure Taught Edison to Repeatedly Innovate”

How to live with the toddler tornado season of your life.

tornadoes1and2

Yesterday started and ended in a tornado.  If we had a storm cellar, I may have hidden down there.  I don’t have twins, but I have toddler-like twin tornadoes that swirl through my home daily—and I just can’t keep up.

In a few short months, I will be 40.  Did you read that correctly?  FORTY!

That’s like the beginning of Phase 2 of life.  And I feel great and look so forward to it.

But there is this thing.  Having a baby at 30 versus 40 is a new ballgame.  It’s like the NBA Stars in their prime versus the Dancing Grannies that move and kick at all rhythms, even though they are suppose to be kicking together.

I am kicking at my own rhythm and the toddlers are not kicking with the nearly 40-year-old me.

And when I feel worn down, I look the tornadoes in their faces and realize that, although I am in the eye of their storm, too quickly this storm will pass—and I will miss the mess!

I feel as if I failed miserably raising my first daughter who is now 9 (my toddler-like-twin tornadoes are respectively 1 & 1/2 and 3).  I feel like I pushed her too hard, disciplined her too much, and expected her to grow too quickly.

Perhaps I feel as if I had to prove to the world that I was a fantastic 1st time mom?  Perhaps I had to feel as if I had the world’s greatest daughter?  Perhaps I just had too many expectations for myself in my mind—even though everyone around me told me to Stop.  Enjoy.  Love.  Care.  Laugh.  Don’t stress.  And Just be.

But I didn’t heed any of their advice.  Before I knew it, my daughter was no longer the tornado toddler, and I miss every naked moment when she was running around in nothing but pink cowboy boots or singing and skating in flour skating rinks on the kitchen floor.

I miss the days when she invited the dogs to sit at the table to eat with us.

And I miss the days when she told me I was greater than Santa and any present he may bring.

Therefore, although I am nearly 10 years past the birth of my oldest — and far more feeling 40 than 30 — technically “nearly” the middle-aged mom of toddlers — I am TRYING … OH TRYING SO HARD — to get it right this time.

If you feel as if your life is a toddler tornado zone—remember me.  And remember how I already miss the toddler tornado moments because I have already seen one child exit the zone and have come out on the other side.  Oh how I wish that I could relive every moment with her in that tornado again.

I would actually throw open that cellar door and run out into the storm with her and say, “OH!  Look!  It’s snowing inside again, is it?!”  And simply vacuum up the baby powder that dusted her doll house and carpet later.

Because, after all, how much longer will she truly believe that it snows inside?

But my other 2, my toddlers, are still there—living every moment of that beautiful snowball of imagination.  Yesterday reminded me how glorious their brilliant imaginations are—and I intend, in my aging and wiser years, to soak it up this time.

And not rush it out.

I hope you throw open the storm cellar and run into the tornado with your toddlers.  May snow grace their bedrooms and monsters be slayed in the halls.

May little Batman briefs and diapers with tutus grace your living rooms…

And may crumbs tumble onto your floors.

Because the toddler storm will end and your house will seem far too clean and quiet—and you will wonder where time went.

Seize the day, my toddler mom friends.  Which means—you will hardly get to eat, sit, shower, or breathe—but seize the day in toddler imaginations, mess, and a good ol’ squeeze them tight and watch them squeal sort of day.

Enjoy your storms.

I do!

***

Here is my Facebook post from yesterday where I was inspired to enjoy the tornado versus get myself upset over the newfound work before me:

i walk up the stairs during maxwell and josephine’s nap time —this is what i find:

max in the hallway in his batman pajamas, hello kitty pink ballerina shoes, and gold princess gloves—wielding a pop-gun “sword” shouting, “I am fighting the monsters, mom!”

to which i think—is josephine sleeping? 

so i walk into their room — where i find:

josephine trapped in her bed, standing up, , wearing a ballerina skirt and superman baseball hat shouting “UP! UP!”

i don’t stop there—i look around the room === this is what i see:

fish and turtle food everywhere.

every clean sheet that was once (only a mere hour earlier) tucked away waiting for the future use—strewn about the floor covered in fish food and turtle food.

but at least max is keeping our house free of monsters, right?  wink emoticon

hope your day is made up of the most beautiful of memories. i know mine is! 

AND THEN THIS HAPPENED:

and the night ended with baby powder all over the floor—because, you know, it snowed 😉 haha!  #whenthemessendsiwillmissit